The two partners strolled up the slope of the Shaman Village.
It was built entirely on an incline, with distinct undulations in elevation, the perspective leading from the bottom upwards, pointing directly towards the Scadutree.
The architectural style of the Numen was relatively simple, blending naturally with the environment. Those wooden houses and stone-masonry walls complemented the surrounding trees, seemingly imbued with the scent of ancient agarwood.
It fit the Elven style perfectly. Frieren was quite satisfied with the scenery of the Shaman Village; their aesthetics were aligned.
The Elven race of her childhood, during the time she grew up, also had a similar style. It was at the tail end of the Age of Myths, and only later did they renovate to a style similar to humans.
Now, she could only find the scenery of her childhood in the old districts. In contrast, the home of the Numen seemed forever frozen in that moment of isolation from the world.
Behind this lay the tragedy of a place devoid of people.
A race that resonated with her own reminded Frieren to remain vigilant; the warning of the past was right here.
Melina suddenly couldn't help but gently stroke the porch of a wooden house, murmuring, "I feel an inexplicable familiarity."
"Déjà vu often stems from childhood."
"I seem never to have been to the Shaman Village, yet it feels like I've been here many times. Is it Mother's power influencing me? Or did I come here or get close to it when I had no memories?"
"It is indeed possible you were here before the Land of Shadow was sealed."
According to the combined maps of both sides, this place was actually not that far from Leyndell, Royal Capital, bordering the Mountaintops of the Giants.
What ruined the scenery was that the porch she touched immediately collapsed, even turning into fine sand, shattered beyond repair. Time flies; the erosion of long years had hollowed them out, leaving nothing but a pile of rotten wood.
Seeing this, Melina shook her head with a look of unbearable sadness.
"It's okay. After the Battle of the Spiral Tower concludes, the treatment for the Numen should be initially resolved. At that time, we can consider returning to the homeland or building new dwellings."
Frieren's words made her feel a bit lighter; the Shaman Village would welcome a new life in the future.
The two continued forward, deliberately slowing their pace as they walked through the center of the flower field. Years of overgrown weeds had erased the paths here, vines covering the traces of bricks and rammed earth, leaving only the most primitive garden landscape.
Although it had experienced tragedy, the "Minor Erdtree" had granted "Grace" to this place.
Looking closely, one would find the weeds growing vigorously and hundreds of flowers in full bloom. This scene, distinct from the rest of the Land of Shadow, was the manifestation of the power of Order.
A gentle Order. At least what Marika left behind was more convincing than Miquella.
The Shaman Village was not large, so in just a few steps, the two arrived at the highlands of the small settlement. From this slope, one could overlook the distance, a gentle breeze lifting a lock of long hair.
The most conspicuous thing was the great tree on the slope, from which emanated a pure and holy magic.
Inside the tree hollow stood a statue of Marika. Compared to the divine effigies popular in the Lands Between, this one possessed a more human charm. There seemed to be a curve at the corner of her mouth, as if she were just a maiden at play.
Seeing this, Melina half-knelt on the ground, then solemnly removed a golden braid from the statue's head. It still radiated a golden aura, maintaining its vitality even after a thousand years.
She turned and pressed it into the hands of Frieren beside her.
Since just now, Frieren had lowered her presence, seemingly to avoid disturbing the moment, and was slightly stunned to suddenly receive a gift.
"You are not an outsider, Frieren. Consider it letting Mother take a look at my Tarnished. Besides, my intuition tells me it is very useful."
The silver-haired girl declined no further, for it was indeed true; the braid was important.
[A braid of golden hair, cut loose. Queen Marika's offering to the Grandmother.]
[Boosts holy damage negation by the utmost.]
[What was her prayer? Her wish? Her confession? There is no one left to answer.]
[What is certain is that after that, she would never return to her home.]
A trace of sorrow flowed within the ancient, vast magic. Even across the ages, Frieren felt it clearly. There was nostalgia, regret, and reluctance to part, but ultimately, a decisive farewell.
Marika was pitiable. The traces the Eternal Goddess of the Lands Between left in the Shaman Village were merely those of an emotional girl, forced by the drive of the times and her own courage to change the future.
But how much emotion was ground away by the strife on the road to godhood?
"The Shaman Village is my place of heartbreak—Mother must have thought that, so she would never return."
"The only one who could return was the army of her trusted son, bearing orders to destroy it all."
Melina pressed her palms together, her eyes cast down. She prayed silently.
