A New Name

Happy New Year, everyone! (づ￣3￣)づ╭❤~ This flashback chapter was rushed and isn't finished yet. I'll post it as I go. Including the main chapter, there will be ten chapters today.

When Lowell and his companions returned to the village, the few surviving elves were silently collecting the bodies of their fallen comrades. Their movements were slow and solemn, as if performing a silent ritual. Grief, like a tangible mist, permeated the ruins, so heavy it was almost suffocating.

Millialdai had been placed in a relatively intact house, with a simple but clean fur quilt beneath her. Flamme's healing magic had been remarkably effective; the terrible wound on her abdomen had healed, leaving only a faint pinkish new flesh. However, the weakness from excessive blood loss left her still unconscious, her face as pale as paper, though her breathing had become much more steady.

Frieren sat quietly on the wooden stool by the bed, her emerald eyes gazing at Millialdai's sleeping profile, her expression unreadable, her fingertips unconsciously stroking it gently.

Flamme stood by the window, her long orange hair swaying gently in the evening breeze. Her azure eyes swept across the desolate scene outside before finally settling on Lowell, who was leaning against the doorframe. Her gaze was calm, yet possessed a penetrating scrutiny.

"So," Flamme began, her voice cold and clear, breaking the silence in the room, "You've now broken away from the Demons and want to live as a human, right?"

Upon hearing this, Lowell lifted his eyelids slightly, his face beneath his black hair showing no surprise. "Yes. There's no need for me to lie to you, is there?"

He twitched the corners of his mouth, revealing a half-smile. "You can't beat me anyway. Besides, you're so powerful, with all those lie-detection spells and truth-revealing Mental Magic, verifying the truthfulness of my words shouldn't be difficult for you, right?"

Flamme looked at him quietly, neither denying it nor denying it, but simply saying, "Theoretically, that's true." She paused, her orange eyelashes drooping slightly, reflecting the fading light of the day outside the window, "But it seems there's really no need for that now. So, what do you intend to do next, Your Excellency Lorenz?"

"And then..." Lowell stroked his chin, seemingly deep in thought, his gaze drifting aimlessly to a point in the void. "Hmm... let's change the name first." He seemed to have finally made a decision. "Many Demons know the name Lorenz, to avoid causing unnecessary trouble..."

He hesitated for a moment, fragmented thoughts flashing through his mind. His surname was already Luo, so if he kept the surname Luo... Hmm. He vaguely remembered reading about the name "Lowell" in some miscellaneous book; it seemed to have connotations of "cherished" and "wolf cub." "Wolf cub" symbolized youth, growth, and potential, and could also be associated with new life, beginnings, and hope... This one, at least it still retained the surname "Luo."

"From now on, I'll be called Lowell." He looked up at Flamme, his tone half-joking, half-serious. "I hope this world will love me a little and give me a new lease on life?"

Then, before Flamme could react, he deliberately glanced at Frieren by the bedside, and drawled out his words in a deliberately crafted tone with a hint of wicked amusement. "What are my plans for the future...? Of course, I plan to extend my wicked hand to Frieren..."

Before she finished speaking, Flamme's azure eyes narrowed instantly, the invisible pressure in the air increased sharply, and even the window frames seemed to creak slightly.

Lowell immediately raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, her mischievous smile vanishing instantly, replaced by a helpless expression that said, "I was just kidding!" "Hey! I was just kidding! Dude! Your reaction was way too quick!"

The pressure around Flamme dissipated quietly. She let out a soft "heh," a barely perceptible smile curving her lips, her orange hair gleaming gently in the dim light. "Heh... I was just joking, Lowell." Her tone returned to its usual calm. "Since you know you're no match for me, why would I be so presumptuous as to attack you?"

Lowell pursed his lips and muttered under his breath, "Tsk, who knows you..." His voice rose slightly, tinged with self-deprecation, "After all, we're different races, it's understandable that you don't trust me."

"You understand this principle very well," Flamme's gaze lingered on his face for a moment, seemingly meaningful, "You're becoming less and less like a Demons."

"Just consider it that I've awakened my human bloodline, okay? After all, who knows if Demons can have children with humans? What if I'm a hybrid of Demons and a human?"

Lowell waved his hand, too lazy to dwell on the issue of identity any longer. He pointed towards the bed, his tone casual. "Anyway... you keep an eye on Millialdai Aldey, and Frieren too."

His gaze fell on Frieren, the silver-haired elf who remained in the same position, seemingly oblivious to their conversation, but Lowell could sense her mental exhaustion.

"Frieren is quite exhausted too," he added, his voice lower. "Elven race are just emotionally slow to react, not truly indifferent. After going through something like this... compared to me, Demons, you, as an older sister, should give her a good hug."

Flamme paused slightly, a faint, complex emotion flashing across her eyes as she looked at Lowell, before settling into a knowing, gentle expression. "Very gentle, Your Excellency." She nodded slightly. "I'm pleased."

Lowell seemed taken aback by the word "gentle," turning his face away somewhat awkwardly. He snorted and covered it up with a feigned nonchalance, saying, "Who told you you're just a human who'll die in a few decades? What's wrong with giving you Frieren for a while? Hmph, I'll live a very long time."

Upon hearing this, Flamme was not annoyed at all; instead, she chuckled softly, a smile that held a clear, all-knowing wisdom in the twilight. "Your words are truly auspicious."

Before she finished speaking, she flicked her fingertips almost imperceptibly.

A thin but concentrated white beam of light shot out suddenly, striking Lowell's arm precisely. It wasn't fatal, but it brought a tingling, numbing pain.

"Hiss—" Lowell gasped, caught off guard, clutching his arm and glaring at Flamme, "Hey! Didn't you say you wouldn't make a move?"

Flamme still wore that faint smile, her orange hair ruffling in the wind, her tone calm and even. "Just kidding, I learned it from the Demons." She paused, then added, her voice unreadable, whether self-deprecating or declaring, "I'm quite good at lying now... and lying to demons."

Lowell, seeing her nonchalant attitude, laughed in exasperation and shook his head. "Tsk, fine, you're something else." He rubbed his still-numb arm, turned, and walked towards the door. "I'll go help. The Elven race remains still need to be prepared. Although I don't know what to pray for, let's at least give them a proper burial."

He stepped out of the room, his figure disappearing into the deepening twilight.

In the village's open space, the surviving elves were still working silently, gently placing bodies covered in white sheets into newly dug pits. Lowell silently walked over and began to help fill the pits with earth.

Night completely enveloped the earth, and in the distance, the faint syllables of Lowell and the elves talking in hushed tones could be heard, but they quickly dissipated in the wind.