Chapter 28 – The Archmage Who Returned from the Battlefield
The café's chatter stilled the moment a cloaked traveler stepped through the door.
When the figure pulled back her hood, a cascade of bright orange hair spilled into the sunlight—instantly drawing the eyes of everyone present.
"Wait… that hair color—could she be the Archmage Flamme?!"
"The one who slew more demons on the northern front than anyone else?!"
"She's even more beautiful than the rumors said…"
"If she's back near the capital, then maybe… maybe the war up north is finally turning in our favor."
Flamme ignored the whispers. She walked past the crowd without a sound, each step calm, deliberate—until she stopped right between Elias and the trembling boy clutching the small wooden box.
Her eyes, sharp as ever, locked on the demon sitting at the table.
Elias tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Flamme. It's been, what—fifty years? I was expecting something warmer for our reunion. A hug, maybe? Or at least a handshake?"
Flamme said nothing. Her gaze didn't soften, nor did she blink. The air between them was electric—cold, tense, and heavy with restrained hostility.
Then, without a word, she reached out and gently placed her hand on the boy's head.
Her voice, when she finally spoke, was calm and kind.
"Child," she said softly, "don't listen to this strange old man."
"Come. Bring your little friend. I'll help you."
The boy sniffled, wiping his eyes, and let her take his hand. Together, they walked out of the café, sunlight gleaming off her hair like fire.
Elias watched them go, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
"...Tch."
So that's how it is, huh?
No greeting. No acknowledgment. Not even a glance.
The great Archmage Flamme—his old comrade—had returned from the battlefield only to walk right past him, smiling at a stranger's child as though she'd forgotten the rest of the world.
A small, bitter chuckle escaped his lips.
"Fine," he muttered under his breath. "Let's see it, then."
He stood, tossing a few coins onto the table, his cloak rustling as he turned toward the door.
"Even if you're the great Flamme—the hero who's slain thousands—you can't bring back the dead."
His eyes narrowed, glinting like steel.
Or have you forgotten what even gods couldn't do?
Without another thought, he followed them.
–––
At the edge of the village, on a grassy hill crowned by an enormous ancient tree that had stood since before the village's founding, Flamme stopped.
The setting sun bathed everything in a soft, fading gold.
The boy stood beside her, still clutching the box that held his tiny friend.
"Here will do," Flamme said quietly.
The child looked up at her, uncertain. "Miss… you're really going to help Saori?"
Flamme smiled faintly. "I'll do what I can. But first, you must understand something."
Behind them, hidden in the shade of the trees, Elias folded his arms and watched silently—his expression unreadable as the light dimmed and the air turned heavy with mana.
Bathed in the soft gold of dusk, Flamme rested a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder and asked,
"What's your name, child?"
"Henry," the boy replied, voice small but steady.
"Henry," she repeated kindly, "have you ever heard of the place called Heaven?"
Henry shook his head.
"I see…" Flamme's lips curved into a quiet smile.
"They say that at the farthest reaches of the northern continent, beyond the last mountain and the final frost, lies the land of eternal rest — the Land Where Souls Rest."
"When living beings die, their souls journey there… to find peace at last."
Henry frowned, confused.
"But Lord Elias said… life is life, and death is death."
"Is that so?" Flamme's tone softened. She drew from her robe a silver pendant glinting faintly in the sun.
"Do you see this?" she asked. "It's called the Holy Emblem of Holy Wand Court— a mark only granted to first-class mages. Elias, for all his pride, is merely second-rate."
"Then…" Henry's eyes widened as he clutched the wooden box in his arms.
"Then what about Saori? She's not human… will she still go to Heaven?"
"She will," Flamme said gently. "All living things have souls. And before the laws of the soul, all life is equal."
Kneeling, she placed both hands tenderly atop the box that held the tiny, still body of the hamster.
"To let Saori's soul reach Heaven, we must give her the same farewell we give to people — a burial."
Henry blinked.
