Prelude to Change

Frieren looked up from the Mercury Pudding.

You're back?

Lowell walked over and sat down beside her, nodding.

"You're back."

"You understand?"

I understand.

He gazed calmly at the World Tree that supported the Land Where Souls Rest.

"We've obtained a lot of information. Hmm, this story might be quite long."

"However," he said, his tone calm and collected, "It's a good thing."

Fern raised his eyes. "Good news?"

"Hmm," Lowell said, "As long as I, the Demon King understands humanity, am like this..."

He raised his right hand, palm facing the smooth, mirror-like trunk of the World Tree. There was no chanting, no elaborate trajectories, just a single thought. The boundless, star-like, and serene magic within him obediently surged forth, transforming into a warm, clear, and almost invisible stream of milky-white light, silently flowing into the ancient wood.

The moment the light touched the tree trunk, the extremely faint, eternally pulsating milky-white halo on the surface of the World Tree seemed to brighten slightly.

It was very slight.

Then everything returned to normal.

Nothing seems to have changed.

But in the air, a deeper, more essential "string" seemed to be gently and permanently plucked. The vibration was silent, yet it quietly traveled along the veins of the trees, along the roots of the earth, along the unseen latitudes and longitudes of the soul, to countless distant places.

Weise, afternoon, office.

Macht sat at his large desk, holding a half-filled cup of perfectly warm black tea. Wisps of steam rose from the rim of the porcelain cup. Gluck sat opposite him in the main seat, gesturing as he recounted his experiences at the market the previous day.

"... So the design of that hinge could actually be borrowed from the magic blower in the forge. I think it could improve efficiency by at least 20%, that way..."

Gluck was speaking when he suddenly stopped.

He saw that the dark, stone-like ring on Macht's left wrist, which he had never parted with since he met his dear friend, had cracked without warning.

There was no sound, no vibration.

A crack quietly appeared at a point on the inside of the ring, and then spread across the entire ring like a spider web in an instant. Immediately afterwards, the ring turned into countless extremely tiny black particles, which fell down and piled up into an inconspicuous clump of black ash on the table. A gentle breeze blowing in from the window then dispersed it without a trace.

Gluck watched calmly.

Macht lowered his head, staring at his empty wrist for a few seconds.

Then, he slowly raised his eyes and looked out the window. His gaze passed through the streets, pedestrians, and distant city walls, landing in the north—towards the snow-covered plains at the edge of that continent.

He remained silent for a long time.

When Gluck was about to ask a question, Macht uttered a few words very softly and slowly:

"... Yeah."

His voice was calm, even carrying a hint of knowing sigh.

"I see."

"What's wrong, old friend?"

"It's nothing, Lord Gluck... no," he changed his address, using a more intimate and long-forgotten form of address, "Old friend."

Macht turned back, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

"I just feel that today's black tea seems particularly sweet."

Continental United Academy, History of Magic Lecture Hall.

Solitär sat in the last row by the window. The afternoon sun slanted in, casting a windowpane shadow on the notebook in front of her. On the podium, an elderly lecturer was recounting the rise and fall of an ancient magical dynasty in a hypnotic tone.

She turned her head slightly, her emerald eyes gazing out the window at the courtyard. Several old trees were sprouting new buds, their tender green color appearing almost translucent in the light. Her right hand rested casually on her knees, her pure white skirt cascading down like mercury.

At this very moment.

The same black stone ring on her left wrist silently turned into powder.

It shattered completely, turning into a clump of black ash that landed on her pure white skirt, quickly sliding to the ground and disappearing into the cracks in the floor.

Solitär withdrew her gaze from the window, lowered her head, and looked at her suddenly empty wrist. Her gaze lingered there for two seconds, her eyelashes casting a faint shadow on her cheek.

Then, the corners of her mouth slowly curled upwards.

In the depths of her ever-half-open, languidly playful purple eyes, a startlingly bright, pure, and joyful light suddenly flashed, like a child finally glimpsing the core of a secret.

"Oh?"

She murmured to herself, her voice so low that only she could hear it.

"This answer... isn't exactly boring."

Outside a small village nestled in a forest on the border of Southern Lands.

On the dirt road, a villager scrambled to escape, his heavy breathing tearing at his throat, one of his straw sandals already lost. Behind him, heavy, inhuman footsteps followed closely, each step causing the ground to tremble slightly.

He tripped and fell forward, dust choking his nose and mouth. In despair, he turned around.

The tall figure, covered in cold, deep blue scales, stood before them, casting a shadow that completely enveloped him. The Demons general held his longsword, stained with countless drops of blood, high in the hand, its blade reflecting a chilling, deathly white light in the slanting afternoon sunlight.

