A Spacetime That Might Exist (2)

Methode held a longsword found beside the knight's body and slowly brandished it in the air.

The sword tip sliced through the air, leaving an invisible trail. She frowned slightly, staring at the blade, sketching out possible images in her mind.

"First, a horizontal slash... then an uppercut... no, that's not right."

She flipped her wrist, changing her sword technique.

"That's how it connects? But the force stops there."

She stopped what she was doing, looked at the simple longsword in her hand, and gently shook her head.

"It's still not right. The movements are too awkward, like they were forcibly pieced together, not like a sword routine performed by one person."

She looked up at the group of people sitting around the table.

"Could it be... that the enemy is using a dual-wielding sword?"

Frieren was leaning over the map spread out on the table, pointing to several marked locations. She didn't even look up when she heard Methode's words.

"Demons can generally only Concealment magic for short periods. That means they are currently outside our perception range."

Fern sat beside her, his pale purple eyes calmly scanning the map.

"Yes. The area around the village is safe for the time being."

Frieren straightened up and rubbed her neck.

"Genau has marked all the places where the Demons might be hiding. Let's investigate them one by one according to these clues."

A faint smile appeared on her face the instant she finished speaking.

"However, let's eat dinner first. We can't fight on an empty stomach."

She took an oil paper package from her cloth bag, placed it on the table, and untied the string.

Inside were several dark brown, rough-textured, and hard-looking loaves of bread. They rolled onto the plate with a dull, solid clatter, like a few small stones.

Frieren picked one up and tapped the surface with her fingers, making a soft "knock-knock" sound.

"Be patient until the trade network is fully restored."

As she spoke, she lowered her head and took a bite.

"Crunch."

The crisp sound, like cracking a nut shell, was exceptionally clear in the quiet room.

Fern picked one up and took a small bite. Her cheeks bulged slightly as she chewed, her expression remained unchanged, but she swallowed noticeably slower than usual.

Methode put down her sword and picked up a loaf of bread. She looked at it and suddenly remembered something.

"I'll take Mr. Genau's bread to him."

"No." Frieren took another bite of bread, chewing as she spoke, her voice slightly muffled, "You're better at analyzing intelligence, keep analyzing. I want to know the enemy's specific information as soon as possible."

She looked at Stark beside her.

"Stark, go deliver it."

Stark said "Oh," picked up the plate with the bread he had left for Genau on it, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

He walked for a while and found the Genau on the side of the church.

The man stood with his back to him in front of a relatively intact stone house. He raised his hand, palm facing the doors and windows, and whispered a short incantation. A layer of pale golden light appeared on the door frames and window sills, then disappeared into the texture of the wood and stone.

Stark walked over, his footsteps clearly echoing on the stone pavement.

Genau didn't turn around; his hands continued moving.

"Wow, time to go?"

"No." Stark handed over the plate. "I brought you dinner."

Genau then turned around. He took the plate, picked up the dark brown hard bread on it, and without even looking at it, took a big bite.

"Crunch."

He paused for a moment while chewing.

Then continue chewing and swallowing.

"... So hard."

Stark nodded.

"... That's right."

A silence fell. Only the distant wind seemed to howl through the ruins.

Stark watched as Genau turned back to reinforce the house's barrier. After a while, he asked.

"What are you doing?"

Genau didn't answer immediately. He finished the last bit of the barrier, pressed his palm against the door to make sure it was stable, and then withdrew his hand.

"The monster's previous attack damaged the church's protective barrier. I've set up a stronger one."

He pointed to the stone house in front of him.

"The bodies of the villagers and knights are inside."

Stark blinked.

Why wasn't it buried?

He glanced at Genau's expression and added another sentence.

"If you don't have enough stamina, I can help. I'm quite strong."

Genau turned his head and glanced at him. His gaze was calm, devoid of emotion.

"... I see."

He spoke, his voice flat.

"You're not from the Northern Plateau. You wouldn't have any idea about this."

He turned toward the village, his gaze sweeping over the charred ruins.

"Here, most villages don't have cemeteries. True cemeteries can only be found in the corners of fortified cities—places protected by strong walls and barriers, where noble lords are laid to rest."

"Some of the corpses will be transported to the public cemetery south of the Northern Plateau. There are far fewer monsters there than here. But even so, the Norm Knights will need to send special escorts to transport the remains."

He turned his face back to look at Stark.

Why do you think that is?

Stark didn't say anything.

Genau didn't need his answer. He continued speaking to himself, his tone casual.

"Monsters are attracted by the stench of rotting corpses. If you bury them, they'll be dug up in a few days. The scene will be worse than hell, with not a single intact bone left."

