Their Separate Journeys Home

A few days later.

A lakeside restaurant in the port area of Oysast.

The second-floor window seats offer a great view, overlooking cargo ships on the lake and the towering spires of the Magic Association in the distance.

Several exquisite lake delicacies and local dishes were laid out on the table.

Ehre, Wirbel, Scharf, and Stoltz sat together.

Ehre gently poked at the snow-white fish in her plate with her fork, introducing the neatly dressed, meticulously combed white-haired old man sitting next to her to the other three.

"This is my grandfather, Lairen. He is First-Class Mage."

Lairen sat there, back straight, nodding slightly to the crowd, her expression as calm and unwavering as ever.

His gaze swept over Ehre and her friends, and he nodded almost imperceptibly, seemingly approving of his granddaughter's social circle. He then resumed his silent, dignified posture, like a solemn statue.

Lunch took place in a relaxed but not awkward atmosphere. Occasionally, there was the clinking of cutlery and the faint sound of harbor noise coming from outside the window.

Almost at the same time.

On a carriage heading towards the Royal Capital.

Lanto sat alone in the carriage, looking out at the fields and forests.

He pushed up his glasses, the flowing scenery reflected in the lenses, his face expressionless.

Hometown, almost there.

Another commercial route leading to the Continental United Academy.

A large carriage was moving at a leisurely pace.

Inside the car, Länge had a magic book open on her lap and was reading quietly.

She was not selected, but there was no sign of disappointment on her face. Her expression was calm, as if she had just finished an ordinary trip.

Methode sat gracefully on the soft cushions, sipping a cup of warm herbal tea. Her mature and sophisticated aura remained undiminished even on the bumpy carriage ride.

"You're watching very intently, Länge."

Länge looked up from the book, smiled at her, a gentle smile.

"Hmm. There are some parts I didn't quite understand before, I'll think about them again on the way."

"Although I didn't become First-Class Mage, I... beat First-Class Mage to a card game!"

At the other end of the carriage, Ton leaned against the window, arms crossed, gazing at the receding scenery outside, his expression somewhat sullen.

He and Methode and the others were going the same way, so they hitched a ride together.

He was clearly not easily accepting of the result of not being selected, but he didn't show any strong emotions outwardly, remaining silent.

Another well-regarded tavern in the city of Oysast.

Duncan, Laufen, and Lichta sat around a square table.

On the table were roast meat, stew, and a large basket of bread. Duncan was using a fork to place several perfectly roasted slices of ibex into Laufen's plate.

Laufen sighed and poked at the small mountain of meat that had suddenly piled up on his plate with his fork.

"Grandpa, I really can't eat that much..."

Duncan remained unmoved and placed another spoonful of vegetables on her plate. "And this too, eat more vegetables."

Lichta sat opposite Duncan, arms crossed, watching the scene with droopy eyes, her lips twitching.

"Hey old man," he said, his tone laced with his usual teasing, his mood somewhat improved since becoming First-Class Mage, "You're really not her biological grandfather? This is taking such incredibly good care of her."

Duncan glanced at him, but didn't respond to the conversation. He simply poured himself a glass of ale.

Laufen could only try to finish the food on his plate.

The next table.

Edel ate a honey-drizzled pancake in small bites, a rare, clear, and relaxed smile on her face beneath her pink mushroom-shaped haircut.

"That's really good," she said, swallowing a bite of muffin, her voice filled with satisfaction, "I actually passed."

Upon hearing this, Bly and Dunster, who were sitting next to her, both raised their glasses.

"Congratulations, Edel," Bly said with a smile.

"First-Class Mage now." Dunster nodded.

Edel picked up her glass of juice, clinked it with theirs, and her relaxed smile deepened.

"Hey-hey."

A fork in the road leading to the Northern Plateau.

The wind was much fiercer than in Oysast, carrying the scent of grass clippings and dust.

Elder yawned widely, rubbed his eyes, and his dark gray face was full of drowsiness. He glanced at his neatly dressed companion beside him, whose blond hair remained perfectly styled in the wind.

"On the way?" he asked vaguely.

Adonis nodded, his posture impeccable.

"It's on my way. I'm going deep into the plateau to look for clues about 'Emperor's Wine'."

Elder's eyes lit up, and he patted Adonis on the shoulder.

"That's perfect! You go first if anything happens! I'll follow up, and in a pinch... um, I'll be there to cheer you on."

Adonis glanced at him, his perfect face expressionless, and simply nodded again.

"No problem."

