Noon at the Base

The next day, at noon.

The base's rooms were spacious, with several tall south-facing windows that let in the bright midday sun. The abundant light cast a clean, warm glow on the dark wooden floors and white walls. The air was filled with the faint aroma of fresh bread and fried bacon, mixed with the distant clamor of celebration preparations drifting in from outside.

Sein stood in the center of the room, raised his hand, clenched his fist, and lightly but firmly punched Kleis's solid shoulder with a dull thud.

You bastard!

His voice was loud and clear, filled with the bright joy of a long-awaited reunion.

You promised you'd come back to find me no matter what in three years!

Kleis's shoulder swayed from the punch, but he didn't flinch. He raised his hand, rubbed the spot where he'd been hit, and a smile, a mixture of apology and hearty grin, spread across his face.

"Haha... what can I do?" He scratched his head; his blond hair seemed shorter and neater than he remembered. "What can I do? I owe her a life. Although she said I didn't need to repay her or anything..."

His smile turned somewhat helpless, yet also resigned.

"But I still want to help her as much as I can! Besides, I believe you'll come to me sooner or later."

Sein lowered his hands, crossed his arms, and looked him up and down a few times. His face had a complex expression, as if he had a lot to say, but in the end, it just turned into a long, amused sigh.

"Really?" He shook his head, as if accepting the explanation, yet also as if he couldn't do anything about it. "Never mind, anyway, we'll have to have a good drink tonight."

"No problem! My treat..." Kleis readily agreed, then his smile froze as he remembered something. He reached into his pocket and felt around, his expression turning awkward. "Wait, I don't have any savings."

He made a face and pointed to the side.

"My money was all spent on drinking by that alcoholic 'sister'."

Sein followed his finger and looked on in confusion.

"Sister?" He blinked. "Where did you get a sister?"

A few steps away, Schritt was holding her metal flask, tilting her head back to take what seemed like the umpteenth swig of the day. Hearing Kleis's words, she immediately put down the flask, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand in a bold gesture, then raised her free hand high and waved it vigorously a few times, a big, radiant smile, tinged with the effects of the alcohol, spreading across her face.

"It's me!" Her voice was clear and crisp, with a touch of self-satisfied pride. "I'm the sister! Hmm... Ha! The most precious freedom in Nod-Krai is the freedom to drink! The undercover operation should be almost over; I'll go drinking with Venti another day."

Sein looked at her, then at Kleis, a knowing look slowly spreading across his face. He stroked his chin, his gaze lingering for a moment on Schritt's flushed cheeks and bright eyes, before turning to Kleis, patting him on the shoulder with a meaningful tone.

"I see, so you like this type."

He abruptly changed the subject, puffed out his chest, and flashed his signature, slightly narcissistic smile.

"But I still prefer the older sister type. Um, Miss Lore-- "

He turned to Lore, who had been standing quietly in the shadows by the window. Her eyes were still closed, her hands clasped in front of her, and her dark nun's habit made her skin appear slightly pale, like a silent porcelain statue.

"Would you like to grab a drink tonight?" Sein leaned closer, his tone clearly expectant.

Lore's eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly. She didn't open her eyes, her lips parted slightly, and a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz yet exceptionally clear floated out, without any inflection.

"Goddess Majesty, monks should not indulge in alcohol. Please keep your distance from me."

Sein's expectation vanished instantly. His shoulders slumped, he raised a hand to scratch his short brown hair, and let out a resentful sigh.

"Damn it, I got rejected..." he muttered, looking annoyed. "This is the second lady to reject me today..."

The other person he was referring to was standing on the other side of the room at that moment.

Methode bent slightly, gently encircling Iris in her arms. Her blue-violet eyes curved into gentle crescents, and her face radiated undisguised affection and contentment. With one hand, she stroked Iris's long, pale golden hair, styled in twin braids, while with the other, she gently patted her back, her movements as tender as if she were cherishing a fragile jewel.

"Oh, hehe..." She chuckled softly, and upon hearing Sein's words, turned her head to give him a slightly apologetic smile, but her hands didn't stop moving. "I'm sorry, Mr. Sein. I only like petite and cute girls."

Iris was almost buried in Methode's chest, with only half her face showing. Her eyes were closed, and she rubbed her cheek against Methode's soft fabric with satisfaction, making soft, comforting purrs like a kitten. She didn't even lift her eyelids at what Sein was going through.

In the corner of the room, Linié sat alone in a high-backed chair. Her pink twin ponytails hung over her shoulders, her purple eyes gazed quietly ahead, and she held a half-eaten red apple in her hand. She took small, rhythmic bites, making crisp "crunch" sounds, seemingly oblivious to the noise around her, focused only on the food in her hand.

