The previous day was good, or rather – the same one. It turned out cozy and warm. Even though everything didn’t go the way she wanted, still… it was pleasant. Frieren took care of her as much as she could. And that wasn’t bad at all – on the contrary, it was nice. She gave her food, helped her get up, and even lay down together on the bed, staring at the ceiling and talking about little things.
Sefi herself was not the best conversationalist for everyday talk, but in her opinion, she did well. Even very well. Besides, the elf didn’t ask difficult questions – only simple ones: “So, how are you?”, “Want some more food?”, “How are your legs?”
Technically, Frieren was asking about her condition. But that was still a dialogue. And Sefi handled it well, answering seriously and as precisely as possible. Her answers were short, sometimes too short:
“Good”, “No”, “I can move”
After that, they lay there for a while longer, and then Frieren decided to talk about a book. She spoke about the continuation that Sefi already knew, but listening was still pleasant. It turned out she missed another person’s voice. Or… maybe just the very fact that someone was beside her and having a conversation? Hard to tell.
— Hm… you’re warm, — the elf suddenly said, touching her cheek.
Sefi blinked several times. Warm… that was good. Her clothes were very thick, more like heat-preserving. That question had already come up before – on the fifth lesson Frieren had asked if she wasn’t hot. Back then Sefi answered “no”, and the elf didn’t return to the topic again.
But now the elf turned to her and added:
— And you smell…
— "I smell?!" — Sefi was horrified. Could it be that her “Purification” magic wasn’t working? Absurd! It worked before, so what went wrong?
— Like bread… or no… — Frieren buried her nose slightly into her clothes. — I think… something smoky. Fire, probably… pleasant, like a campfire.
And then she hugged her tighter, closed her eyes and began to breathe deeply
For Sefi, that moment was shocking: for the first time, someone held her this close, not out of necessity, but just… though no, not just. Considering the elf’s freeloading reputation, she would probably bite her and try to eat her. Yes, that must be it. Probably.
— I… mmm… glad. Thank you, — she exhaled. The panic about “Purification” passed. But now Sefi thought about what was said. She smelled like fire? Smoky? But the spell should remove everything – dirt, odors, everything. Yet the grimoire said that the image of magic depended on one’s perception, along with faith and imagination. And that a scent could also appear… as an association.
So… did that mean she subconsciously imagined a campfire? Or the fire itself? Probably. Worth thinking about. Hm… an idea. Fire… for her, fire was a source of energy; once she imagined the form of mana, she thought first of fire… no, more precisely, of energy. Only later of fire, so how? Hmmm, strange. Technically, energy and fire are the same thing? Since energy can be produced from fire, that’s probably how it happened.
Fire… energy, mana. Mana turns into magic – and maybe that’s what causes such a smell.
Besides, she almost always spent time near warmth, near fire. Maybe that’s why? She didn’t like the cold. And another thought: fire is a symbol. Not of faith, no. But of progress, protection, comfort.
Maybe that’s what Frieren feels. Or she herself? Very interesting.
— And what if…
What if she changed the very concept? Since the result depends on thoughts, it’s better not to try to adjust the result, but to change the process itself. Before, she tried to create things from ready-made products, to change their size, break them into parts, like a constructor. But what would change if the process remained the same? Of course, nothing. Probably. If you take it that way, then the process determines the result itself. Like a law in mathematics, the law of addition. It doesn’t matter how you arrange the numbers, the result is still the same. To change the end, you must change… for example, the numbers themselves. Hmmm…
Though… it could be dangerous. But magic is the science of the unknown. Or maybe not – even here the laws of physics apply. Still… scary. What if nothing works? What if the process turns out terrible?
— “I can bring it all back. Yes, I can. If it worked once, then I can roll it back without consequences. I can!” — She fought with her inner conservative. And won too easily. Too. Maybe that meant she was nervous? Yes… yes! Ahem… seems so. Must be so. There’s no other way, isn’t that the spirit of a researcher? — Thank you for this…
Sefi tried to hug Frieren – as much as she could
She had hugged her mother, father, brother, sister. Back then, her embraces were natural, gentle, because she loved them. But not anyone else. That was strange. She had hugged colleagues and friends, but they were her age and height, so nothing arose, it was just a necessity. She had never held children. Not out of disgust, but out of fear. What if she held them wrong and caused pain? What if the child slipped and got hurt? Fear. Yes, it was fear. And now…
— …m? — The elf mumbled something incomprehensible, then just snuggled closer, shaking her head as if trying to bury herself deeper. Sefi was confused. She watched this movement, then hesitantly moved her head away from herself. — …uuu…
— Alright, alright… — Seraphima exhaled and gently wrapped her arm around Frieren’s head, pulling her closer. The girl seemed smaller, more fragile.
Then Sefi turned her face toward her. The elf was already peacefully asleep. Quiet, calm, trusting. A sweet scene.