The villagers closed their eyes, awaiting the end of their lives.

However, the expected excruciating pain did not occur.

There was only a sudden, deathly silence.

He trembled as he opened his eyes a crack.

The longsword froze in mid-air, half a foot in front of his forehead, motionless, as if time Frozen at that moment. The Demons general holding the sword stood there stiffly, his eyes, which were usually filled with only scarlet bloodlust, now staring intently and almost blankly at the sword in his hand, as if he were truly "seeing" it for the first time.

Deep within the pupils, something was violently churning, colliding, and struggling—it was instinct, habit, and a killing command ingrained in the bones, battling against another, suddenly awakened, strange, and faint "something."

A few seconds of suffocating silence followed.

The general suddenly flipped his wrist.

"Clang--!"

With a thud, he slammed the longsword into the soil beside him, burying it all the way to the hilt. He bent down, his scaly body reaching out with the large hand that had once easily crushed bones, and grabbed the villager's collar, which was already soaked with sweat. As if lifting a light piece of cargo, he lifted the completely exhausted man off the ground and roughly slammed him to the ground, making him barely stand.

Then, he let go.

Without uttering a word or glancing at the stunned villagers again, the general turned, pulled his longsword, which was deeply embedded in the earth, shook off the clods of dirt, and then strode heavily into the depths of the dense, dark forest, the complete opposite of the village with its rising smoke.

The villagers collapsed to the ground, staring blankly in the direction where the massive figure had disappeared, their lips trembling, completely unable to comprehend what had happened in the blink of an eye.

In a bustling commercial street in one of the Central Lands.

Aura and Will walked side by side through the afternoon crowd. Will carried several paper bags filled with newly bought clothes and snacks. Aura held a bunch of candied apples she had just bought, taking small bites.

She suddenly stopped in her tracks.

On his left wrist, the black stone ring quietly shattered, and the black ash slid down his wrist and was blown away by the street wind.

Aura lowered her head, looking at her suddenly smooth wrists, then raised her head again, her gaze passing through the noisy crowd and colorful signs, looking towards the northern sky, bisected by the city's outline. She blinked her eyes, a color even redder than the candied apple in her hand, a small piece of sweet apple still in her mouth, her cheeks puffed out slightly, giving her a somewhat bewildered and adorable expression.

Will noticed her pause and stopped as well, turning his head to look at her with a questioning expression on his blonde face.

"Sister, what's wrong? Do you want to eat something else?"

Aura turned her head to look at Will, slowly shook her head, and swallowed the sweet fruit in her mouth.

"... It's nothing." Her voice was as soft as ever, revealing little emotion.

She reached out and naturally took Will's free arm, leaning her body gently against him.

"Let's go, Will. There's a pretty dress in the window of that shop over there, let's go take a look."

"Good."

"Lord Aura, in human terms, I think this is called 'an old cow eating tender grass'..." Lugner, who was following a few steps behind, muttered under his breath while carrying the large and small packages he had purchased.

"Get lost, we're siblings." Aura didn't even turn his head.

"Okay." Lugner readily agreed and immediately shut up, turning his gaze to a barbecue stall across the street, as if he hadn't said anything at all.

A hot spring inn hidden in the mountains, with an open-air bath.

Elder submerged his entire body in the milky-white hot spring, leaving only his head above water. Gazing at the distant snow-capped mountain peaks, he let out a long, comfortable sigh. The rising steam blurred the outline of the wooden eaves.

He raised his arm, intending to wipe the water from his face.

The action was halfway through when it suddenly stopped.

On his wrist, the pitch-black stone ring was silently crumbling before his eyes, turning into a black mist finer than the steam from a hot spring and dissipating into the air.

Elder stared at his suddenly "clean" wrist, blinking his eyes, which were slightly blurry from the heat.

Then, without saying anything, he slowly leaned back against the warm stone by the pool, rested his head on the edge of the pool, and closed his eyes.

"Haa..."

He let out a long sigh, whether it was a sigh of relief at the sudden relief or simply a sigh of enjoying this moment of ultimate relaxation. He slid down a little further, letting the spring water reach his nose, leaving only his eyes and above exposed, gazing at the sliver of blue sky above the valley, blurred by the mist.

"... not bad."

He spoke softly, his voice Melt into the bubbling of water.

"That's it... let's soak until dinner time."

The perimeter of the Continental United Academy.

Sam stood silently, his expression unchanged.

I just uttered one sentence.

"His Majesty..."

Inside a quiet hotel room in a small border town in the southern part of the empire.

The last rays of the setting sun shone through the lattice window, casting warm dappled light on the wooden floor. Lupa sat in a chair by the window, carefully wiping the crimson blade of the Flame Banner Spear with a soft cloth. Each wipe was steady and focused, the spear gleaming with a restrained luster in the dimming light.

