“Fire without flame, all things ignite?” Hearing what this spell was supposed to do, Frieren blinked in bewilderment, a hint of confusion slowly surfacing on her delicate face.
—What kind of spell was this?
She’d never heard of anything like it.
She couldn’t even wrap her head around it, because within her own understanding of the world, this was simply something that shouldn’t be possible.
For anything to burn, fire had to be present first.
From striking flint to a raging forest fire…
without a spark or a flame to start it off, how could anything possibly catch fire?
After all, even fire-attribute magic worked by converting magic power into flame as its output.
Doing it without fire meant relying purely on unattributed magic power alone to make something spontaneously combust out of nowhere…
How was that even possible?
Magic was indeed built on imagination, that much was true—but that didn’t mean it could defy reality itself.
Take cutting magic, for example—in theory, it should be able to slice through space itself, but in practice, no one had ever achieved such a feat.
The reason was simple: neither elf nor human could truly imagine what it would look like for space itself to be cut open.
Fire…
was no different.
Frieren took a deep breath, trying to calm her somewhat muddled thoughts, wondering if she’d misheard, or if perhaps Ronan had simply misspoken.
But when she came back to herself and saw the sheer certainty on Ronan’s face…
The question on her lips died before she could ask it.
At that moment, Frieren finally began to understand why the chief had never let her learn this spell.
If it was hopeless to learn anyway, and it would only crush her confidence in the process, better to keep it a mystery instead.
Ronan had been watching the subtle shifts in Frieren’s expression the whole time, and seeing her look somewhat crestfallen…
Clap.
He closed the book, his tone carrying a note of concern: “What’s wrong?
Are you feeling unwell somewhere?
Or is it that you don’t quite understand this spell?
Surely you’re not just surprised that I can even parse magic like this?” “Of course not.” Frieren, having pulled herself out of her thoughts, shook her head.
She took a seat across from Ronan; though her heart was still stirred with turmoil, her voice remained calm: “I was just thinking—a spell that defies reality’s own rules like this, is there really anyone alive who could actually learn it?” “As for not quite understanding it, that’s true, to some extent.
No matter how I try, I simply can’t picture what something burning would even look like without fire.” “Can you picture it?” She raised her head, looking at Ronan, assuming he couldn’t imagine it either.
Just as Frieren had concluded this spell was surely doomed to be lost forever, Ronan, contrary to expectation, broke into an easy, unhurried smile.
He set the grimoire down on the table, facing Frieren, and chuckled softly: “You mean picturing this spell?
That’s simple enough.
Think of the object itself as the fuel.” “Not needing fire means relying on an indirect form of heat instead.” “Rather than calling it a spell that ignites anything without fire…” “It’d be more accurate to call it a spell that uses magic power to instantly raise a substance’s temperature.” “After all, everything has a temperature at which it catches fire.” “Because it relies on an invisible medium—magic power—to observers, it simply looks as though the substance has suddenly caught fire on its own.” “Something like…” Ronan glanced around the room for a moment, then settled his gaze on a small green leaf that had drifted in through the window and landed on the table in front of them.
He gave a light snap of his fingers.
Snap.
A crisp sound rang out.
The leaf instantly turned scorched and yellow, curling and twisting, burning to ash at a speed visible to the naked eye, before vanishing entirely.
All that remained was a faint trace of burnt smell lingering in the air, the only proof it had ever existed at all.
“Just like that.” Ronan nodded.
From selecting the target to casting the spell, the entire process had taken less than a second.
To anyone else, it would have seemed an incredibly short span of time—but to Frieren, it left her utterly stunned.
Several seconds passed before Frieren finally came back to herself, her eyes going wide, letting out a startled “Huh?!” —What?
What had she just seen?
Why had the leaf caught fire on its own?
Had there been any ripple of magic power just now?
Frieren tried hard to recall that fleeting moment, only to realize she hadn’t sensed a single thing.
Had Ronan really done that?
It was no wonder she was so shocked—when Ronan cast a spell, there was almost no sign of it beforehand whatsoever.
Taking a small breath, Frieren looked at Ronan, her eyes filled with a hint of curiosity, and asked: “How did you do that?
Ignition point…
what even is an ignition point?
Have you actually learned this spell?
In such a short amount of time?” “If I remember correctly, didn’t you just get this grimoire this morning?” “How could it possibly be this fast?” So many questions swirled in her mind.
Though elves weren’t known for being talkative, that varied from person to person, and it also depended on the situation at hand.
Take, for instance, her own fear of the dark, her fear of enclosed spaces—which was why she always had to keep a lamp lit at night in order to fall asleep.
If she ever forgot to light it, and found herself surrounded by darkness and closed-in walls, she’d surely end up unable to hold back tears.
“You think that was fast?” Ronan smiled, his tone easy and composed.
“I suppose so.” “If it weren’t for the fact that I was trying to figure out how to raise a substance’s temperature using as little magic power as possible, subtly enough that no one would even notice…” “I could’ve done it even faster.” “As for the ignition point…
I don’t remember the precise terminology.
You elves don’t know much about this kind of thing, and it’s hard to explain in a short amount of time anyway.” “How about this instead.” “I’ll take charge of teaching you this kind of knowledge, and you take charge of passing on the spells you know to me.” “After what just happened, you should have a good sense of my talent for magic by now.” “Let’s teach each other.
Trust me, little lady, you won’t be getting the short end of this deal.” Hearing this, Frieren hesitated for a moment.
It was true.
She’d never seen talent like Ronan’s before.
In just a few short hours, he’d mastered a spell that might have taken her an entire lifetime to learn, if she ever managed it at all.
By all rights, she should agree—magic was something she loved deeply, and for its sake, she’d be willing to give up nearly anything else.
But teaching each other?
That was a path she’d never once considered.
Ronan’s talent was so extraordinarily high—what if she wasn’t good enough to teach him properly?
Frieren found herself genuinely worried about this.
Yesterday had been yesterday—back then, Ronan’s words had just been idle talk.
But now that it was actually happening, the situation would surely feel entirely different…
—Her thoughts were a mess.
Seeing Frieren’s conflicted expression, Ronan didn’t press her for an answer.
He knew this wasn’t something to rush.
He simply crossed his arms and sat quietly on the animal-hide couch, waiting patiently for her response.
After a long while, Frieren finally raised her head.
She took a deep breath, then nodded firmly: “Alright, I agree.
But I do have one condition.” “Since you’re the Hero, you surely won’t be staying here for long.” “So, on the day you set off—the day our arrangement comes to an end—” “Whatever we’ve learned by then, we’ll leave it at that, no matter how much it pains us.” “Can you accept that condition?” Having said this much, she took another deep breath, her voice growing a little less certain, “It’s fine if you can’t accept it.
I’m sure you’ll be able to find a better teacher than me, somewhere out there.” “Your talent, even by the standards of the whole world, is probably—” Before she could finish, Ronan’s voice cut in, carrying a note of comfort and reassurance: “No problem at all, Frieren.
There’s no need to think so little of yourself.” “As far as I’m concerned, you’re already the best teacher I’ve ever had.” Since she was, after all, the only teacher he’d ever had, she was naturally his number one by default.
As for talent—if he were honest, even just reading a book on his own would have been no different from having Frieren teach him.
Calling her his “teacher” was really just an excuse.
After all, reading alone could never compare to the comfort of learning directly from Frieren.