After the Spar

For the next few days, the group stayed in Oysast with nothing to do—after all, this was the headquarters of the Magic Association, and the surrounding area had been cleared so thoroughly that it was hard to find even a decent monster. If anything were to wreak havoc here, the Demon King himself would probably have to come knocking on their door.

Frieren simply told Himmel "we need to wait for Lowell for a few days." Himmel didn't mind. Even without monsters to fight, he still helped out in the city every day with Heiter and Eisen, either assisting in moving goods or mediating minor disputes, practicing his way of the hero.

Until the afternoon of the fifth day.

The once clear sky above the Tower of the Firmament suddenly erupted with a piercing, ear-piercing sound, as if crystal had been ripped apart! A narrow spatial rift abruptly opened, and then a figure slammed heavily into the semi-transparent magical barrier surrounding the tower, creating a violent ripple.

It was Serie. Her long, golden hair was slightly disheveled, her white robe was stained with soot, and a trace of blood lingered at the corner of her mouth. She braced herself against the barrier's light wall, her crimson eyes Burning with fierce fighting spirit instead of defeat. She licked her lips, gazing at the slowly closing crack. "Tsk, this move is interesting. Finally using her true power? Then..."

Lowell's voice came from the crack, his tone completely different from his usual lazy and easygoing manner, carrying a rare, natural authority that came from going all out. But if you listened carefully, you could also detect a hint of panic, eager to end things. "Stop 'that'! It's a deal! Going out of bounds means you lose!"

Serie glanced around, confirming that she was indeed outside the spatial dimension. She scoffed in annoyance, but a satisfied look of exhilaration appeared on her face. "Well, this was quite enjoyable." Before she finished speaking, she flashed and transformed into a stream of light, disappearing into the tower.

At this moment, high up in the tower, a magically constructed radiant sunlight shines upon a boundless field of vibrant flowers. Various rare and exotic blossoms bloom in Bloom, their fragrance filling the air, a stark contrast to Serie's usual cold and aloof demeanor.

Ruby was crouching on the ground, carefully touching a small blue flower with star-like glints on the edges of its petals with her fingers, her emerald eyes filled with curiosity and joy. She had stumbled upon this hidden treasure while wandering around during a break from practicing magic.

Suddenly, she sensed the intense fluctuations emanating from the barrier outside the tower and the lingering echoes of the collision between those two familiar magical powers. She abruptly stood up. "Master's magic?" Without a second thought, she immediately cast Flight Magic and sped off in the direction from which the fluctuations were coming.

When she arrived near the outer barrier of the tower, she saw Serie wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth, a "you barely win" expression on her face, disappear into the barrier. Ruby hurriedly flew forward, her little face full of worry, and reached out to help her. "Master! Are you alright? Uh... are you done fighting? Let me help you to get treatment?"

Serie glanced at her, casually wiping the blood from the corner of her mouth, her tone still carrying her usual disdain. "Mind your own business. Get out of here." After saying that, she walked along the path into the depths of the flower field on her own. Her steps seemed steady, but upon closer inspection, her breathing was slightly more rapid than usual, though her back was ramrod straight.

Ruby was already used to her master's disdain, and followed closely behind like a puppy worried about its master. Her emerald eyes curiously surveyed this secret realm within the tower that she had never seen before. "Master, Master! This flower field is so beautiful! I didn't know you could grow so many flowers in the tower?" She tried to break the silence with a lighthearted topic.

Serie didn't stop, walking silently for a short distance. Just when Ruby thought she wouldn't answer, she heard two curt words from ahead. "Mind your own business."

"Huh? But..." Ruby more curious. She jogged a couple of steps to catch up with Serie, tilting her head as she asked, "Then why did you put such a big flower field in your tower? It must be such a hassle to take care of!"

Serie stopped, turned her head, glanced at Ruby with a sidelong look, and interrupted her incessant chatter, "The third protective barrier outside the tower is partially damaged. Go and repair it."

"Huh?" Ruby's face fell instantly, and she instinctively pouted. "Repairing the outer barrier? That's incredibly tiring physical work... it requires channeling so much magic... Master..."

She tried to whine, but under the watchful, yet unwaveringly intimidating gaze of Serie, her voice trailed off until she finally slumped her shoulders resignedly, "... Okay, I'll go right now."

Watching Ruby herself and turning back every few steps, Serie gave a barely perceptible soft "humph," her gaze sweeping over the meticulously tended flower field before continuing her journey towards her dwelling deep within it. Sunlight filtered through the magically simulated clouds, illuminating her silhouette and bathing the tranquil yet radiant sea of flowers in its glow.