"Like when we buried the old village chief?"
At that, something flickered in Flamme's eyes — a trace of melancholy. She remembered that bald, kindly old man who once mistook her for Elias's wife…
So the old fool's already gone, huh…
"You're right, Henry," she said softly. "The chief should be resting peacefully in Heaven by now."
Henry lowered his gaze to the box and nodded solemnly.
"Okay. I know what to do."
Together, they worked until a small grave stood beneath the ancient tree — a simple stone marker carved with the name Saori.
As the sun dipped lower, Henry tugged lightly at Flamme's hand.
"Miss Flamme… if I travel to the far north, can I see Saori again?"
Flamme smiled faintly, her eyes reflecting the dying light.
"To be honest, I'm not sure. But someday, I'll go there myself — to see if the legends are true."
"Because…" she murmured, her voice lowering,
"…I have my own reasons to go."
Henry's face lit up.
"Then it's a promise! When you come back from Heaven, you have to tell me what it's like!"
The boy made his vow, then ran down the hill toward the village, his small silhouette swallowed by twilight.
Left alone, Flamme sat beneath the ancient tree, the wind gently stirring her hair as she watched the sun melt into the horizon.
"Second-rate mage, huh…" a familiar voice said behind her.
She didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"Flamme," Elias drawled, stepping from the shadows, "you shouldn't tarnish my reputation among the villagers."
"Hmph…" Flamme scoffed without looking back.
"Anyone who tells a child there's no Heaven doesn't have a reputation."
"I was just helping him understand the world," Elias replied calmly, sitting down beside her. "Compared to a Heaven no one's ever seen, my version's a bit easier to believe, don't you think?"
"Spare me the lecture," she sighed, brushing a strand of orange hair from her face. "I didn't come all this way to hear your excuses."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Where's my adorable disciple, hmm? What did you do with Frieren?"
Elias blinked, finally glancing toward the horizon, and his expression changed.
"Now that you mention it…" He rubbed his chin. "The sun's already gone down, and that girl still hasn't come back."
Flamme's stare could have frozen fire.
"Are you serious, Elias?"
"I entrusted my precious student to you, and you let her wander off alone?!"
"And while she's out there, probably half-starved and lost, you're sitting in a café sipping coffee?!"
"It's not what it looks like," Elias said quickly, raising a placating hand. "I sent her out to train — to practice mana suppression."
"Starting from suppression, huh…" Flamme murmured, her tone softening a fraction.
She gave a faint, approving smile.
"Elias, setting aside your… demonic history, you really are a competent teacher."
"Please," Elias said dryly, "don't pretend that's a compliment."
He rose to his feet and extended a hand toward her.
"Come on. Let's go find her."
Flamme blinked at the gesture, caught off guard. For a moment, her hands hovered uncertainly before she averted her gaze and stood up on her own, brushing off her cloak.
"L–Let's just go. You lead."
Head lowered, she started down the hill.
Elias stayed frozen for a moment, staring at his outstretched hand.
"…Damn it."
"Why did I even do that?"
–––
In the forest of the Meteorite Birds, the two finally found Frieren, fast asleep in the center of her training circle.
Elias sighed deeply, pressing a hand to his forehead.
Flamme, however, only smiled, kneeling beside the sleeping elf.
With practiced care, she slipped her arms beneath Frieren and lifted her up — cradling the girl like a sleeping child.
"Every time I see her like this," Flamme whispered, "she looks so peaceful… so adorable."
Elias glanced down at Frieren's drooling face.
«(´✘_✘`)»
"Your definition of 'adorable' is… remarkably unique," he muttered.
Before he could say more, Frieren stirred in Flamme's arms, mumbling in her sleep:
«(=ω=)»
"Mm… soft… warm… smells nice…"
Then she smiled faintly.
"So this is… the legendary Heaven…"
Flamme's lips curved into a tender smile.
Elias could only sigh.
"Yeah," he said dryly. "Welcome to your paradise, Frieren."