Chapter 43 — Does Miracle Favor the Weak?
Late at night, thin wisps of smoke curled out of a chimney on a village house roof.
Inside, the golden-haired elf stared fixedly at the pot of bubbling chicken soup, utterly unable to look away.
Beside her, the demon held the ladle like a weapon, watching the elf's every move with suspicion.
«(¬‿¬)»✧ ... (≖_≖'')
"Don't drool, Serie. You've already had five bowls. Isn't that enough?"
"Please. Those five bowls were dinner."
Serie pursed her lips, eyes sparkling, gaze still locked onto the pot like a starving beast.
"And now it's already midnight—
which means it's time for a late-night snack~"
Elias didn't budge.
"Serie, the rest is for Aivis. If you really want more, go ask the silver-haired girl for another chicken."
"Tch…"
Serie turned away decisively and scoffed:
"As if I'd go beg that silver-haired brat. She'll definitely use the chicken as a bargaining chip to make me take her as a disciple."
"And Aivis is off spreading his so-called 'spirit of devotion' again. If he's not back in ten minutes, the chicken soup's no longer his."
Nine minutes and fifty seconds later—
Relying on her elven instincts, Serie began a precise countdown to determine the soup's rightful owner.
"Ten… nine… eight… seven—"
—Creak…
The old, battered front door made a faint sound.
Serie: «(´-ι_-｀)»
"Hmph… Though I sensed a divine-like mana,
I'm sure it was just the wind."
"Three… two… one—"
—THUD!!
Serie: (≖_≖'')
Before the defeated elf's eyes, the exhausted sage pushed open the door.
Aivis removed his deep-blue robe and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Even after I cleaned up the blood with magic, those kids were still too terrified to sleep."
"They said that the moment they closed their eyes, they saw the demon's bloody scythe."
"So I made up a story on the spot—about a four-man team travelling to the Northern Continent to defeat the Demon King. That finally coaxed them to sleep."
Hearing this, Serie exhaled a long, depressed sigh.
"Huuhhh…"
"So now we're not only killing demons—we also have to put children to bed?"
Just as she finished, Aivis didn't reply.
Because he had just smelled something heavenly sweet and savory.
In the very next second—
All of his attention snapped to the pot of chicken soup.
"By the Goddess! That smell—
Is that chicken soup?!"
"Elias! Is this another masterpiece you brought from your so-called past life?!"
"From spicy tofu,
to the divine stink of noodles,
to this fragrant soup…"
Aivis forced his imagination to its limits.
"Elias… your past life's world must have been unimaginably vast!"
Hearing someone genuinely trust in the existence of his "previous life," Elias actually smiled—a rare sight.
"As expected of the great sage.
Even without seeing that world, you can picture it with extraordinary imagination."
"Yes… my homeland had 1.4 billion people,
5,000 years of history,
and eight major cuisines,
each region filled with countless unique dishes."
"This chicken soup, for example—
comes from the place that understands poultry best."
"What you're tasting now—
is merely seven-tenths of the original flavor."
"But even that is already a delicacy of legends."
Aivis couldn't wait—he immediately scooped a full bowl of chicken soup and savored it with a blissful expression.
Meanwhile, beside him…
a pair of resentful golden eyes glared holes into his skull.
«(￢_￢)» ... (◦˙▽˙◦)
"Mmm… seriously…"
The golden-haired elf flopped onto the floor, turned her back to them, and secretly swallowed her saliva.
"Elias, to be honest… our journey only continues because of your cooking."
"Oh?"
Elias smiled faintly.
"To receive praise from Lady Serie… I'm honored beyond words."
"Tch…"
Serie clicked her tongue irritably.
"I'm just stating facts."
"As for your so-called past life, your claims of once being human, and your dream to become human again…"
"Sorry. I don't believe a word of it."
---
Three days later—morning.
With the first crowing of the village roosters, light crept across the horizon.
Ailemira stood in a clearing at the forest edge, her red eyes locked onto a single dried tuft of grass.
She thrust out her right hand—
"Fire Magic!"
"Fire Magic!!"
"Ugh… Fire Magic!!!"
…
The grass remained perfectly intact.
It swayed a little—but that was just from her frantic hand flapping.
Ailemira stared at her hands… and at the magic tome lying open on the ground.
"No… I can't give up…"
"For myself… and for everyone!"
"Fire Magic!!"
---
Sitting on the village steps, Elias lowered his long-distance clairvoyance spell and turned to the other two.
"Serie was right.
That girl truly has no talent."
"Is that surprising, Elias? This much is obvious…"
Serie lay sprawled on the grass, basking in the cool morning breeze with her eyes half-closed.
"The spell I gave her is the most basic fire spell—
the kind novices use to light candles."
"Someone with talent would cast it instinctively.
Someone without talent…"
Her lips curved coldly.
"…ends up like that girl—
giving everything she has, yet unable to ignite even a weed."
Aivis's face tightened.
He couldn't refute her—
not when he was one of the "talented ones."
When he first learned fire magic at age eight, he skimmed the beginner tome and immediately visualized the spell.
And accidentally created a massive firestorm, burning down a whole forest.
He then panicked and modified the beginner water spell into a flood spell to extinguish it.
Aivis sighed.
"But… she still has four days left.
Maybe—if a miracle happens—"
"Hahahahaha!!"
Serie burst out laughing.
"Aivis, miracles are merely the spare change of the strong.
They never fall upon the weak."
"And you—who have created countless miracles—
should know that better than anyone."
Her words cut like knives.
Aivis's beliefs trembled for the first time.
Watching Ailemira fail to ignite even a blade of grass…
His heart wavered.
Four days left.
Will a miracle truly never favor the weak?
---
It didn't.
Four days later, when the trio left the village, that same piece of dry grass still stood tall and untouched.
Ailemira, drenched in sweat, reached out again with trembling hands—
Aivis's face had gone pale—nearly as white as the demon beside him.
"I still… can't accept this…"
"Aivis."
Serie's voice was calm, victorious.
"This is reality."
She smiled smugly, basking in the joy of being right.
Just as they were about to leave the mountain—
ready to forget this trivial episode entirely—
Serie suddenly closed her eyes.
Just now—
Her mana perception detected a faint warmth far behind them.
A flicker.
A spark.
Hmph…
How ridiculous.
Has the miracle finally… arrived?