Early Morning

The morning mist, like a light veil soaked in water, had not yet completely dissipated and clung to the broken walls and ruins of the village.

The acrid smell of blood, a mixture of burnt and rust, had faded somewhat, but it still stubbornly reminded people of the tragedy that had occurred the day before.

Lowell leaned against a charred section of broken wall, his black hair fluttering almost imperceptibly in the cool morning breeze. He opened his eyes, showing no sign of fatigue—for Demon King, staying up all night was as natural as breathing. Although he sensed no danger, keeping watch on this land freshly soaked in blood would put the survivors at ease, and he was willing to take on this trouble.

Fortunately, the night passed peacefully.

He stood up, his joints making a few soft cracking sounds, and then walked toward the temporary house where Millialdai was being housed.

Inside the room, Millialdai was already awake.

She sat back on the simple bed covered with clean fur, her face still pale and translucent, but her emerald green eyes had regained their glimmer of light.

Frieren sat on the edge of the bed, her eyelashes lowered, carefully peeling an unknown wild fruit with a knife. Her movements were meticulous, and her emerald green pupils were focused on the spiraling peel falling from the fruit. Her face was calm and expressionless, as always.

Her face remained expressionless, as always.

Hearing footsteps, Millialdai looked up at Lowell as he entered. She coughed softly, her voice still hoarse from her injuries, but her tone retained that rare, slightly languid quality among Elven race:

"Oh, it's you. I heard you stayed up all night? Thank you. Although it feels a bit unnecessary—after all, what was bound to happen last night would have happened anyway—I appreciate this extra thought."

Lowell looked at her "I may be injured, but I can still joke" expression and gave a slight smirk.

He knew that most Elven race were emotionally detached, but Millialdai was a relatively "vibrant" exception, who liked to use this seemingly calm tone to say things that were sarcastic or teasing. After all, it was the Emperor's Wine...

"It was nothing." Lowell's tone remained casual as he walked to the table and poured himself a glass of water. "The Elven race have good recovery abilities; it seems Flamme's treatment was very effective. How are you feeling?"

"I won't die." Millialdai took the fruit pulp from Frieren, took a small bite, then looked at Frieren and said in the same flat tone, "Thanks, Frieren. But your peeling technique is still the same as always; almost half the pulp went with the peel."

Frieren blinked her emerald eyes, looking at the pitted and uneven fruit in her hand, then at Millialdai, seemingly carefully weighing the proportion of waste. In the end, she simply hummed in agreement and continued to peel the next one.

Lowell watched the interaction between the two elves. He knew that Frieren and Millialdai were close, but this "closeness" between elves was expressed in a rigid and straightforward way.

Just then, Flamme walked in from outside, her long orange hair gleaming warmly in the morning light. She glanced at the situation inside, "A few more days of rest and she'll be fine."

Then, her gaze shifted to Lowell, her azure eyes deep and unfathomable. "Your Excellency is quite meticulous." She was referring to the watch.

"I'm used to it." Lowell put down his water glass, walked over to Flamme, and, remembering something, said, "By the way, Flamme, I remember a saying that you mages often say, right? 'Magic is the world of imagination.'"

Flamme raised an eyebrow slightly, seemingly surprised, but still nodded. "Yes. That's right. The formation of magic is rooted in the precision and strength of the spellcaster's mental image. The grander the spell, the more it needs an indestructible imagination as its framework. So, as a Demons, you are also interested in the principles of Human race magic?"

"Yes, it was just a sudden thought." Lowell felt reassured after receiving confirmation. "Thanks for the guidance."

After he finished speaking, he turned around and walked to a slightly open flat area outside the house, about ten steps away from the house, so as not to disturb the wounded with his magic.

Flamme watched his retreating figure, a barely perceptible hint of inquiry flashed in her eyes.

Lowell stopped and slowly began to try to mobilize the unfathomable magic power within his body. He recalled some cool skills from distant memories, especially the signature ability of a certain skeleton mage.

"First, let's start with something simple," he muttered to himself, as if reciting a menu, "Flight."

Magic flowed through him, his body felt slightly lighter, his feet lifted an inch off the ground before landing. "Hmm, but I already knew how to do that."

"Advanced Enhancement - Arm Strength." Arm muscles slightly tense, brimming with power. Success.

"Advanced Enhancement - Agility." His figure appeared noticeably lighter. Success.

"The Power of the Angel." A holy aura emanated from him. Success.

"Adamantine Body." A metallic glint flashed across his skin. Success.

"Infinite Wall." An invisible Magic Shield takes shape. Success.

"Sense Boost." Hearing and vision instantly became much sharper. Success.

"Time Stop... tsk, that doesn't look like it'll work..."

"Eagle Eye." Vision became clear even at extremely far distances. Success.

"Ability Boost", "Ability Greater Boost", "Death Is the End of All Life", "Greater All-Attribute Enhancement", "Life Essence"

"Sense Concealment", "Flow Acceleration", "Gale Acceleration", "Greater Evasion", "Fortress Defense", "Shining Green Scale", "Blessing of the Magic Caster", "False Information - Life", "Extraordinary Intuition", "Greater Resistance Enhancement", "Indomitable", "Greater Luck",...

As if ordering food, he tried more than thirty enhancement spells in one go. Sometimes the magic flowed smoothly under precise planning, bringing tangible changes; other times it was like a wild horse, only stirring up a faint light before dissipating without a trace.

In the end, more than twenty succeeded, and nearly ten failed.

