Chapter 30 – The Resolve to Reach Heaven
"Frieren~ time to get up~ The sun's already on your butt~"
Frieren: «(´✘_✘`)»
"Mmm… five more minutes…"
"Hmm? Wait…"
«(⊙ω⊙)»!
"Flamme-sensei!"
With a squeal, Frieren threw herself into Flamme's arms, rubbing her head against her like a spoiled cat.
"It's really you, Flamme-sensei! I thought I was dreaming!"
"All right, all right~ enough of that~" Flamme chuckled indulgently, patting the elf's back.
"Now hurry and get ready. Elias is already downstairs cooking breakfast."
But the moment she said that, Frieren's ears drooped. She slumped back onto the bed, cross-legged, expression utterly lifeless.
«(=_=)»
"Ugh…"
"Flamme-sensei… can you help me get dressed… and comb my hair?"
Flamme crossed her arms and sighed in disbelief.
"Frieren, I've told you this before — if you can't even handle little things like this by yourself, becoming a great mage will only ever be a dream far out of reach."
"But…" Frieren mumbled softly, pouting.
"Elias is always gentle when he wakes me up… he even helps me dress and brush my hair…"
Flamme: (ರ_ರ)
"W–WHAT?!"
Downstairs, Elias was flipping an omelet when his expression froze. Thanks to his Wind Eavesdrop spell, he heard everything.
A twitch ran through his face. Then he simply laughed.
So the little elf was trying to play both sides, huh?
But surely, the ever-rational Flamme wouldn't fall for something that absurd… right?
At that exact moment, Flamme's hand went to her chin. Her eyes narrowed, her brows furrowing in deep, painstakingly serious contemplation — the kind she normally reserved for deciphering ancient grimoires.
Elias… gentle… waking Frieren up… helping her dress… brushing her hair…
She replayed the words in her mind and grimaced.
Did any of those concepts even belong in the same sentence?
Just imagining such a scene made her scalp prickle.
Therefore, by the laws of logic… there could be only one conclusion.
(≖_≖'')
"Frieren," she said slowly, "you made that up, didn't you?"
«(=ω=)»
"…Knew I couldn't fool you, sensei."
Flamme brushed her fringe aside, letting out a wry, meaningful smile.
"To think my own disciple underestimated me… Frieren, your teacher is the strongest mage in the world. If even I can't picture something, then it must be impossible."
"Now quit stalling and get downstairs."
"Fineee…"
Frieren muttered weakly as she dragged herself up.
"I guess Elias was right. No one who'd wake me gently, dress me, and brush my hair… has been born yet."
---
After breakfast, once Frieren had set off for her morning training, Elias leaned back in his chair and finally voiced the question that had been on his mind since the night before.
"So, Flamme — why exactly did you come back now?"
"Vacation," she said flatly. "Is that a crime?"
Her lips curled into what looked like a smile… but the way it trembled betrayed the bitterness behind it.
Elias's gaze softened slightly.
He remembered her expression yesterday — sitting alone on that hill after burying the hamster, the sunset bleeding across her face.
And the words she'd spoken to the boy then — her resolve to reach Heaven.
Elias didn't know exactly what emotion it was that stirred in him, but one thing was certain — something wasn't right.
"…Flamme," he said quietly. "Did something happen on the battlefield?"
For a long moment, Flamme didn't answer. She just froze—eyes unfocused, chest rising and falling in silence. Then, slowly, she exhaled and gave a hollow, bitter laugh.
"…You really are infuriating, Elias."
"Always so thick-headed—except when it comes to other people's pain."
She paused, the corner of her mouth twitching faintly before her voice softened.
"Yes… you're right."
"On the day before I left the battlefield… I lost my last companion."
Her eyes drifted toward the window—toward the distant northern horizon.
"That damned demon general split my comrade in half with a single strike."
"I… lost control. I don't even remember what happened next. I poured out every last drop of my mana, until there was nothing left but his ashes."
"Only his weapon remained—"
Her gaze flicked to the silver skull-handled dagger resting nearby.
"—that cursed blade you saw."
"I see…" Elias murmured.
He had been meaning to ask about that dagger—but he hadn't expected it to carry such a story of vengeance.
And yet, even now, he couldn't feel what she felt.
Before the war even began, when Flamme and her team had passed through his village, Elias had warned her that her companions were… ordinary. Too ordinary.
In his eyes, their deaths had been inevitable—predictable outcomes on the battlefield.
But to Flamme… their deaths meant something else. Something deeper. Something Elias could never quite grasp.
"…So," he said quietly, "you plan to go to Heaven to see your fallen comrades again?"
Flamme gave a small, self-deprecating laugh.
"Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?"
"After everything I've seen… after years on the battlefield, surrounded by death… and I still cling to a childish fantasy about a place no one has ever reached."
Her voice trembled.
"But, Elias…"
She lifted her gaze—eyes glimmering with a fragile smile.
"…I just want to see them one more time."
Elias stared back at her, silent for a long while.
That look in her eyes—he had never seen it before. A strange mixture of strength, sorrow, and yearning that defied words.
Finally, he sighed.
"Fine, Flamme."
"I don't really know how to respond… I don't even fully understand what you're feeling."
"But if you want to stay here for now, I won't stop you."
He leaned back, folding his arms.
"While Frieren's out training, you can help take a few of the villagers' requests. Run some errands. Keep busy."
"…I see."
Flamme's lips curved faintly as she closed her eyes.
"Elias… you really aren't like other demons."
---
"Another new day…"
"Time to give it my all again!"
Frieren sat cross-legged at the center of the ritual circle, the morning mist curling around her like a silvery veil.
She steadied her breathing, focusing her mana. As always, her heart silently wished for a miracle—that the Meteorite Bird would appear again.
But the one who appeared… was someone else entirely.
"Heheheh… we meet again, little one."
That sluggish, teasing voice made Frieren's eyebrow twitch. Rage surged up before she even opened her eyes.
And sure enough—there he was.
That same white-bearded old man who had ruined everything yesterday!
The one who had mocked her out of nowhere, claimed she wasn't "qualified" to speak with him, and then vanished just as abruptly.
Frieren forced herself to breathe evenly, trying to hold her mana steady.
"Grandpa," she said with exaggerated politeness, "if you don't have anything important to say, could you not interrupt my training?"
The old man stroked his beard thoughtfully, frowning as he studied her.
"…Too weak."
"…Still too weak."
"At this rate… it might take you several decades to make progress."
Frieren's jaw clenched.
She had to physically stop herself from leaping up and yanking that ridiculous beard clean off.
"If you're so amazing, old man," she snapped, "why don't you enlighten me, huh?"
The old man simply chuckled, turning his back to her.
"…Too weak," he said again, as if savoring the words.
"Yes, far too weak."
"At least for now… you still lack the qualifications to speak with me."
With that, he tapped his cane against the ground and shuffled away—vanishing between the trees, leaving Frieren staring after him, dumbfounded.
«(ರ_ರ)»
"What's with that creepy old man?!" she shouted.
"What does he even mean, 'not qualified to talk to him'?!"
"He's the one who came to me! I didn't invite him!"
She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples.
"Whatever. At least he's gone now."
She took a deep breath and sat down again, trying to calm herself.
"Please… let him not come back tomorrow."
She hesitated.
"…Actually, no. Let him never come back again. Ever."
She closed her eyes and resumed her training.
But deep down, she knew—fate was rarely that merciful.