Early the next morning, as the first rays of sunlight spilled through the gaps in the window and onto the floor of the room.
Ronan had already woken up, preparing to keep his promise and head to the nearby human town to purchase a batch of food.
He gently pushed the bedroom door open, trying his best not to make a sound.
However, as he stepped into the living room, he suddenly spotted Frieren sprawled out on the floor, fast asleep, limbs splayed in every direction.
Her sleeping posture left something to be desired.
Her hair, originally tied up, had come loose, a few stray strands scattered messily across her cheeks, her belly exposed without a trace of self-consciousness.
But Ronan gave it all no more than a glance and thought nothing of it.
His attention was instead drawn to the thick notebook sitting on the table.
It looked like something she’d written up the night before.
Quite the discipline—was this what her love for magic looked like?
Ronan felt a flicker of admiration, a quiet sense of appreciation welling up inside him.
His footsteps grew even softer as he slowly approached Frieren’s side.
Looking down at her sleeping face, Ronan bent down and gently lifted Frieren up, meaning to set her down on the nearby couch so she wouldn’t catch a chill.
But the moment he lifted her, Frieren seemed to sense something.
She suddenly turned slightly, her shoulders shifting a couple of times, as if searching for a more comfortable position.
“Mm~” Along with a drowsy little hum, her eyelids fluttered a few times before slowly opening.
Her vision was still hazy, her mind not yet fully awake.
But the instant she saw Ronan, her groggy brain seemed to freeze for a second.
Then, she realized she was being carried in his arms.
And that…
even her stomach was exposed.
The air went dead silent.
…
“What are you doing…” In the living room, Frieren hurriedly straightened out her rumpled clothes, her expression lowered, at a momentary loss for words.
Even though her age had left her with little in the way of deep emotion, she was, at her core, still an ordinary little girl.
So in this moment, faced with this situation, even as an elf, the mere thought of it was enough to make her heart beat just a little faster than usual, instinctively.
Seeing her flustered, saying nothing, simply lowering her head to fix her clothes in a hurry.
Ronan rubbed his forehead, feeling as though he’d overstepped somehow.
He’d only meant to keep her from catching a cold, that was all.
Of course, he didn’t say much about it either, and as time passed, Frieren quickly regained her composure.
She then learned that Ronan had actually accepted the chief’s request to travel to a human town to buy food.
He’d bring the Hero’s Sword along just in case—after all, it was the only weapon he had on him.
If he ran into any monsters along the way, fighting bare-handed and coming back covered in blood wouldn’t exactly be a pretty sight.
“I’m coming too.
Take me with you—I’ve more or less finished studying the heat-based magic.” Frieren’s gaze drifted to her notebook, her thoughts inevitably drifting back to the day before, her tone carrying a hint of reflection, “All that’s left is testing and refining it through actual combat, and that’s not really something I can do here.” “Also, there are a few things I wanted to ask you about.” The concept of an ignition point was easy enough to grasp—it simply meant that once the surrounding air reached a certain temperature, an object would catch fire on its own.
She’d seen it happen a few times before, during the summer, but back then she’d never paid it much mind.
Just as, before Newton discovered gravity, people saw apples fall without ever wondering why.
Looking back on it now, she felt a small pang of guilt.
To avoid making the same mistake twice, she’d genuinely sat down and thought it through the night before.
What if there was no air around?
What if an enemy used ice magic to drastically lower the surrounding temperature?
And besides, if the temperature got too high, could it end up harming herself too?
After all, some spells didn’t discriminate between friend and foe.
Heat-based magic was undoubtedly one of them.
Listening to Frieren’s words, Ronan smiled.
Though somewhat surprised by her thirst for knowledge, he didn’t discourage her: “Ask away.
Wanting to learn is a good thing.” “No wonder the chief said you’re the most gifted mage here.” “Actually, even if you hadn’t brought it up yourself, I would’ve invited an elf to come along with me anyway.” “Since I have no idea where the nearest human town even is.” “Now that you’ve offered, let’s go together, then.” With that, Ronan rose from the couch.