What was even more desolate was that after so many years, even Marika had gone silent, her life or death unknown. The suffering belonging to the Numen seemed far from over; walking out of the Shaman Village still carried a curse...
Putting herself in those shoes, Frieren sympathized greatly. If the Elf Village were destroyed, she would absolutely never return home either.
Even the best childhood would have its brilliance overshadowed by a place of heartbreak.
Perhaps part of Marika's paranoia stemmed from the psychological shadow brought by the Numen. She had to control everything to feel secure, and was sensitive to any potential hostile factors.
The personality of the ruler of the Lands Between naturally influenced the course of the world deeply. The several games of strategy initiated by the Eternal Goddess, and even the shattering of the "Elden Ring", revealed a sense of decisive resistance.
This was courage derived from the past. So be it.
At least Marika's humanity was blazing, unlike Miquella, who was so utterly heartless and devoid of righteousness.
Frieren carefully put away the braid. One look told her it provided the highest tier of holy damage negation, which would be very useful for the battles to come.
After all, the methods of the gods in the Lands Between were basically of the Holy attribute.
"...Say, is Mother truly dead? Was the mission she issued to me really the last communication?"
An inexplicable hostility rose in her heart. Following her intuition—perhaps the guidance of blood, or fate at work—the clues aimed at the faction of the "Finger". The so-called envoys of the "Greater Will" needed to be expelled.
"...Also, I'll tell you one thing: Just now, I prayed to Mother, hoping she would bless us being together, even if it might shake the mission."
"She couldn't object anyway," Frieren couldn't help but quip at this strange declaration.
A glint of a smile flashed deep in Melina's eyes. She immediately took the silver-haired girl's left hand without explanation, gently stroking the Spectral Steed Ring on the middle finger.
"At this point, what is there to say about approval or disapproval? The symbol of the beast choosing the King is the greatest recognition; this is the tradition of the Lands Between. It also represents my vow, and witnesses my vow at this moment."
Suddenly, she lifted this hand to her lips, lowered her head, and gave it a gentle peck.
Because Melina buried her head deeply, Frieren's gaze couldn't see past the tips of her hair; she only felt a soft sensation on her fingers.
It was as if an electric current traveled to the depths of her soul.
The other party's sudden initiative left her at a loss, even causing a moment of panic. She rubbed her fist with her other hand before calming down.
What a wondrous experience; she hadn't expected Melina to be so direct. She couldn't just stand there waiting either.
"I will help you find Marika. We shall witness the complete "Elden Ring" together."
"No need to reiterate. I know you have always been working hard. I am just promising you: Frieren, I will not sacrifice myself for the mission. I want to witness the throne with you."
Only at this moment did she summon the courage, and right in front of Marika's statue.
How easy is it to give up? But Frieren changed Melina.
In the past, it was she herself who couldn't truly integrate into the world. Now, was she stirred to selfishness by the bond with the Tarnished? Was this right?
Only this time, Melina wanted to decide based on her own preferences. No matter what choice was made, the Lord of Cinder would be there to catch her fall. From beginning to end, Frieren had displayed this stance.
"Didn't we agree before that you would tell me about your past adventures?"
The curious words sent the silver-haired girl into deep thought. It wasn't that she was unwilling to tell, but it was too long, and she didn't know where to start.
Spanning eons, linking the fire three times, the journey was magnificent and turbulent. The earlier timeline had Oolacile; the later timeline had the omens of the Age of the Deep Sea. For a moment, she couldn't find an entry point.
But Melina looked expectant, determined to exchange heartfelt confidences here. Perhaps she felt some unease from never understanding Frieren.
Few people in the entire Lands Between knew the past of the Lord of Cinder, or perhaps they didn't care, knowing only that she was a King from outside the Lands Between summoned here. Experienced, skilled, and full of imposing spirit, sufficient to shoulder great responsibility.
However, those who truly cared would never be satisfied with just this information. They wanted to understand her thoughts, why she adventured, the origins of her various habits, and so on.
"That was an age when the fire was fading. I opened my eyes to find myself a hollow, imprisoned within the cage of the Undead Asylum..."
Melina leaned against the silver-haired girl, listening silently, letting time slip away.
Suddenly, Melina murmured in a daze. At this point, she could no longer comfort herself.
Marika, with no news for so many years, must have met with misfortune; the odds were grim.
"A true god does not fall so easily. We will definitely find her. If she's alive, I want to see the person; if she's dead, I want to see the corpse."
