"You want to learn archery?"
The elderly bishop wearing glasses—Lord Heiter—looked down at me as he asked. I nodded quietly.
Priest Heiter. Once, alongside the Hero Himmel, he had journeyed as a member of the hero's party to the Demon King's castle. In the end, they defeated the Demon King and brought peace to this world. One of the great heroes of that age.
At the time, I did not truly understand how extraordinary it was to be speaking face-to-face with someone like him.
I lost my homeland in the war.
Barely escaping with my life, I slipped through inspections into the Central Nations, and now I am under the protection of the church here in the Holy Capital of Strahl. Many others who lost their homes in the war of the Southern Nations are also sheltered here, earning what little they can through work introduced by the church.
The adults around me cast sympathetic glances my way. They must think that at my age, losing my homeland must be unbearably sad. That I must feel lonely.
…And they are right.
Even so, I believe I am fortunate.
Yes, I lost my homeland.
I lost many friends.
I saw enough blood to make death feel close.
But my family is alive.
Papa and Mama—and I—we are still alive.
Because that person saved us.
"However… this is troubling."
Lord Heiter looked away, scratching his cheek with his index finger, smiling awkwardly.
"To begin with, I don't have any acquaintances who are archer warriors. If we were in the northern regions, that might be different… but what to do…"
He explained to me:
Since general offensive magic became widespread, archer warriors had gradually been eliminated.
If one has even a little magical talent, general attack spells are easy to acquire and require no great mastery. Simply point your staff and activate the spell—and your opponent can be slain.
Compared to that, a bow requires drawing an arrow, nocking it, pulling the string taut—only after all those steps can one release a single shot. It is far too inefficient. Moreover, it demands a warrior's physical strength and refined skill to draw and aim.
True, it consumes no mana, so it cannot be detected by magical sensing. In terms of ambush or assassination, it surpasses general attack magic. Even so, the difference in convenience is like heaven and earth.
Furthermore, as one's control over mana improves, general attack magic can be curved mid-flight. A single caster can even unleash saturation attacks.
Unless one belonged to the Empire's "Shadow Warriors," as Lord Heiter mentioned, bows would likely never again see widespread use.
Still, he added, as a weapon that applies a warrior's reaction speed to long-range combat, a truly masterful archer might even fire faster than Zoltraak.
—Just like that person.
"There have been famous archer warriors in the distant past, but all of them lived long ago. These days, you never hear of one making a name for themselves."
"…That isn't true."
Before I knew it, I had denied his words.
Because I saw it.
When countless murderous mages aimed the light of their general attack spells at my family… that person's arrow reached them faster.
The small back holding the white bow is still burned into my eyes.
"If that is so, then the warrior who saved you, Fern, must have fought without ever appearing on the public stage. The fact that you were able to glimpse them, even for a moment… was it coincidence? Or perhaps… talent?"
Lord Heiter stared at me with keen interest.
"Fern, let's speak with your parents first."
He crouched down to meet my eyes and gently placed his hands on my shoulders.
"Unfortunately, I cannot teach you the bow myself, nor do I have connections with an archer who could. However, you possess the same eyes as that archer… and above all, you have talent as a mage."
"—!"
"Though I cannot spare much time due to my duties as bishop… I can at least teach you something akin to the magic of the mage who once traveled with me."
"Ideally, it would be best if she came here herself," he added with a troubled smile.
"Frieren can be quite troublesome. She's probably off somewhere searching for grimoires or spells… or perhaps being eaten by a mimic in some dungeon right about now."
He laughed nostalgically.
But I could not tell whether he was joking.
Being eaten by a mimic?
Could a mage who defeated the Demon King truly fall for such a thing?
"Now then, it's late. Return to your room. Your parents should be back soon. We'll discuss it together when they arrive."
"…Yes!"
"…Never appearing on the public stage, you say. How tiresome.
—It reminds me of that time, whether I like it or not."