After a bit of sorting out their clothes, by the time the two of them officially set off, several dozen minutes had already passed.
…
The town reminded Ronan of the cities of ancient Rome and Greece he’d read about back in his old life—human clothing here mostly consisted of draped white cloth, simple, yet not lacking in elegance.
Ronan and Frieren walked along a street paved with bluestone, surrounded by a bustling crowd, lively and full of energy.
Sunlight filtered down through the dappled leaves overhead.
Not far off, a number of passersby cast curious glances their way—clearly, they were sizing up Frieren.
Frieren paid it no mind at all; she’d long since grown used to that kind of attention.
Compared to the humans one could find everywhere, elves were undeniably a rare sight.
At that moment, she found herself pondering a question: didn’t casting heat-based magic require a wand?
On the way into town, she’d paid extra close attention, watching Ronan cast his spells several more times.
Whether the attacking monster was a small bird the size of a palm, or a griffin as large as a mountain.
Ronan could dispatch it effortlessly with nothing more than a single snap of his fingers.
Though she knew this was just an unconscious little habit of his, one that only heightened his presence without actually boosting his power.
Still, no matter how she looked at it, the whole process seemed far too effortless.
It almost gave her the impression that anyone could learn this spell…
“Still stuck on what happened earlier?” Ronan glanced sideways, seeming to have picked up on what Frieren was mulling over, his tone as calm as if he were discussing something trivial, “No need to overthink it.
This kind of magic was always going to be special…
no, all magic is special, really.” “Take the water-calling spell you taught me before, for example.” Ronan tilted his head back, lost in thought for a moment, “Since it requires imagining water vapor condensing into water, under normal circumstances, that kind of spell tends to get used as a water cannon, relying on sheer impact force to strike at enemies.” “But there are exceptions too, like water needles, or water bullets.” Bringing up the transformation of water, Ronan paused to think for a moment, then turned his gaze back to Frieren, “I wonder if you still remember what I taught you yesterday.” “Given the same amount of force, the smaller an object’s surface area, the greater the damage it can inflict on other matter.” “Water and heat are no exception to that.” “Rather than spending a huge amount of magic power heating up the surrounding space…” “It’s far more efficient to use only a small amount of magic power to heat something from the inside, directly within a living creature.” “This approach not only improves the efficiency of killing monsters, but also extends your own staying power in a fight…” “Even if you’re a genius, the amount of magic power you can use is still limited, isn’t it?” That was true, Frieren realized, struck by sudden clarity.
Because the amount of magic power consumed was so small, it could be cast without needing a wand at all.
She’d fallen into a misconception before, mistakenly believing that the more magic power output, the more powerful the spell.
To Ronan, it sounded obvious.
To Frieren, it felt like overturning centuries of magical theory.
“Where did you learn all of this?” she asked, a light tinged with something like reverence flickering in her eyes.
“Why hadn’t I heard even the faintest whisper of it before?
Isn’t that strange?” “If humans of the past had grasped this kind of knowledge, magic surely wouldn’t have remained stagnant for this long.” Strange?
Ronan smiled—not strange at all, in his opinion.
If he possessed wisdom a thousand years ahead of everyone else and still couldn’t accomplish something like this, he’d hardly deserve to call himself a transmigrator.
In truth, people of the past hadn’t been foolish—they simply lacked the eyes to notice what was right in front of them.
Before the invention of machinery, who would have ever imagined that water, seemingly soft and gentle in everyday life, could possess enough force to cut through steel?
He was merely standing on the shoulders of giants, that was all.
Shaking his head lightly, Ronan didn’t say anything more, simply continuing to walk in quiet silence.
Soon enough, they entered the marketplace, the surroundings growing livelier still.
Frieren, too, shook off her pensive mood, drawn in by the dazzling array of magic tools on display, her eyes filled with curiosity.