Unfortunately, Frieren's words didn't make Melina feel any better. The former had to take a deep breath, kneel before the statue, bow slightly in the prayer etiquette of the Lands Between, and say in a deep voice, "Your Majesty Marika, please bless your daughter Melina. And take care of yourself, too."
"It should be 'bless us'. We share honor and disgrace together."
After speaking, Melina leaned on her, resting her head on her shoulder. For the first time, she let Frieren feel her fragile, sorrowful side. The ever-steadfast maiden revealed her true feelings, worrying for her kin.
Fate was ill-starred. She never expected the Shaman Village to offer not a haven for the soul, but a desolation that struck the eyes and wounded the heart.
In an instant, Melina understood why "Messmer the Impaler" was unwilling to venture deep inside, for it was inevitable to think of Mother's safety. Have we been separated by life and death?
What should become of the fate of the Lands Between? Can the billions of living beings still receive "Grace" and be saved?
Fortunately, she had Frieren to share the burden. The true haven for the soul had always been this person.
Since she was being used as a support, she should probably be a more comfortable chair, right?
With this thought, Frieren held herself flat and level, her back straight. In a posture like meditative cultivation, she let Melina lean on her.
However, the other's center of gravity gradually shifted. Did she feel the body was too hard? Or was it...
"Mother, don't actually be as stiff as wood. You should hug the maiden now."
The voice of the "Mimic Tear" sounded in her mind.
Hearing this, Frieren silently extended an arm and embraced Melina's shoulder. The latter indeed leaned back in again, pouring her entire center of gravity over.
She hurriedly braced herself with her other hand to avoid losing balance.
Just like that, the two were in zero-distance contact, able to hear each other's heartbeats. Their breaths mingled, and their body scents wafted over.
The two thought the same thing; they hadn't expected the other to be so soft and warm.
After all, neither was a pure warrior; both leaned towards a dexterity style, so there was no rugged hardness, as long as they didn't specifically tense up.
Thus, Melina leaned even more comfortably against Frieren.
Brown curly hair and straight silver hair pressed together, indistinguishable, staining each other with their special scents.
"You can rest like this for as long as you want."
"Thank you. If not for you, I probably would have found it hard to move forward amidst these blows long ago..."
"No, you are very strong. Before I came, I had wandered the Lands Between for thousands of years."
"But my life began the moment I met you."
Melina looked directly into the emerald eyes and reminisced, "A person lives not only for themselves but also in the perception of others. Once, no one saw me. I never intersected with anyone, had no social relations. How could that count as living?"
"I am not someone who likes to wander around, deal with people, or actively help others. But being with you urged me to touch all of this."
"Frieren, you seem out of place, carrying the air of an outsider, but you actually understand 'do as the Romans do' better than anyone."
"I often feel like a wandering soul."
"The moment you arrived in the Lands Between, you truly entered this world, and you took me with you along the way."
This emotion transcended any love or hate; bringing a lonely ghost wandering the world into a new world.
In fact, the reason she kept a distance from the Lands Between was also that the decaying scene was regrettable.
But it was okay. Frieren was even reshaping the South, sweeping away accumulated abuses.
She didn't just want to bring you into this world, but to give you a beautiful world. She had personally created the greatest romance in history—at least for Melina, it was so.
This person wouldn't speak words of concern, and her language was even occasionally indifferent. But she possessed extraordinary intuition, integrating support for others into her actions.
It was hard to detect, yet one tangibly received Frieren's gifts.
Shouldn't a ruler properly articulate their bestowal of favors? Truly an unqualified King. And also the strongest King.
"Actually, I don't think the situation is that serious. I can feel a faint touch of divinity within the "Great Rune".
Once, Marika could respond to prayers, right? Now there are still remnants; at least she hasn't completely vanished," Frieren voiced her professional conclusion.
"Moreover, the Golden Lineage would definitely sense it. Trust in the power of the bloodline. If she met with misfortune, you would certainly have perceived it."
After all, this bloodline was heavily blessed and was an important backbone force in the Lands Between. Any disturbance wouldn't escape their attention.
There shouldn't be any fatal injury, just a state of incapacitation.
Melina nodded. After being comforted, she calmed down and thought it over properly; it should be correct.
Rumors said the "Finger" punished the Eternal Goddess who shattered the "Elden Ring". Perhaps parts were exaggerated, but it was worth referencing.
Killing the "Mother of Fingers" first would never be wrong.
_____
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