The next day.
The sky had barely begun to lighten when Ronan and Frieren were already seated together in one of the rooms, each lost in their own thoughts.
Frieren hadn’t slept particularly well the night before.
First thing in the morning, she’d knocked on Ronan’s door, bringing along the magic tools they’d purchased the day before, eager to start sorting through them.
For Frieren.
The one thing that could genuinely make her happy was, more than anything, discovering rare magical items.
Even if.
She might never actually get to use them.
“Let’s begin.” Frieren’s expression grew focused, her eyes fixed on the moss-covered magic tool in front of her.
She reached out and gently picked one up.
As magic power stirred within it, the moss flaked away bit by bit, gradually revealing a gleaming golden surface underneath.
It was a bell.
She didn’t shake it, since she already knew, without needing to test it, that this was some kind of sound-based magic tool.
She still had no idea what it actually did, and if it turned out to be lethal in some way, that could be a real problem.
She set the bell down gently on the floor and reached for the second item.
On the other side, though Ronan was encountering this kind of thing for the first time, he followed Frieren’s lead, doing much the same.
Before long, a golden bell—a large one this time—appeared before him.
Seeing the golden bell alongside the earlier golden hand bell, Ronan couldn’t help but furrow his brow slightly.
He had to admit, the color scheme was undeniably tacky, though in this era, it seemed to be perfectly normal.
Set it down, move on—it felt a bit like scratching off a lottery ticket.
The third item was a hollow wooden staff inlaid with gemstones.
Since wood itself wasn’t particularly resistant to decay, even if it happened to be a special kind of wood, after thirteen hundred years of wear, it had rotted into an unrecognizable state.
Once cleared away, all that remained usable was the gemstone.
Frieren examined it for a moment, then handed it over to Ronan.
“Here, take this one.
It’s an essential component for crafting a wand.” “If I remember right, you don’t have a wand of your own.
I’m not sure if you need one, but a gem of this quality for channeling magic power is genuinely rare.” “It could save you about a thousand gold coins.” “If you sold it…” “Well, that works too…
but I doubt you’re short on money.” Indeed, after spending these past few days together, Ronan had picked up a fair bit of knowledge about wands.
A wand, when you got down to it, was really just a stick.
Though the stick itself mattered—certain special woods could channel magic power—it was nowhere near as important as the gemstone bound to it.
A gemstone of excellent quality could reduce magic power loss by over ninety percent.
Frieren didn’t own one herself, since they were far too expensive; in the entire village, only the chief possessed one.
But even the gemstone the chief owned could only cut losses by around thirty percent or so.
By comparison, the gemstone in Ronan’s hand could cut it by roughly seventy percent.
The gap was obvious.
Ronan looked up: “You’re giving this to me?
Are you serious?
Don’t you need it yourself?
Don’t forget, I gave you all of this in the first place.” “I haven’t forgotten, but this thing is far too expensive.” Frieren shook her head.
She knew her own limits well enough.
Spending six thousand gold coins on a pile of magic tools with unknown effects could be considered a kind of investment—not unlike buying a lottery ticket.
But if it turned out to be a winning ticket, the prize had to be split evenly, or she genuinely wouldn’t be able to live with herself.
Seeing this, Ronan understood that Frieren had her own line she wasn’t willing to cross, and let her have her way.
He accepted the gemstone, though privately, he thought to himself that it was completely useless to him.
With Infinite Mana at his disposal, did reducing magic power loss even matter?
He’d have someone process it properly one of these days and send it back to her—consider it an investment in goodwill.
Sometimes, treating this world a bit like a game wasn’t such a bad approach after all.
His thoughts drifted, and as time passed, the magic tools revealed their true forms one after another.
By the time the sky had fully brightened, they’d finally finished.
After careful calculation, Ronan determined that among the batch, two tools were damaged beyond use, twenty were in perfect condition, and three were worn but usable.
In total, they’d purchased twenty-five magic tools for six thousand gold coins.
Excluding the damaged ones, that worked out to roughly two hundred sixty gold coins per item on average.
Among them, the gemstone alone was worth over a thousand gold coins, and going by market prices, an ordinary magic tool typically sold for around two hundred forty gold coins.
240 times 22, plus 1,000, came out to 6,280.
Thinking it over, it actually seemed like quite the bargain—not only had they not lost money, they’d come out over two hundred gold coins ahead.
Even the worn and damaged pieces, though not worth much, were still antiques in their own right.
All things considered, this particular shopping trip had gone remarkably well.
Ronan nodded, satisfied: “Not bad.
Didn’t realize the magic tool trade was this profitable—no wonder those guys wanted to rob us.” “Even if you never end up using these, selling them off alone could probably keep your entire village fed for thousands of years.” “So, how do we go about identifying what each of these actually does?” “Frieren, do you know how?” Frieren hesitated for a moment, a flicker of conflict crossing her eyes, before finally shaking her head lightly: “I don’t, but the chief does.
Should we head back now?” “Six thousand three hundred gold coins…
probably even more than that, honestly.
I’m a little worried…” “No need to worry.
With me around, no one would dare try anything.
As for heading back…” Ronan glanced out the window at the sky and shook his head.
“It’s still too early.
We finally made it to a human city—leaving after just one day would hardly do justice to everything we went through yesterday.” “Besides, don’t forget, our statue isn’t even finished yet.” “Have you thought it over, about what we discussed last night?” “Are you turning it down, or agreeing to it?” Frieren lowered her eyes, gently biting her soft pink lips, hesitating for a good while before finally raising her gaze and speaking: “Are you certain that simply putting up a statue would actually deter the Demon King’s Army?” “Of course.” Ronan nodded.
“Even if it doesn’t deter them outright, it could at least make them hesitate, second-guess their next move during future operations.” “After all, the demon race is locked in an endless war with elves and humanity alike, isn’t it?” “Worst case, we could settle down here in the future—if the Demon King’s Army ever comes knocking, you could make an appearance in person.
No rumor carries as much weight as something people witness with their own eyes.” “I’ll handle them myself.” Frieren found herself genuinely moved by his words, but before she could give her answer, a particular phrase suddenly caught her attention.
—Settle down here?
—We?
She lifted her eyes sharply, just about to ask Ronan if he truly meant what he’d said.
Ronan, seeming to catch on to what was running through her mind, added with a smile: “Of course, that was just a figure of speech.
I know you’re an elf, and elves generally aren’t fond of close contact with humans.” “But surely this world has some kind of messenger spell, doesn’t it?” “If the Demon King’s Army shows up, someone notifies us, and we make it there in plenty of time.” “What do you think?” Frieren found herself at a loss for words.
If that was how it would work, then it was something she could accept, after all.
She nodded lightly, signaling her agreement.
Right after, the two of them carefully packed all twenty-some magic tools into their bags, then left the room, planning to head to the market to find someone who could identify them once the statue was finished.
With Viscount Marco as the local ruler lending them his name and protection, it seemed unlikely any more reckless troublemakers would come looking for trouble.
The sound-based one, though…
She still had no idea whether it might turn out to be some kind of hypnosis tool.