The words Lord Heiter murmured as I left never reached my ears.
◇
"So that's what he said. Papa, Mama—what do you think?"
"…What do we think, huh?"
"Well…"
We sat at the dinner table in our temporary refugee housing within the church grounds. During the meal, their daughter—not even ten years old—had suddenly brought this up, leaving them bewildered.
"First of all, Fern, why do you want to learn magic from Lord Heiter?"
"So I can live on my own."
"On your own? Fern, are you planning to leave us!?"
Mama asked anxiously. I shook my head.
"…I have no intention of leaving you. But when I grow up, I want to go on a long journey for a while."
"For what purpose?"
"…That is…"
I fidgeted under the table.
I was only five years old.
"That's not allowed, Fern!!"
Papa suddenly stood and shouted. Mama and I both flinched.
"She's frightened, dear!!"
"I still have to say it!! Because… because…"
He slammed his hand on the table, leaning forward with a terrifying expression I had never seen before.
"But… but…"
And then his voice shrank, and he began crying into his arm.
"At your age… setting out on a journey to chase after a man… I absolutely forbid it…!"
"…."
Silence.
Mama stared at him in exasperation. I had clearly said "when I grow up." Yet here he was racing ahead on his own.
"S-sorry… Let's get back on topic. It's not even confirmed it was a man. Hahaha…"
As Papa forced an awkward laugh, my thoughts drifted again to the archer who saved us. I had never even considered whether that person was male or female.
That, too, was something I wanted to know.
"…That's why I want to travel."
"So, Fern," Mama asked gently, "why did you suddenly start talking about traveling?"
"…Do you remember? The one who saved us…"
Their faces turned serious at once.
"Yes, I remember. Honestly, even now… it's hard to believe."
"If that arrow hadn't come… Papa, I, and you, Fern—we wouldn't be here."
"It feels unreal. Maybe because we finally have a peaceful life, even if it's temporary… maybe we want to forget."
They understood. They were grateful.
But it had been too unreal.
The arrows had struck the mages' heads with impossible precision. They did not come from a single direction—sometimes they fell straight from above, perfectly calculated to lose no power and descend at exactly the right angle.
It was undoubtedly meant to save us.
And yet, the more they thought about it, the more it felt less like human aid and more like a natural disaster that just happened to favor us.
"We looked around afterward… but there was no one."
"At least I wanted to thank them. If they saved us, couldn't they have shown their face? Maybe that's why it still doesn't feel real…"
Watching them, I became certain.
They wanted to meet that person too.
"…Actually," I said softly, "I saw them."
"…What?"
"You saw—wait, you don't mean—"
Ignoring their astonishment, I continued.
"When Papa and Mama were holding me back then… through the gap between them, I saw—far away, on top of an old stone platform—that person with the white bow. I saw their back."
"…Um, Fern?"
Her mother asked cautiously. Fern tilted her head. "Yes?"
"Well… I don't think there was any kind of platform there at the time… Where exactly was it?"
"It was buried deep in the forest on a distant mountain. A stone platform that was almost impossible to see. And it was very, very far away."
"─────"
The two of them were speechless.
A distance and location that even they—and the mages present—had failed to notice.
And yet their daughter had perceived a figure hiding there.
"Though I only saw it for a moment. Just their back as they leapt down from the platform, and the white bow… Is something wrong?"
"N-no…"
"It's nothing."
—Terrifying, even though she's our own daughter.
Though they knew it wasn't the kind of thought parents should have about their child, they couldn't help but think that of Fern's frighteningly sharp perception.
"I told Lord Heiter it was just coincidence that I saw them… but he said that perhaps I have talent."
Indeed, they thought. They could easily imagine the words Bishop Heiter must have spoken. He had already told them before that Fern possessed talent as a mage.
And now, combined with those eyes of hers—
Even amateurs like them could understand that she was someone they would never want as an enemy.
