Flower Field
Several days passed quietly.
Millialdai's learning ability is beyond doubt; she can already skillfully control the barrier set up by Flamme —after all, she is not learning barrier magic, but simply controlling it when a barrier already exists, just like using a remote control even if you don't know how a television works.
The surviving elves began clearing the ruins and rebuilding their homes; life had to go on.
On the morning of their departure, the sky was just beginning to lighten. The three stood at the village entrance, bidding a brief farewell to Millialdai and several elves who had come to see them off. There were no many words exchanged; the elves' farewells were always subtle and peaceful, a glance, a nod, and everything was contained.
Flamme's long orange hair swayed gently in the morning breeze. Her azure eyes swept over the land still bearing the marks of scorch and sorrow, her tone carrying a hint of barely perceptible pity. "Yes... this place still bears the scars of war."
As she spoke, she slowly raised one hand, her fingertips tracing a simple line in the air. A powerful yet gentle magic rippled outwards from her, Swirl like waves throughout the village and its surroundings.
The next moment, an amazing sight unfolded.
Countless tender green shoots broke through the soil, sprouting branches, unfolding leaves, and forming plump flower buds at a visible speed. Then, Bloom brilliantly in the morning light. The colorful wildflowers, like the most magnificent brocade, instantly covered every inch of land within sight. Even the broken walls and ruins were gently covered and adorned by the supple vines and delicate flowers.
The air was filled with a refreshing blend of floral fragrances, and the land that had been ravaged by war was transformed in the blink of an eye into a vibrant, dreamlike sea of flowers.
"Hmm," Flamme nodded in satisfaction, a faint smile playing on her lips, "It looks much more vibrant this way."
Lowell looked at the flower field that had appeared in an instant, raised an eyebrow, and said nothing. Frieren's emerald eyes reflected the splendor, flickering slightly, as if she found the sight quite pleasing.
The farewell took place amidst the sea of flowers. Millialdai waved gently, her face displaying the serene expression characteristic of the Elven race. The three turned and embarked on their southward journey, leaving behind the newly blossoming flower field and the steadfast elves.
After leaving the village for some distance, Frieren suddenly raised her head, looked at Flamme walking ahead, and said in her usual calm voice:
"Flamme, you're hiding your magic."
Flamme, walking ahead, didn't stop or turn her head. Her voice drifted on the wind, carrying a hint of understanding. "You have a good eye. That's right, I'm concealing my magic power to mislead my opponents, especially Demons who are acutely aware of magic. Once they let their guard down, they can often find an opportunity to defeat me in a simpler and less strenuous way. Although it's... an insult to the greatness of magic, a clever trick." Her tone carried a touch of self-deprecation, yet also revealed a pragmatic calmness.
Frieren blinked, then said, "Really? That magic that made the flowers grow was beautiful."
Upon hearing this, Flamme stopped and turned around, her orange hair gleaming warmly in the sunlight. A slightly mocking smile appeared on her face as she looked at Frieren: "Oh? Want to learn? Call me 'Master,' and I'll teach you."
"Hey!" Lowell immediately chimed in, her face a picture of possessiveness, and placed a hand in front of Frieren to block her. "Don't take it! Frieren is mine! If anyone's going to teach, it's me! You're just a little girl, don't try to take advantage of us or try to act superior!"
Flamme glanced at him with a half-smile, her azure eyes filled with provocation. "Is that so? Lord Lowell, that sounds impressive. Then... do you know 'Flower Field Magic'?"
"Hmph..." Lowell's competitive spirit was ignited. Hands on hips, a smug look on her face, "You were wrong to tell me definitively that 'magic is a world of imagination'! Who do you think I am! Mere Flower Field Magic, watch me do it with a flick of my wrist..."
He took a deep breath, pretended to wave his fingers, and tried to summon magic, imagining a scene of flowers blooming.
However, the magic gathered and flickered at his fingertips a few times, and in the end, only a single, trembling, and solitary foxtail grass sprouted from the ground... a fluffy grass swaying gently in the wind.
Lowell: "..." His smug expression froze instantly.
Frieren silently watched the foxtail grass swaying in the wind, full of tenacious vitality. Her emerald eyes revealed no emotion, but the slight tilt of her head seemed to carry a hint of confusion.
Flamme's ambiguous smile deepened, as if to say, "Just as I thought."
Lowell coughed lightly, trying to save face. "Ahem! A small mistake! I didn't control the accuracy of my magic output well! Anyway!"
He turned to Flamme, adopting a "reasonable" expression. "Judging from our psychological age, our long lifespans, and our future relationship, Frieren and I are definitely of the same generation! I can't be a generation below you! She can't call you master! As for learning magic, you can teach me for free, just consider it making friends. At worst... I'll teach you something too? Like certain characteristics of Demons magic? That should be very helpful for you to analyze Demons magic and research countermeasures, right? Don't worry, you don't need to call me master, it's an equal exchange, how about it?"
Flamme looked at Lowell's expression, a hint of a smile flashing in her eyes, as if she felt the deal was worthwhile.
She nodded. "Alright, it seems like this deal is quite good. So, Frieren, listen carefully, the basic principle of 'Flower Field Magic' is as follows..."
She began to explain in detail, her voice gentle and clear. Frieren listened attentively, her emerald eyes focused intently on Flamme's figure.
Shortly after, Flamme finished speaking and asked, "Do you understand?"
Frieren nodded, replying in her characteristic, factual tone, "Yes. I understand the basic principles. With about a hundred years of practice, I should be able to master it completely."
Upon hearing this, Flamme chuckled softly, her tone carrying a touch of elven nonchalant mockery regarding the passage of time. "Is that so? Then remember, a hundred years from now, make sure my tombstone is surrounded by flowers."
Without any hesitation, Frieren calmly nodded. "Yes."
Listening to this conversation, and watching one calmly book a grave-sweeping service a hundred years from now, and the other calmly agree, Lowell couldn't help but twitch his lips and utter a cryptic remark. "Tsk... how magnanimous."
Flamme glanced at him, said nothing, and turned to continue walking. Frieren followed silently. Lowell shook his head, quickened his pace, and walked alongside them.