Lowell felt the fullness brought by the various buffs stacking within him and muttered to himself, "Hmm... the benefits of watching a lot of anime in school are showing; my imagination is still pretty good. It's a pity that even though I can clearly imagine those exaggerated attacks like those in Dragon Ball where they casually destroy planets, my magic power just won't cooperate, and I can't construct spells of that level... Oh well, never mind. If I were Oppenheimer, I wouldn't be able to imagine a nuclear bomb either; why use something with such widespread destructive power?"

He realized that the original owner of this body, "Lorenz," although powerful, was more of a mage, practicing both magic and martial arts, but his main foundation was still in magic. He lacked the space to turn his imagination into reality for this kind of purely physical (?) destructive energy.

"Then... let's try this." Lowell thought of a skill, "Perfect Warrior."

The magic flowed according to a certain "imagination". The next moment, a set of ancient-looking, dark metallic armor with sharp lines that looked like a living thing appeared out of thin air, covering his body perfectly, even his face was covered by the helmet, only revealing a pair of deep pool-like eyes. The armor exuded a heavy aura of physical defense.

Lowell stretched, the armor feeling weightless and not hindering his movements in the slightest.

"Oh? That's actually quite good." He removed his armor and stroked his chin. "Looks like you're going for an invincible build... Your skill set is pretty comprehensive. But if you don't keep moving forward, you fall behind; you can't just rely on your old skills all the time."

He thought lazily, "Tsk, but I don't like fighting... I'm finally out of that position, I don't want to be involved in politics anymore. Hmm, if I have the chance, I'll develop a spell that automatically increases magic power through meditation in my sleep. That way I can get stronger while I sleep, leveling up while AFK is so much easier."

Just then, Flamme's slightly cold voice came from the side. "Are you demonstrating your strength to this frail woman as a show of force?"

Lowell turned his head and saw that Flamme was standing not far away, her orange hair swaying slightly in the morning light, her blue eyes silently watching him.

"Ahem." Lowell removed the remaining buffs from her body and shrugged as if nothing had happened. "How could I dare? It's just that your comment just now, 'Magic is the world of imagination,' really enlightened me, so I'm trying to research the possibilities of some new magic. Is that not allowed? Besides, you're such a frail little woman. Those three Demons might be turning in their graves. Maybe I'll have to Reanimation Jutsu."

Flamme's lips curled into a very faint smile, "I don't quite understand, but can a single sentence really allow you to instantly research so many different kinds of magic with extraordinary effects? If we were to have a deeper conversation, perhaps even forbidden spells that could shake the continent would be born?"

Lowell was taken aback by her words, and helplessly pouted, "Are you this kind of sarcastic person? You're quite different from the mature, composed, and worldly-wise older sister I glimpsed in 'Future Prediction.' You're so good at teasing people."

He does have the ability to "Future Prediction," but he doesn't actually foresee that future; it's just a memory from watching anime. However, for Flamme, it's not much different from Future Prediction.

"'Future Prediction'?" Flamme tilted her head slightly, her orange hair cascading down. "Given your abilities, it's not surprising that you can use this kind of magic. As for your personality and image... a mature and composed older sister, huh, I really don't want to be that. Being mature and composed with too many expectations is exhausting."

She paused, her gaze seemingly casually sweeping over Lowell, her tone still calm, yet tinged with an inscrutable meaning. "Speaking of which, you said yesterday that you were 'tempted by Frieren's body'... Don't you think that compared to that naive young girl, I am more charming?"

Upon hearing this, Lowell couldn't help but chuckle, spreading his hands with a confident tone:

"Come on, are you kidding me? You say you don't want to be some mature older sister, I believe you. But you'd be interested in me? Give me a break. You've dedicated your whole life to magic, and your heart can barely hold anything but magic and that distant ideal. If you were to like someone like me, I'd immediately change my surname to yours and become Fuel. Anyway, almost everyone with 'Fu' in their name is a popular character. I'm a retired, lazy bum who just wants to live a secluded life. I can't get along with a passionate, ambitious person like you who wants to create a new chapter in the history of human magic."

Flamme, the faint smile on her face seeming to deepen slightly, or perhaps it was merely an illusion created by the light and shadow. She did not deny Lowell's assessment of her as someone who had "dedicated her life to magic," but simply spoke softly, her voice like a gentle morning breeze:

"Heh... I really can't fool you. And... you really do know me very well, how far into the future do you see?" She changed the subject, her azure eyes looking into Lowell's, "However, if you're so certain I won't be moved, what makes you think that an elf like Frieren, whose heart is as still as a rock, will definitely fall for you in the future?"

Lowell was taken aback by her question, then, as if he had heard something perfectly natural, he put his hands on his hips, straightened his back, and revealed a bright smile that was a mixture of self-righteousness and shamelessness:

"Why should I? Because I'm shameless! Anyway, we immortal beings have plenty of time. If one year isn't enough, then ten; if ten years isn't enough, then a hundred; if a hundred years isn't enough, then a thousand. I have plenty of time to slowly wear her down. I'll just be in front of her Tenten, accompanying her, guarding her. Sincerity can move mountains, and water can wear away stone, you know? Sooner or later she'll get used to me and fall in love with me! Straightforwardness beats tsundere... although she's not exactly tsundere, then straightforwardness beats everything, and pure love warriors are fearless."

His voice carried through the morning air, radiating a self-righteous and shameless arrogance.

After these "bold words" were spoken, there was a moment of silence in the room.

It seems that the elf's long, pointed ears were not merely for decoration.

Millialdai turned her face away, her shoulders trembling almost imperceptibly. Frieren, on the other hand, raised her head, her emerald eyes glancing at Lowell with a calm indifference, her face still expressionless.

Looking at Lowell's "I'm just like this, what can you do about it?" attitude, Flamme finally just shook her head slightly. "It seems that not only is your strength unfathomable, but your shamelessness is probably also at the level of Demon King."