"..."

Meanwhile, on the terrace of an inn in the city below the tower, Frieren held a warm cup of fragrant floral tea, her silver eyelashes gleaming in the sunlight. She tilted her head slightly, her emerald pupils reflecting the now-calm sky, as if they could penetrate the tower and sense the lingering echoes of the duel deep within its walls had subsided. She gently blew away the rising steam from the cup.

"It seems to be over."

Himmel, who was sitting beside him wiping his longsword, looked up upon hearing this, a gentle smile appearing on his handsome face beneath his blue hair, "Five days have passed; it must have been a rather fierce contest."

Frieren didn't reply, but simply lowered her head and took a sip of tea, letting the floral fragrance spread on her tongue. A faint, elusive emotion flickered deep within her emerald eyes, like a sense of relief, or perhaps some deeper consideration. The warm sunlight bathed her, and from the broken barrier outside the tower, the faint, earnest humming of Ruby, adding a touch of vibrant accompaniment to the peaceful afternoon.

The battle had ended by noon, but it wasn't until night fell, staining the sky of Oysast as black as ink, that the door to the inn was gently pushed open, and Lowell appeared in the doorway.

He was still dressed in his usual black travel attire, showing no signs of having just been through a fierce battle. His expression was as languid and easygoing as ever, as if he had simply gone out for a stroll all afternoon. No one knew where he had been or what he had done during that time.

He first routinely checked on Lupa's condition. The red-haired girl had just finished her evening physical training and was sitting on a mat in the corner, adjusting her breathing. She was soaked in sweat and breathing heavily, but her eyes were bright and determined. Lowell looked at her slightly trembling but taut arm muscles and nodded. "Progress is good. Pay attention to the recovery process after the muscles exert force; that's also part of the training."

"Yes, Master." Lupa nodded vigorously, her voice hoarse from exhaustion, but full of strength.

Then, Lowell's gaze shifted to Linié, who was quietly standing on the other side. The pink-haired girl was meticulously repeating the most basic slashing movements as he had suggested, her posture as precise as if measured with a ruler. "How's the training?" he asked casually.

Linié stopped what she was doing, her deep blue eyes turning to Lowell, and answered in her flat voice, "Tiles tossing, previous record was twenty-seven, currently thirty. The training program with Lupa is complete."

She paused, then added, "Apple."

Lowell paused for a moment, then chuckled and handed over a bag of bright red apples from his personal storage space—a bag he'd apparently bought sometime earlier—saying, "Here, as promised."

Linié took the apple, but didn't eat it immediately. Instead, she examined it carefully before taking a bite and chewing quietly, her face still expressionless.

Finally, he walked over to Frieren was lying on the bed reading a magic book. The silver-haired elf seemed indifferent to the commotion around her, not even lifting her eyelids, completely absorbed in the ancient book that was as thick as a brick. Only the occasional unconscious wiggle of her toes revealed a hint of comfort.

Lowell didn't speak, but simply took out a wreath woven from various flowers from behind him. The flowers were colorful and carried the fresh scent of the fields. He gently placed the wreath on Frieren's silver hair, which was scattered on the pillow.

Frieren's fingers, which were turning the pages of the book, paused for a moment. She finally looked up, blinked her emerald eyes as if in confusion, and then slowly got up and walked to the mirror in the corner of the room.

Her reflection appeared in the mirror; a colorful floral wreath adorned her long, silvery-white hair, adding a rare, vibrant beauty to her usually somewhat aloof demeanor. She gazed at it quietly for a few seconds, then gently touched a petal with her finger, asking in a calm, even tone:

Where did it come from?

Lowell leaned against the window, watching her profile, smiled, and said with a hint of smug satisfaction, "I picked her up from the Serie flower field."

Upon hearing this, Frieren turned her head.

"Does she have a flower field in her tower?"

"Yes, it's similar to Flamme's, maybe even bigger, and it's styled just like Flamme's."

Frieren didn't speak again. She simply turned her head and looked at herself in the mirror for a while, then silently walked back to the bedside, picked up the huge magic book again, as if the little incident had never happened. Only the vibrant flower wreath remained firmly on her head, swaying gently in the lamplight with her subtle movements as she read, emitting a faint fragrance.

The room fell silent again, save for the soft rustling of Linié munching on her apple, Lupa's long, even breaths, and Frieren's turning of the pages. This small, real companionship flowed quietly through the night.