The Way Home

Duncan pushed back his chair and stood up. The golden chair legs scraped against the floor with a short hissing sound.

"That's enough for today's conversation, Macht. We'll be going now."

Macht also stood up. He touched his chest, bowed, and his movements were so precise that it was as if he had measured it with a ruler.

"As you wish, Duncan."

The group retraced their steps.

The golden pavement beneath my feet remained as solid as ever, and the sound of my footsteps echoed in the frozen air. On both sides of the street, the scenes frozen in time silently receded into the distance.

After walking a short distance, Duncan spoke. His voice was low, blending into the sound of his footsteps.

Lowell.

"Um?"

"I can not understand."

Duncan stopped and turned around. His face was expressionless, but his eyes held a heavy sense of confusion.

Why do you think I can win?

Lowell stopped too. He looked at Duncan, his dark eyes calm in the dim light.

"Because I can't imagine a man like you losing."

Duncan remained silent for a moment.

"... To be honest," he looked away, gazing at the spire of a golden clock tower in the distance, "I don't really think I can beat the teacher at all."

"No, Duncan."

Frieren's voice came from beside him. She tilted her head, her emerald green eyes looking at Duncan.

"Haven't you noticed? He's weakened in at least two ways compared to before."

Duncan turned his face back.

"... What?"

"First," Frieren held up a finger, "Based on the information Lairen provided earlier, Serie used 'Curse Reversal Magic' to suppress Macht for a time. He should have realized that his 'Diagoldze' magic is not unbreakable."

"Macht is very strong. So strong that even Lowell from six hundred years ago admitted he might not be able to withstand that attack. Lowell used endless clones to suppress him, along with Gravity Magic control and ranged magic attacks, to forcibly suppress him. To kill him, you would have to exhaust his magic power, which would be a huge waste of time."

He once believed that, apart from Mental Magic users like Grausam, who were the most troublesome to him, he had virtually no natural enemies. But the battle with Serie... he realized that his magic was not invincible.

She lowered her fingers.

"I provoked him just now, but he didn't use that move against me. Why?"

Fern stood to the side, blinking her pale purple eyes.

"... because he's afraid of revealing his magic again," she continued softly, her voice steady, "Let's find a way to break it."

"That's right," Frieren nodded, "That's why I provoked him like that. He didn't dare use it, as expected."

Lowell crossed his arms.

"Hmm. As for the second point..."

"It's my judgment, Duncan. Macht knows I have the ability to 'Future Prediction.' And he knows I can only see the 'predetermined future.'"

He paused for a moment, letting his words settle.

"So, when I say something like 'You'll lose to Duncan '... what happens in his mind?"

Duncan's pupils contracted slightly.

"He would subconsciously... be convinced in his heart," he said slowly, his voice lowering, "'I have lost to Duncan.'"

"That's it," Lowell said. "Mentally, he's already in turmoil. For a Demons who strives for perfection and takes pride in magic, such subconscious wavering is fatal."

Duncan remained silent for a long time.

The wind blew from beyond the Golden Land, sweeping across this frozen realm with a low, mournful sound. He stood there, his back straight, like an old tree rooted in the golden wasteland.

"... Really?" he finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse. "So, even a teacher has such a weakness."

"So," Lowell looked at him, his dark eyes calm, "You called him 'teacher.' You didn't want to kill him, did you?"

Duncan did not answer immediately.

He lowered his head, looking at his outstretched palm. His palms bore the thin calluses from years of holding a cane, and the lines etched by time. Then, he slowly closed his fingers and clenched them into a fist.

"... Indeed," he said, his voice calming down, carrying a serenity honed by the passage of time. "Although my teacher did what he did... he did save Weise countless times. Without him, this city might have been destroyed long ago."

Lowell nodded.

"Very good. Brainwave synchronization is achieved."

He patted Duncan on the shoulder.

"Keep preparing, Duncan. Also..."

He stretched out his hand, palm facing up.

"Give me your memories. I will pass them on to Frieren."

Duncan looked up at him, paused for a second, then reached out and took Lowell's hand.

"Good."

Fern blinked.

"Huh? What is it?"

"It was Edel who obtained Macht's memories."

Duncan explained, his voice steady.

"She stole nearly a hundred years of Macht's memories. 'Magic is a world of imagination.' If one could know everything that had happened to Macht over the past hundred years, perhaps one could understand Macht, and thus... understand the magic of Diagoldze."

Upon hearing this, Frieren curled her lips downwards.

"... a hundred years."

She dragged out the melody.

"It's exhausting to listen to."

Fern looked at Lowell.

"Huh? Isn't it Lowell who's going to analyze this?"

"That won't do."

Lowell shook his head.

"I'm a crucial fighting force. Analyzing this thing would require at least several months to maintain my combat effectiveness. The fastest way, naturally, is to immerse myself completely in it, leaving only a little time for basic functions like eating in reality."

He looked at Frieren.

"Frieren now, ten days should be enough. If it were me, it would be much faster, but I won't put myself in that situation—I need to ensure your safety."

Duncan and Lowell's palms touched. A very faint milky white halo appeared on Duncan's palm, flashing and disappearing in an instant.

Lowell's body swayed almost imperceptibly. He closed his eyes, then opened them again, raising his other hand to press against his forehead.

"... Tsk." He clicked his tongue. "A hundred years of memories... that's really hard to catch up on."

He steadied his breathing and turned to Frieren.

"Frieren, it's all yours now."

He extended his hand. Frieren naturally raised her hand and grasped his.

The same milky white halo flowed and passed between their clasped hands.

Frieren's emerald eyes suddenly lost focus the moment the light entered her palm.

She swayed, like a silver plant suddenly stripped of its support, and fell softly forward.

Lowell reached out and caught her.

He carried her on his back. Frieren's silvery-white head slumped on his shoulder, her eyes half-closed, her long eyelashes drooping down, casting two quiet shadows beneath her eyelids. Her breathing was light and even, as if she were asleep, but her brows were slightly furrowed, showing a hint of fatigue.

Fern watched this scene, his pale purple eyes widening slightly.

"... So that's how it is?" she said softly.

Frieren lay on Lowell's back and let out a weak groan.

"Mmm..." Her voice was soft and drawn-out, each word trailing off, "Analyzing this memory... requires a great deal of mental strength... the body's processing capacity... all depends on magical resources..."

She struggled to lift her eyelids slightly, her emerald eyes looking at Fern, their depths veiled with a thick layer of mist. Then, her eyes suddenly curved into a smile, flashing a familiar, slightly mischievous light.

"Fern..." she drawled, her voice as soft as Melt maltose, "... remember to feed me..."

She lay there contentedly, a little cat-like smile curving upwards at the corners of her mouth.

"You also need to help me change clothes... take a bath... and braid my hair..."

Fern looked at her and remained silent for two seconds.

Then, she sighed softly. The sigh was short and quickly dissipated in the wind.

"It's just like any other day," she said flatly, turning and walking towards the cottage. "I understand, Frieren."

Lowell carried Frieren on his back, following behind her. His steps were steady.

Methode walked a little behind, her hands elegantly folded in front of her. She looked at Lowell's drowsy, silvery-white head on his back, her blue-violet eyes curving upwards, a soft ripple spreading across their depths.

"Ah..." she sighed softly, her voice brimming with undisguised pleasure, "Miss Frieren is so adorable when she's sleepy..."

Liletta walked at the back of the group, her golden eyes gazing ahead, her face expressionless.

Duncan stood there, watching their figures gradually disappear into the distance, then turned back and glanced at the lord's mansion standing amidst the golden stillness.

He stood there for a long time.

Then he turned around, started walking, and followed.