Resolved

The group walked upstream along the steep cliff edge. The loose rocks under their feet kept slipping and falling into the roaring wind and rapids below, disappearing instantly.

Fern walked in the middle of the group and spoke softly.

Why did Gaan spend two hundred years building this bridge?

Lowell, walking beside Fern, spoke first. He had his hands in his pockets and walked leisurely, as if he were just taking a stroll.

"Oh, because I'm not reconciled."

"Unwilling to accept it?"

"Um."

Frieren was walking ahead, also spoke, her silver hair blowing backward in the wind. Her tone was flat, as if she were talking about something from a long time ago, something that had nothing to do with her.

"Gaan's village was attacked by Demons two hundred years ago. Only a few people survived. At that time, the Kingdom's Knights' reinforcements were actually on the other side of the canyon, but they couldn't cross it. He could only watch, unable to do anything."

Lowell added, his voice devoid of emotion.

"If there had been a bridge at the time, there's a good chance some people could have been saved. But when we met him, he had only built half of the bridge, ran out of money, and it was going to be abandoned. He thought he would never be able to finish it."

"It just so happened that at that time, I... well, 'raised' some funds from Earl Tahe. I gave it to him without hesitation. After all, building a bridge is a good thing."

He suddenly cleared his throat, straightened his back, and began to shake his head, his tone becoming increasingly refined and scholarly, completely out of place in this desolate wilderness.

"Building bridges is a major undertaking for the people's livelihood. I believe that bridges connect thoroughfares and facilitate the smooth flow of goods, which is certainly a matter of great importance to the people's well-being."

He glanced to the side; Frieren was studying the pebbles on the roadside, Fern was watching him calmly, Methode had a gentle smile on her lips, and Liletta was staring straight ahead, unresponsive.

Lowell clicked his tongue, raised his voice a little higher, and spoke with a hint of theatricality that no one was listening.

"However, many people say that I am 'just spouting some sour talk about developing people's livelihoods and benefiting future generations.' Alas! These are not sour talk, but rather the way of the economy and the key to people's livelihoods, which cannot be ignored!"

He put his hands behind his back, Imitation someone's pacing posture, but unfortunately the mountain path was too narrow, and he only managed to sway twice.

"The other day I was reading the * Artificers' Record), which says, 'Craftsmen build the state.' Building bridges today is also the way of craftsmen, but this way is not the same as that way; it is the way of development. For example..."

"Alright, alright." Frieren looked up, interrupting his increasingly high-pitched rambling, her emerald eyes blinking. "I know. Because of this, I've had to cut back on so many desserts. All the money went to 'The Path to Development'."

Lowell immediately moved closer, his sour and sullen expression vanishing, replaced by a bright smile.

"Hehe, my Frieren is the best! She's willing to use her own money to support great causes that benefit the country and its people; that's truly a great act of kindness..."

I still miss my Mercury Pudding.

"Okay! I'll definitely make you a super-sized one later, so big you can sleep on it and it'll be super bouncy, so you can eat while you sleep, eat when you wake up, and sleep after eating, okay?"

Frieren's eyes then curved into a smile.

"Okay. It's a deal."

She thought for a moment, then added.

"However, the pancakes I make tomorrow morning have to be really delicious."

"Okay! No problem! I'll show you Chef Lowell's pancake-making skills!" Lowell patted his chest.

Frieren turned her head and looked at Fern behind her.

"No, I was talking to Fern."

Fern nodded slightly.

"Yes, Lady Frieren. I'll make breakfast."

Lowell: "..."

His shoulders slumped slightly.

Methode raised her hand, her fingertips gracefully touching her lips, and let out a soft laugh.

The road has come to an end.

On a huge, protruding eagle-beak-shaped rock, nests made of thick, withered branches and mud were densely packed, almost covering the entire top of the rock. The air was filled with the distinctive pungent smell of birds, mixed with the odor of weathered bone fragments.

Hundreds of Riftwind Cloud Eagle gathered around the nest. They were enormous, with astonishing wingspans, and the edges of their dark brown feathers gleamed with a cold, metallic sheen in the dim light. At this moment, most of the Skyhawks were staring at the uninvited guests with their sharp yellow eyes, emitting low, threatening growls from their throats.

Fern stopped, her staff silently appearing. She calmly swept it across the rocky summit, quickly assessing the situation.