"Lord Heiter said that if Papa and Mama permit it, he will teach me magic. I want to learn from him… and then go on a journey."
Having steeled herself, Fern looked straight into her parents' eyes.
"…And I want to find that person and thank them. To say thank you for saving us. Because you saved us, Papa and Mama and I… we're able to be together like this."
"…Fern."
Her mother looked at her with emotion swelling in her eyes.
They knew it should be the parents' role to do what Fern was saying. But they had no room in their lives for that now.
Their guardian, Heiter, was already old. They didn't know how long he could continue as bishop.
In such circumstances, there was no way they could afford to search for a benefactor whose face they didn't even know.
"When I find them… I want to bring them to you too. I don't know what we should do besides thanking them… but I want us all to talk together."
"…Hey, Fern."
It was her father who spoke hesitantly. Anxiety crept into his expression again, and her mother shot him a wary glance.
"I was just thinking… The way you're talking right now—it's exactly like a daughter who's found her destined beloved and wants to introduce him to her parents—"
"Dear?"
"…I'm sorry."
At his wife's low, threatening tone, he immediately shrank and apologized.
The familiar scene made Fern giggle.
She really did love her parents.
"Honestly, you always jump to that conclusion."
"What can I do? Fern is the cutest daughter in the Southern Nations—no, in the entire world. Even if he's our benefactor, I'm not handing her over to some unknown man."
"We don't even know if they were a man. And even if they were, they're probably much older. It doesn't mean it would turn into that kind of relationship."
"Well, that's true, but…"
Her mother sighed at her still-grumbling husband.
Then both of them turned back to Fern at the same time, their expressions serious once more.
"Alright, Fern. To be honest, as your father, I don't want you to leave. Like I said earlier… more than anything, I'd be worried sick sending my precious daughter off alone on a journey."
Fern lowered her shoulders. She had expected that.
"I feel the same," her mother added softly. "If we sent you off traveling and something happened to you, I would regret not stopping you for the rest of my life."
"…Yes. I understand."
Fern did not argue.
"…But," her mother sighed, "you are our pride and joy. Lord Heiter is probably right. You'll become a fine mage."
"Mom?"
"So here's what we'll do."
Raising her index finger, her mother smiled.
"For now, we'll allow you to learn magic from Lord Heiter. We'll bow our heads to him ourselves, so you focus on learning."
"—Then—!"
"But!"
Fern's eyes lit up, only to be halted by her mother's raised voice.
"Going on a journey is a separate matter. When you've grown into a fully fledged mage, we'll ask you again."
"Ask me what?"
"It's possible that wanting to travel is just a passing resolve. So we'll wait. If, when you've grown up, your desire to travel hasn't changed… then your father and I will accept it."
"Ah—so, then…"
Though her mother spoke in a roundabout way, it was essentially approval. Fern looked to her father.
He smiled wryly.
"Well, we want to thank that person too. Like your mother said—if, when you're older, you still wish to travel… will you let us ask that of you, Fern?"
"Yes!!"
With her father's consent as well, Fern's quiet demeanor vanished, replaced by a radiant smile she hadn't shown in a long time.
"Papa! Mama! Thank you!"
Her childlike, innocent grin stunned them.
Since the war, Fern had rarely smiled. Occasionally she would give a faint little smile—but never one so bright and carefree.
She had grown quiet. Influenced by Heiter, even her speech had become more polite.
After a moment of stunned silence, her mother sighed in surrender, walked over, and lifted Fern into her arms.
"Um, Mom, you're very close."
"Nope. You might go off on a journey someday and be far away for a while. So I'm going to spoil you as much as I can now."
"Honestly, Mom…"
Though she protested verbally, Fern didn't resist the warmth of her mother's embrace.
"Hahaha! Then Papa won't lose either!"
Revived, her father came over and gently stroked her head and cheeks.
"Mm… mmmmmm~♪"
Unable to resist the comfort, Fern smiled blissfully as she accepted her parents' love.