"The guys from the Norm Trading Company have long advocated for direct cremation of corpses. This idea is reasonable; it's the mindset a businessman should have, and I wholeheartedly support it."

He changed the subject, his voice lowering.

"But the clergy are strongly opposed. I know why... after all, I feel the same way."

He stared at the stone house he had placed a protective barrier on for a few seconds.

"He suffered terribly in life, and now he's to be burned to ashes after death. It's just too much."

He withdrew his gaze and looked at Stark. There was no ripple in his dark eyes, but Stark felt there was something very heavy inside them.

"But one day, we'll have to accept this fact. Because if things continue like this..."

He paused, and spoke the last few words very softly, yet they were like stones hitting water.

No one can rest in peace in their own hometown.

The wind picked up, bringing with it the chill of the night.

Stark crossed his arms and remained silent.

Genau had finished the hard bread. He handed the plate back to Stark.

"Let's go back. We need to get ready to leave."

Inside the room.

Frieren sat cross-legged on the floor, holding half a piece of hard bread in her hands. She took small bites, her cheeks puffing out with each bite. Her emerald eyes were lowered, staring at the floor, and the corners of her mouth turned down, revealing an expression that was a mixture of grievance and "I can't live like this anymore."

It looks kind of cute, provided you ignore the "crunch crunch" sound that definitely shouldn't be heard when eating bread.

Fern sat opposite her, a few crumbs of bread on her face, sipping water from her water pouch. Hearing the voice, she looked up at her master, her pale purple eyes revealing a complex expression.

No matter how many times I hear it...

She said softly.

"I can't believe that's the sound of eating bread."

Methode seemed to be adapting well. She ate in small bites, a smile on her face.

"I can't believe I'll be able to see everyone again so soon. It's almost unbelievable."

Frieren swallowed the hard piece of bread in her mouth, picked up her water glass and took a big gulp before exhaling.

"Me too... I was sleeping soundly in the woods when a bird came to deliver a message."

Fern put down the water pouch and nodded.

"After all, I am First-Class Mage. I need to handle certain designated requests for the Continental Magic Association."

Frieren turned to Methode and tilted her head.

"By the way, why is Methode here? I don't think it's likely that two First-Class Mages would happen to be passing by in a place like this."

Methode picked up the water glass with an elegant posture.

"I received a direct order from Lady Serie to come here with Mr. Genau to carry out the mission of exterminating the Demons."

Frieren clicked her tongue, her shoulders slumping slightly.

"What a hassle... Luckily, I'm not First-Class Mage."

Methode smiled.

"While it's called the job of First-Class Mage, it's more like the job of a 'disciple.' Generally speaking, passing the Level 1 exam means becoming Lady Serie's disciple."

Upon hearing this, Fern's lips curved slightly into a smile.

"I did refuse."

Frieren immediately turned her head, a big smile spreading across her face, and reached out to ruffle Fern's hair.

"Fern is such a good child."

Then, when she turned her face back to look at Methode, her smile vanished instantly, and her brows furrowed.

"So, because you're a disciple, you have no choice but to listen to Serie... It's not easy for you. That Serie..."

But Methode didn't think that way.

She put down the cup and gently cupped her cheeks in her hands. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and the curve of her lips deepened, a smile suddenly tinged with an unusually bright, even dreamlike, quality.

No, that's not the case.

Her voice softened, and her tone became gentler.

"Or rather... I originally wanted to help Serie."

She paused, as if recalling a beautiful scene, her fingertips unconsciously stroking her cheek.

"She's petite and delicate... so incredibly cute... um..."

Frieren's expression froze instantly. Her emerald eyes widened slightly as she looked at the mature woman before her, who exuded an eerie aura of "compassion." She leaned back slightly, mechanically chewing her bread, her face clearly displaying fear and a desire to stay away from her.

"... I see."

She forced out a few syllables from her throat.

Methode seemed to snap out of her daze. She lowered her hand, resumed her usual gentle and composed smile, and looked at Frieren's face, her tone sincere.

"Of course, Miss Frieren is in no way inferior to Lady Serie."

Frieren: "..."

She silently turned her face away, picked up her water glass, and took a sip.

"Thank you."

Her tone was dry and dismissive.

Methode smiled and didn't continue the topic. She picked up the sword, her fingertips tracing a few fine marks on the blade that weren't rust, and her gaze became focused again.

The room fell silent.

Frieren finished the last bit of bread and dusted off the crumbs. Fern began packing her small bag. Methode, meanwhile, closed her eyes and lightly traced her fingers in the air, mimicking certain techniques.

After a while, Methode suddenly opened her eyes.

She seemed to remember something, her gaze unfocused as she stared into the air ahead.