Without another word, the two set off one after the other on the road to the bitterly cold north. One walked with a sluggish gait, as if he could fall asleep at any moment; the other moved with an elegant stride, as if attending a court ball.

Evening, in a private room on a bustling food street in the city of Oysast.

The round table was laden with delicious dishes, their aroma filling the air.

Kanne, Rabiñe, Ubel, Frieren, Fern, and Lowell sat in a circle.

Lowell glanced at the table, which was filled with women except for himself, and scratched the back of his head.

"... Ruby has disappeared, Himmel and the others have also vanished without a trace. So..."

He glanced around, his expression somewhat subtle.

"Everyone at the table, except me, is a girl?"

He looked at Ubel with a hint of mockery.

"Ubel, are you sure you can handle this? Why don't you call Lanto along too?"

Ubel was twirling noodles in his plate with his fork when he heard this. He looked up, his green eyes showing that usual faint smile.

"I'd like to," she said lightly.

"But the Glasses Guy is still a bit of a loner. He disappeared as soon as the exam was over, probably back in his quiet hometown, enjoying afternoon tea alone."

Fern took small bites of the crispy-on-the-outside, tender-on-the-inside soufflé drizzled with berry sauce in front of him, his eyes slightly narrowed in satisfaction.

"Mmm..." she said softly, "I've been eating very well these past few days."

Frieren was engrossed in a hearty bowl of seafood chowder when she heard this, and replied without even looking up.

"Eat quickly. You might not be able to eat this delicious food again for a while."

Fern stopped eating and looked at her, his pale purple eyes filled with doubt.

"Huh? Why?"

Rabiñe, standing nearby, crossed his arms, snorted, and took over the conversation.

"Fern, you've never been to the Northern Plateau, have you? The climate there is cold. It's alright within the Nasser Empire, but further north, deep into the heart of the plateau, transportation becomes very inconvenient. Sometimes you have to travel for many days before you encounter a small town, and cities are even rarer."

"On the road, we often had to rely on hard bread, dried meat, and cheese to fill our stomachs. If we were lucky, we could find clean snow water; if we weren't..."

Kanne chimed in softly, looking a little timid, "Bread really does get hard if it's left out for too long..."

Frieren seemed to have been reminded of some unpleasant memory, and stopped drinking her soup. She narrowed her emerald eyes slightly, wrinkled her nose, and turned down at the corners of her mouth, revealing an expression that was a mixture of disdain and a little bit of grievance.

"When he ate the bread, the sound was actually 'crunch crunch'..."

She turned her head to look at Fern, her tone carrying a childlike discontent that sought validation.

"Fern, can you imagine?"

Fern: "..."

She imagined the scene and sound, blinked her pale purple eyes, and remained silent.

Ubel finished the last bite of noodles, put down his fork, picked up a napkin and elegantly wiped his mouth. His green eyes glanced at Frieren, his tone slightly amused.

"Huh? What are you guys talking about?"

She pointed at Lowell.

"Lowell's space can store any amount of food, right? Preserving it in the same condition it was when it was placed there. Why worry about that?"

Upon hearing this, Fern looked at Lowell, then at Frieren.

"Ah, yes."

Her tone carried a belated realization, along with a hint of helplessness at how she and her master had actually forgotten this.

"Lord Frieren?"

Frieren's hand, holding the spoon, froze in mid-air.

She blinked, a fleeting look of confusion crossing her emerald eyes before being quickly replaced by a gleam of "Oh yeah, there's that trick too." Her slight resentment and dissatisfaction vanished instantly.

"Ah," she uttered a short syllable, her tone returning to its usual flatness, "I forgot."

She paused, as if trying to find an excuse for her forgetfulness, and naturally looked at Lowell.

"Speaking of which, why didn't you use any storage space to store a lot of food when you went there before?"

Lowell was gnawing on a roasted rib when he heard this. He put down the bone, wiped his hands with the damp towel next to him, and looked a little helpless.

"Where did we get the money before? I had saved some, but we ran out of food before we even reached the worst areas."

He counted on his fingers.

"We didn't travel all the way to the territory of that incredibly arrogant Earl Tahe before we managed to 'get' our first pot of gold. Before that, we just went wherever we could, buying food whenever we had a little money; we never had any surplus to stockpile."

Frieren thought about it carefully, then nodded firmly, her chin slightly raised, with a hint of "I see."

"That's right."

She picked up the spoon again, scooped up a spoonful of thick soup, and contentedly put it into her mouth, squinting her eyes.