A scene that should never have been possible.
And yet, because of the intervention of a certain outsider, this precious moment continued to exist.
◇
"Are you certain, Lord Heiter? Ever since we were taken in as refugees here in the Holy Capital of Strahl, you've done nothing but help us."
"It's quite alright. After all, I was the one who suggested it."
Invited into Heiter's private room, Fern's parents sat across from him, discussing their daughter's future.
"As it happens, I will soon be stepping down as bishop. The exact timing isn't set, but once that happens, I'll have far too much time on my hands."
"Y-you're resigning!?"
Her father stood abruptly.
Her mother restrained him but turned anxiously back to Heiter. "Is that true?"
"Please don't worry. The next bishop has already been briefed on supporting the refugees. I can retire at any time."
"I see…"
Her father sat back down weakly, ashamed of the selfish fear that had momentarily crossed his mind.
"Hahaha! Now I can drink as much as I like—well… I've actually quit drinking. So I truly will have nothing to do."
They laughed with him, understanding he was easing the mood.
"I'm old, you see. Before I go to the Goddess, I'd like to leave behind at least one thing. Teaching Fern magic… is perhaps just the selfishness of an old man."
"Old—please don't say such ominous things."
He merely smiled.
He was one of the heroes who had reached the Demon King's castle and defeated the Demon King. Surely that was enough to leave behind. Yet he still wished for more.
"What I mean to say is—please entrust Fern to me. I'm not a professional mage, so I don't know how much I can teach her. But I do intend to ask an acquaintance of mine—a proper mage—for help eventually. Fortunately, I have such connections."
"…Understood. Lord Heiter, we entrust Fern to you."
They bowed deeply. Heiter accepted with a smile.
◇
From then on, while Heiter remained bishop, Fern worked at the church as a helper, learning magic during spare moments.
After he resigned, it was arranged that she would visit his home on the outskirts of Strahl to continue her lessons. Her parents agreed.
One evening, as she swept the church grounds with a broom, wearing her small nun's habit, Fern hummed happily.
She was content.
Helping at the church. Supporting her family. Listening to Heiter's stories of his journey with the hero's party.
He was like a second father to her.
After work, she would return home to warm family dinners. Sometimes Heiter joined them.
They were happy.
And so was Heiter.
But then—
Another turning point came.
The church gate creaked open.
It was a common sound.
But this time, it was strangely heavy.
No matter how weak the person opening it, it shouldn't have sounded like that.
Suspicious, Fern stopped sweeping and turned.
There, silhouetted against the setting sun, stood a single figure.
"…May I ask who you are?"
Backlit, she could only see the outline.
But it was distinctive.
Long, pointed ears.
—An elf?
A race said to exist only in legend. Few remained, and encounters were rare.
But the next moment—
"──────!!!??"
The elf staggered toward her.
And as the light revealed her—
Fern froze.
Her entire body was soaked in blood. Scrapes and cuts covered her skin; in some places, the flesh was torn away entirely.
Worse still—
Her right arm was gone.
Severed. The mangled stump assaulted Fern's vision.
And worst of all—
From a deep wound in her side, black miasma spread outward.
A curse.
It had already consumed nearly half her body.
Like a ghoul, the elf staggered forward, then collapsed to her knees.
"Are you alright!?"
Fern rushed forward.
These were fatal wounds. Only the vitality of a long-lived race could possibly sustain her.
All that mattered was saving her.
But just as Fern reached her—
The elf thrust out her left hand to stop her.
"…Don't… come closer."
"Wh—?"
"The curse… might… spread…"
The silver-haired elf spoke in broken breaths.
"Quickly… call… Heiter… He's… here… right…?"
"No—stay with me! Lord Heiter! Lord Heiter!!"
Fern's scream echoed across the grounds.
Hearing it, Heiter hurried out of the church—
And upon seeing the unconscious elf beside Fern—
His former companion—
He froze.