Two weeks vanished.
The village was rebuilt. The smell of fresh-cut pine and sawdust replaced the stench of ash. But the trauma remained, a shadow in the villagers' eyes that no new roof could fix.
Heiter, between tavern visits, took on the burden of counseling. It was, after all, a priest's job.
Now, only one soul remained to be mended.
The old dwarf.
Zeke walked with him, the morning air crisp. He was... different. He'd been training.
He focused his mind, a new, warm current of mana flowing through him.
[Memory Magic: Heiter].
His mind cleared. His senses sharpened. A holy, calm aura settled over him as a heavy, ornate [Scripture (White)] materialized in his left hand.
[Memory Magic: Heiter (Lv1)]
Cost: 50 MP to activate, 5 MP/min to maintain.Effect: Enter [Heiter State].SPI +3, CHA +3+15 Temp Max MPMP Regen +5/minGrants Temporary Equipment [Scripture] and partial Priest skills.Skills Gained:[Goddess's Protection (Passive)], [Heal], [Purify], [Goddess's Three Lances].
It was a perfectly sustainable transformation. The +5 MP/min regen canceled out the 5 MP/min cost. He could stay in this "Priest" form forever.
He'd earned it. He'd spent the last two weeks getting wasted with Heiter every single night.
Heiter, it turned out, was a lightweight.
Two drinks in, he'd tell stories of Himmel.
Four drinks in, he'd be weeping, slurring regrets. "The sword... Zeke... it was fake. I let him carry a fake. But Himmel... Himmel was real..."*
By the fifth drink, he'd be passed out, and Zeke would carry him back to his room, his mind full of new, raw data.
The cost had been selfish. But the result... Zeke genuinely liked the awkward, guilt-ridden priest.
He would save him from his canon fate.
"Wait, Zeke." Heiter's hand snapped out, grabbing Zeke's shoulder just as he was about to walk headfirst into a tree. "Lost in thought?"
"Ah... thanks." Zeke stepped back. "Just... thinking about alcohol."
"Oh?" Heiter's eyes lit up, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
"Think about it," Zeke said, his face a mask of sudden, serious insight. "Drinking is fun. But drinking damages your body. It shortens your life."
"So..." Zeke leaned in. "The more you drink... the less time you have... to drink."
Heiter stopped.
"The more... I drink... the less I drink?"
The priest's brow furrowed. The logic was slippery. He couldn't find the flaw.
"Then... what should I do?" Heiter asked, his voice desperate. "How can I drink more?"
"By my calculation," Zeke said, "you need to cut your intake by at least two-thirds. That's the only way to have more time to drink."
"Two... thirds?" Heiter looked like he'd just been asked to solo the Demon King.
Zeke sighed. It was never going to be that easy.
Time for the trump card.
"I know how to make two drinks," Zeke said. "From my... 'memories.' One is called Pineapple Beer. The other, Kvass. They taste like alcohol, but they won't kill you. You can use those to replace the two-thirds."
They arrived at their destination: a cliff's edge, overlooking the endless northern forest.
Grandpa Voll sat there, staring at the horizon. His broadsword, still in its simple scabbard, lay beside him. It was scarred by centuries of vigilance.
Three hundred years, he'd guarded this post.
He was a legend.
"Morning, Grandpa Voll!" Heiter called out.
The old dwarf turned, his movements slow, his eyes cloudy. He ignored Heiter.
His gaze locked onto Zeke.
He saw the horns. The demonic aura.
His eyes... cleared.
"Demon..." he growled.
He rose. He picked up his sword.
"This is for..."
In a single, fluid motion, the 300-year-old warrior exploded forward, the broadsword not aiming for Zeke's head, but in a low, scything arc aimed at his legs.
It was a cheap, dirty, and lethally effective attack.
CLANG!
The blade never bit. It slammed into a transparent, shimmering barrier. Heiter's [Protection] magic.
"You okay, Zeke?" Heiter asked, his hand on his scripture.
"I trust you," Zeke replied, unfazed. Heiter had warned him this would happen.
He crouched down, looking at the stunned dwarf.
"Grandpa Voll," he said gently, "It's me. Zeke. The one you fought with."
Voll stared. The rage in his eyes faded, replaced by a vast, swirling confusion. Then... shame.
He dropped his sword.
"Zeke...?" he mumbled, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry... I'm... I'm forgetting so much."
Schlack's attack hadn't just beaten him. It had shattered his mind. His faked senility had become real amnesia.
Frieren and Heiter had a plan.
Voll's mind was broken, the memories scattered. They needed to show him his most precious memories, to stimulate the brain. As he remembered, Heiter would use Goddess Magic to heal and stabilize the connections.
But Frieren's mental magic wasn't refined enough to find the right memories.
So, they'd asked Zeke.
His [Memory Magic], combined with the basic mental magic Frieren had taught him, could form a link...
He'd discovered something incredible.
He could use his magic to read and replicate... other people's memories.
This was the true potential of his S-Rank.
Not just his memories... but theirs.
And if he could read a dwarf's mind...
What about the world itself?