The Riegel Region smelled faintly of soot and rain-washed stone. Villagers hurried about with baskets and tools, fixing collapsed roofs and patching holes in walls where claws had clearly torn through wood. The place was lively, but the cracks in the houses told a story of a struggle just days past.
As Frieren and Naru walked into the main square, people's chatter thinned, eyes inevitably drawn to the blonde horned girl trailing beside the elf. Mothers hushed their children, men slowed their steps—but instead of harsh glares or muttered curses, there was only cautious curiosity. No one dared antagonize her, especially with the calm, quiet elf walking right next to her.
Frieren, as always, went straight to the point. "We're looking for a boy named Stark. Have you seen him?"
An old woman leaned on her broom, her face lighting up. "Oh, Stark? A helpful lad, that one! Always carrying heavy things for me, even when I don't ask."
A man stacking barrels nearby chuckled. "He's like a good big brother to the kids around here. They all adore him."
A girl carrying laundry hugged the pile tighter, her cheeks faintly pink. "And he's… handsome too. Don't forget that."
Another voice called out from a porch, laughter in the tone. "Don't forget chill! That boy doesn't fuss about anything—real easy to get along with!"
One after another, voices joined in, the villagers speaking with a kind of pride, their tone overflowing with gratitude.
Naru listened, her usual blank face twitching into the faintest smile, her ribbons swaying as she nodded. "He saved this place?" she asked.
"Aye!" said a middle-aged man with soot still smeared on his cheeks. "When that dragon came down on us, tearing through houses, it was Stark who stepped forward. Swung that big axe of his right at it. Didn't kill the beast, but scared it good enough it bolted for the mountains."
Naru's eyes glimmered just slightly. She pictured a tall, broad-shouldered boy with muscles thick as tree trunks, an axe resting against one burly shoulder, his voice deep and steady. She nodded firmly, arms crossed like a satisfied judge. "Hn. A muscular, big-bodied boy… as expected."
Frieren glanced at her sidelong, expression unreadable. "...We'll see."
"Where can we find him?" Frieren asked.
"He's still here, lass," the old woman replied cheerfully. "Outskirts of the village. Lad's been helping us again, making a path through the mountain so we can fetch supplies safer."
"Outskirts," Frieren repeated softly, turning on her heel.
Naru followed, the clack of her shoes steady against the stone road. After a pause, she spoke, her voice a little lighter than usual. "Frieren-sama, Stark-sama seems… reliable."
Frieren's lips curved in a faint, knowing smile. "Yes. He is Eisen's student. So it's natural."
And with that, the two of them walked toward the mountainside, where the sound of steel striking stone began to echo faintly through the breeze.
The Riegel Region was a cacophony of life, but here, at its edge, the lively chatter of townsfolk faded into the crunch of gravel and the cold hiss of mountain wind. The air smelled of dust and pine, and the rhythmic thunk… thunk… thunk of steel on rock carried across the cliffs. It was a sound of purpose, of hard work, and as they rounded a small rise, they saw its source.
A boy was swinging an axe against the base of the mountain wall. He had bright red hair that caught the sunlight like a living flame, a thick red winter coat hugging his slim frame, and black pants dusted with stone chips. His breath puffed white with every swing, but his strikes were steady and precise, showing the discipline of someone trained, even if his body was not the hulking vision Naru had imagined.
Frieren called out softly, her voice carrying easily on the mountain air. "Stark?"
The boy paused mid-swing, the head of his massive axe resting against the stone. He turned, red eyes curious, his face a mix of youthful innocence and quiet vigilance. "Yeah?"
Naru, standing beside Frieren, blinked. Her ribbons twitched once, her stoic face trembling with a visible crack of disappointment. Where were the muscles? The heroic bulk? The towering frame that matched the villagers' praises? Instead, she saw an ordinary-looking boy, lanky, almost childish, with none of the imposing presence she had expected. "...Naru's imagination was betrayed," she muttered flatly under her breath, a tiny, almost imperceptible pout forming on her lips.
But then Stark's eyes fell on her horns. His body stiffened like a bowstring pulled taut, his easygoing expression instantly replaced by a sharp, palpable fear. In a heartbeat, he gripped his axe, pointing its sharp edge toward her, his voice sharp and wary. "You're… a demon."
Naru blinked, utterly calm, then raised one hand and pointed her index finger at herself. "Naru is a demon, dattebayo."
His knuckles whitened around the axe handle. He took a small, cautious step back, his eyes darting between her and Frieren. "What do you want with me?"
"Naru wants Stark-sama," she answered matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural declaration in the world.
His shoulders tensed further, suspicion flashing in his eyes. He misunderstood her completely. "Why… why would a demon want me?"
Naru opened her mouth to answer with perfect seriousness—only for the clearing to be broken by a loud, unmistakable sound.
GROOOOWL.
Her stomach, ungrateful and untamed, betrayed her with a thunderous rumble that echoed off the cliffs.
The silence after was suffocating.
Stark's eyes widened, his face paling to the color of bone. He took a frantic step back, his grip on the axe becoming a white-knuckled death grip. "Y-You…! You're hungry, aren't you?!"
Naru tilted her head, confused. "Eh?"
But Stark had already lunged, swinging his axe upward in a sharp arc, panic thick in his voice. "I won't let you make me your lunch!"
"Eh—?! Why is Stark-sama attacking?!" Naru yelped, eyes wide as she skipped back, her ribbons flopping with each step. The axe cut through where she'd been standing a second earlier, biting deep into stone with a grinding crunch.
"Don't play dumb, demon!" Stark barked, chasing her with another swing. "I know what that stomach growl means!"
"Naru's stomach was only greeting Stark-sama, dattebayo!" she insisted as she darted around him, her shoes kicking up a cloud of dust. He swung again, she twisted aside, then sprinted in wide circles, running laps around the clearing with surprising speed and grace. "Why is Stark-sama running after Naru?!"
"Because you're trying to eat me!"
"Wrong accusation, 'ttebayo!"
Dust clouds rose where Stark's boots slammed into the ground, his breathing growing harsh and ragged as he swung, again and again, always just missing. Naru, still confused, only pouted while dodging, her calm expression starting to crumble into mild panic.
Finally, she dashed in Frieren's direction and skidded to a stop, slipping behind the elf's cloak like a child hiding from scolding parents. She peeked over Frieren's shoulder, her ribbons bouncing nervously. "Frieren-sama, Stark-sama is scary."
"Move aside, elf," Stark demanded, his axe raised. His chest heaved, and his eyes still gleamed with suspicion.
Frieren didn't move. Her calm gaze cut through his panic like a blade. "Why were you attacking my apprentice?"
He blinked, his swing faltering. He looked from Frieren to the whimpering demon girl hiding behind her. "...Apprentice?"
"Yes," Frieren said, her voice cool but firm. "This is Naru. She's learning magic under me."
His axe wavered. "A demon… learning magic… from an elf?" His brows furrowed, confusion breaking through his fear. "Just who are you people?"
Frieren's gaze softened faintly, though her tone stayed flat. "I am Frieren. Eisen's companion. Your mentor's friend. And this girl—" she rested a hand on Naru's head, the horns brushing her palm "—was found by Heiter. She is unique, and harmless."
Naru straightened, putting her hands on her hips, and nodded sagely like an elder confirming a great truth. "Naru doesn't bite, 'ttebayo." She even parted her lips to show her small, ordinary human teeth with exaggerated seriousness.
Stark's arms slackened. The axe lowered an inch. Then another. His shoulders slumped, and he let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.
"...oh," he muttered, the tension completely draining from him.
The mountain wind whistled, carrying away the tension and the lingering smell of fear.