"That's quite a lot."

Lowell crossed his arms, nodded, then stretched out a hand and swung it forcefully forward towards the hideous lair and horde of monsters, his voice booming:

"You're the ones I've chosen! Go!"

Methode stood slightly behind him and tilted her head upon hearing this.

"Isn't Mr. Lowell going to make a move?"

"He doesn't like fighting," Frieren answered for Lowell, her gaze falling on a purple wildflower bent askew by the wind in a crevice in the rocks. "Besides, you can handle it."

"You must really enjoy fighting. After all, you're a race from the Northern Plateau that specializes in hunting Demons."

A soft smile immediately spread across Methode's face as she looked at Frieren, her voice filled with undisguised pleasure.

"Ah... Miss Frieren actually knows about us. How delightful..."

Frieren: "..."

"Whoosh--!"

The next instant, several condensed white beams of light, like a sudden, reversed meteor shower, burst forth from the tip of Fern's Staff, tearing through the air and carrying a shrill shriek as they covered Eagle Beak Rock. The light was so dense that it almost formed a dazzling screen, instantly engulfing the dozen or so cloud eagles in the front row that were about to take flight.

The monster's hiss and the muffled thud of flesh being pierced exploded simultaneously.

Almost at the same moment Fern made his move, Methode gracefully raised her right hand and held up her staff, using the same Ordinary Attack Magic, only slower than Fern.

Liletta did not participate in the aerial clearing. Her figure had already vanished from the spot, turning into a blurry black line, directly cutting into the depths of the nest. Each flash of sword light was accompanied by the collapse of the withered branch nest and the shattering of the eaglets or eggs that had not yet taken flight and were hiding in the nest. Her movements were efficient and concise, without any superfluity, her golden eyes indifferent, as if she were merely clearing away a pile of obstructive debris.

The battle began suddenly and ended quickly.

It took no more than a few dozen breaths.

On Eagle's Beak Rock, not a single Wind -Riftwind Cloud Eagle remained alive. Only scattered feathers, a collapsed nest, and remnants of blood and magic quickly scattered in the air by the wind.

Fern set down his staff, his breathing steady. Methode straightened her perfectly neat sleeves, her smile as gentle as ever. Liletta flicked a speck of dirt from her blade and silently sheathed it.

The wind was still howling, sweeping across the empty rocky roof.

By the time we returned to the bridgehead, it was nearly dusk.

Gaan remained seated on the log, seemingly unmoved.

Seeing the group return, he asked nothing, but silently took out a booklet and handed it to Lowell was walking at the front.

Lowell took it, his fingertips brushing against the cover of the spellbook, then naturally turned and handed it to Frieren beside him.

Frieren caught it, her emerald eyes brightening, and hugged it to her chest.

"What are your plans after this?" Lowell asked casually, glancing at Gaan. "The bridge's finished. Retiring?"

Gaan raised his eyes, glanced at him, and slowly nodded.

"You really know me. Yes, it's time to retire. Go back to the village."

Frieren looked up from her spellbook.

"Huh? The village?"

Just then, a dozen or so men, carrying large wooden cups and wine jars, walked over, their faces bearing simple and cheerful smiles.

"Gaan! Grandpa! It's done! We're going to have a good drink tonight!"

They spoke loudly and slapped Gaan's strong shoulders forcefully. Gaan was pushed to his feet.

He turned around with the men, preparing to walk towards the campfire. After taking a few steps, he stopped and turned back.

His rough face was etched with deep furrows by the twilight and the distant firelight. His gaze swept over Lowell, over Frieren, and finally settled on the gray-black stone bridge that stood silently spanning the gale and the abyss.

"Indeed, it is a village." His voice, mixed with the men's laughter and the sound of the wind, was somewhat low, but very clear.

"It was rebuilt a long time ago."

He paused, as if explaining, or perhaps simply speaking to himself.

"After all, two hundred years have passed."

After saying that, he turned around and followed his jubilant fellow villagers toward the camp where the lights were beginning to come on, his figure slowly merging into the warm, dim light.

Frieren clutched the spellbook, gazing in the direction he had disappeared, her emerald eyes reflecting the flickering firelight.

"I see."

She said softly.

Then he lowered his head and continued flipping through the magic book in his hand that promised "Always Having Success When Making Pancakes."