Lupa stood beside Linié. She was dressed in a white, practical outfit that accentuated her tall and agile figure, and a simple-looking spear with a cold, gleaming tip hung at her waist. Her heterochromatic eyes were currently fixed on the list spread out on the wooden table in the center of the room. After looking at it for a while, she slightly turned her head and glanced at Lowell, who was whispering something to Frieren at the table.

"Hmm..." she began, her voice steady, carrying the calm quality unique to a warrior, "Should I say the other party is courageous, or lacks self-awareness, Master?"

Lowell turned his head at the sound.

Lupa lightly tapped her fingertips on the list filled with the names of formidable enemies.

"Does the enemy know we are the enemy, yet they still attempt to assassinate us?"

Lowell stroked his chin.

"Who knows what they're thinking? But it's better to be safe than sorry."

He suddenly remembered something and turned to Linié in the corner.

"Linié, stop using your magical perception," he warned, pointing towards the ceiling as if he could see the sky further through the roof. "Serie has been provoking us since last night, and her magical perception has been blatantly covering the entire Imperial Capital. If you try to perceive it now, you'll only get a headache from her massive, chaotic magical flow; you won't detect anything useful."

Linié stopped biting into the apple. She slowly turned her head, her purple eyes looking at Lowell, her face expressionless. Then, she said "Oh," abruptly stopping the release of her magic, lowered her head, and continued to focus intently on the remaining apple in her hand.

After finishing the fruit in a few bites, she held the bare pit in her hand, casually flicked her wrist, and the pit traced a small parabola as it fell towards the corner of the wall.

A figure flashed past swiftly.

Liletta had appeared at the end of the trajectory without anyone noticing. She reached out and caught the pit precisely before it hit the ground, her movements fluid and silent. Holding the wet pit, she walked to a trash can on the side of the room and released it. The pit fell into the can with a soft "tap."

Then she turned around and looked calmly at Linié.

"Don't litter."

Linié looked up at Liletta.

Then she blinked her purple eyes, her long eyelashes drooping, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly, and her whole face quickly scrunched up into a pitiful expression that mixed innocence, grievance, and a hint of "I know I was wrong." She lowered her head and whispered:

"... oh."

Seeing this, Lupa walked to Linié's side, reached out, and ruffled her pink hair. Her movements weren't as gentle and tender as Methode's, but rather carried a warrior-like decisiveness and an unspoken intimacy. Then, she bent down, slipped her arms under Linié's knees and back, and with a slight effort, lifted the light Demons girl up, letting her sit on her strong arms.

"Alright, alright," Lupa's voice was low, with a hint of soothing, "You're just playing the victim again."

Linié sat in her arms, tilted her head back, and the pitiful expression on her face vanished instantly, returning to her usual indifference. She even admitted with self-righteousness:

"Because it works."

After speaking, she nestled her head against Lupa's neck, gently nuzzling it until she found a comfortable position and remained still. Her eyes narrowed slightly, revealing an almost contented expression.

Lowell watched this scene, smiled, and joked:

"You two are so close!"

Lupa, holding Linié, turned and smiled at Lowell upon hearing this. The smile was bright, full of vitality and a hint of barely perceptible indulgence.

"Hey-hey..."

Just then, Frieren, who had been sitting next to Lowell, taking small bites of the biscuits that Fern fed her, suddenly stopped. She blinked her emerald eyes and her gaze fell on the last red apple in the fruit bowl on the table.

She reached out and picked up the apple. Almost without pausing, she opened her mouth and took a few quick bites, incredibly fast, until only a bare core remained.

Then, under Fern's slightly helpless gaze, Frieren flicked her wrist— Imitation Linié's earlier action—and casually tossed the fruit pit towards another corner.

The pit flew half a meter through the air.

Liletta reappeared. She caught the pit with perfect accuracy once more, walked to the same trash can, and threw it away. Then she turned back to Frieren, her golden eyes calm and unwavering, and repeated what she had just said:

"Don't litter."

Frieren imitated Linié, raising her head and blinking her large, bright green eyes. She tried to purse her lips, curving the corners of her mouth downwards, attempting to create an expression of "grievance" and "acknowledgment of wrongdoing." But due to her lack of practice, the expression looked a bit stiff and deliberate, instead appearing somewhat childishly clumsy and comical. She lowered her voice, Imitation Linié's tone:

"... oh."

Lowell looked at his partner, who was clearly trying to cause trouble and couldn't even imitate it properly, and remained silent for two seconds before pressing his temple.

"Uh... okay, okay, come here for a hug, my Frieren."

"Hey-hey."