Linié sat on another low stool next to her, taking small, earnest bites of a green apple, her pale purple eyes lowered, focused on the fruit in her hand.

Linié suddenly let out a very faint "Eh".

She raised her left hand, and the black stone ring on her wrist shattered inch by inch under the gaze of her calm, pale purple eyes, turning into fine black dust that slipped away between her slender fingers.

Lupa stopped wiping, her heterochromatic eyes turning towards her.

Linié tilted her head, looking at her empty wrist. A faint hint of doubt crossed her face, but more than that, there was a calm sense of "it should be this way." She shook her hand, brushing off the last bit of black ash.

"It's broken," she stated.

"Things that should have been thrown away long ago, Master is too cautious," Lupa said, reaching out to ruffle Linié's soft pink hair.

Linié didn't dodge; instead, she tilted her head slightly to make it easier for her to move. Her pale purple eyes narrowed comfortably, like a cat being stroked.

"Mmm..." she hummed in agreement, then added, her tone carrying a clear, her own judgment, "We should celebrate."

Lupa smiled and gently leaned the polished, gleaming spear aside. She bent down, rummaged through her bag for a while, and then magically produced an apple that was larger, redder, and more lustrous than the one in Linié's hand, and offered it to her.

"Here, a big apple for the victory celebration."

Linié's eyes lit up instantly, as if stars had fallen into them. She immediately put down the half-eaten apple, took the "big apple" with both hands, hugged it tightly to her chest, and her voice was tinged with a clear, soft joy:

"Wow... a big apple! It's Linié's big apple!"

She hugged the apple tightly to her chest, rubbing her cheek against the cool, smooth peel with satisfaction, then looked up at Lupa with pure and bright joy in her eyes.

Snowfield. Land Where Souls Rest. World Tree.

Lowell withdrew his hand from the tree trunk. The warm, magical light flowed silently, as if it had never appeared. His arm fell to his side, and his fingertips seemed to still retain the powerful and ancient pulse of the giant tree's veins.

He stood there quietly, gazing up at the ancient tree before him, which seemed to stretch to the heavens and earth, supporting the entire tranquil space, without uttering a word for a long time. Soft sunlight filtered through the layers of emerald canopy, casting flowing and changing light and shadow on his face.

After a long silence, he spoke very softly, as if answering Fern's brief question, or perhaps simply recounting this truth, spanning countless years, to this all-encompassing silence and to his loved ones beneath the tree:

"Yes, that's good news."

"Because from today onwards, some choices... can finally truly be made by themselves."

"The Dominating Stone Ring has fulfilled its mission."

The wind, rising from who knows where, swept through the boundless, lush canopy of the World Tree, bringing a soothing, deep, and continuous rustling sound. The sound was not like the ordinary rustling of the forest, but rather a grand and harmonious echo woven from countless subtle sighs, whispers, throbbing, and bewildered awakenings.

It is light and faint, yet it carries a weight that penetrates the barriers of the soul. In this peaceful resting place where the past and eternity converge, it quietly spreads, seeping into every inch of warm light and every breath of crisp air, and finally returns to the silent and all-encompassing grass beneath our feet.

At the same time, across the mainland.

Those who were once bound by the dark stone rings—whether on the edge of a blood-soaked battlefield, hidden in the dimly lit alleys of a city, or walking alone in the desolate wilderness under the moonlight—the tangible or intangible shackles on their wrists, at this moment, in the silence unknown to anyone, silently crumbled.

There were no extraordinary phenomena that changed the color of the heavens and earth, no radiant transformation, and no sudden enlightenment.

There was only a faint, almost imperceptible crack, or a wisp of black mist quietly dissipating, followed by a long silence, perhaps tinged with bewilderment, helplessness, emptiness, or subtle tremors.

Then came their different reactions.

At this moment, the existence of the Demons underwent a calm, almost natural shift. Like a mighty river that had been flowing for too long, deep within an unseen riverbed, a boulder that had long existed but gone unnoticed quietly loosened and shifted. The direction of the water flow did not reverse instantly, but the heavy, tacitly accepted trajectory, from that moment on, quietly loosened a crack.

Light may not yet be able to shine into every abyss.

But at least, the latch on that door, locked from the inside and forgotten for far too long, has been lowered.

The world continues to turn according to its rhythm. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, people work and rest, and joys and sorrows unfold every day. Only some ancient shackles, deeply rooted in the blood and soul and considered to be as essential as breathing, have quietly slipped away and fallen into the dust of time.

The prelude to change began in the silence, unnoticed by most living beings.

Group 1014047121.