***
Sefi lay motionless, holding Frieren in her arms. The elf breathed evenly, her breathing could be heard and even felt – light, warm. At first, it was a little embarrassing, but soon it became familiar.
She waited. At first, as if for something external: a question, a movement, another word. But nothing followed. Only silence and the usual rhythm of breathing.
Her thoughts began to wander. About magic, about the process, about what the smell of fire meant, about whether she had hugged correctly… All of it seemed important. But gradually the chain of reasoning got tangled, broke off.
And then… from the silence came an exclamation. A soft tingling between the breasts, right from there. Sefi immediately let go of her and saw that Frieren’s eyes had opened – not much, but still opened. She stood for a second and closed them again, only to open them once more and sit up. Sefi did the same along with her, almost reflexively.
— Then it was lunch… I think now it’s evening… I need to go home… — she murmured sleepily, then flopped back down. Lay there for a few seconds and got up again, now more energetic. — Yes, I need to go home.
— Are you sure about that? — asked Sefi, getting up from the bed, moving her arms and legs, and glancing at the elf’s face. Though she had woken up, she didn’t really look it. A yawn, sticky eyes, and grumbling from her mouth. — Let me walk you halfway, how about that?
— Mmm… okay. — Frieren also got up from the bed, came up to the demoness, and raised her hands to her. — I want purification. — At that, Sefi only sighed; Frieren had become lazy. A big lazy one, and even looked that way…
— Fine… — Grabbing her hand, the lazy one’s personal assistant closed her eyes for a second. — “Purification.”
***
After that they walked, and walked well. The little girl stepped nimbly ahead, sometimes jumping onto stones or avoiding branches on the path. By the way, she was barefoot… and that made Sefi unable to calm down.
Once, she had given her shoes, but the white-haired girl said they were uncomfortable and took them off. Then the demoness reworked those shoes and made her light sandals. But that didn’t please her either – they were hard to put on, and she didn’t like how they looked. After that, Sefi made her wooden slippers with a soft leather lining. The sole was made of crushed bark, glued together with tree sap that had strong adhesive properties. She had found that in the forest, by the way. She added a bit of mana and changed its properties, making its stickiness even stickier. Actually… not exactly, she just used it as a base and imagined superglue, and since it worked, maybe that was enough.
It turned out to be convenient, but the girl still lost them… Sefi made new ones, then again, but they disappeared again. The last time she just got tired and decided not to make her any more shoes. There were no objections. Was she losing them on purpose? Annoying… or maybe not. After the first loss, the girl said she had never worn anything on her feet, and so it became a habit. Maybe that was true. Miss Serie also used to walk barefoot at first.
— Careful, — Sefi grabbed the elf by the collar of her clothes and didn’t let her step further. The girl looked at her in confusion. — There are stones here, they’re sharp.
And indeed, several small stones lay ahead. In shoes, they were almost harmless, but barefoot… it would probably hurt. That’s what the demoness thought.
— Don’t worry, I live here, — said Frieren mischievously, slipping out of the weak grip and walking forward, deftly avoiding everything dangerous. With the grace typical of a child — an elven child: fast, efficient, but also frightening. She glanced at Sefi. — See?
The demoness only pressed her lips together, nodded slightly, then sighed and shook her head.
— Hey, maybe don’t walk so fast? Better let me carry you in my arms, — she suggested. In her house, it was fine to walk barefoot, even near it – it was safe there. Around the house everything was soft, the grass lush, but here... yes, there was grass, but… she just felt uneasy. Only here it wasn’t safe. It worried her deeply. Very deeply. The demoness kept glancing around and stepping carefully on the ground. — It’s easy for an infection to get into an open wound, and that’s very bad.
She tried to persuade the girl, but she only came closer and looked firmly into her eyes. Just as easily walking around everything.
— Sefi, please, — the little one firmly grabbed her palms. — Don’t worry over trifles. I’m already used to it, you always let me go alone. Why worry so much now?
— I just… — began the demoness, but suddenly a sharp rustle came from the bushes. Both immediately turned, and a beastly growl followed, like that of a wolf. Sefi pulled the girl behind her and stepped forward, looking in that direction. From the bushes appeared a wolf’s muzzle.
— Careful, — she warned. The animal slowly came out of hiding. It was large, with not the darkest fur, more grayish. Fangs and yellow eyes, with a black dot.
The beast didn’t dare attack, only cautiously approached, staring into her eyes. A duel — the one who looked away first would lose. Its fierce gaze met the demon’s emotionless eyes, tracking its every move. A second later, the same growl sounded behind them. The demoness quickly lifted the girl onto her left arm and extended her right hand toward the one emerging from the bushes.
At that very moment, stone spikes shot up from the ground at high speed. One pierced the wolf that had come out of the bushes, while the rest formed a circle around her and Frieren. Sefi didn’t go into a full attack since she couldn’t see the enemy clearly: better to play it safe against sudden strikes. Maybe there were more than two? Then, without proper defense, there was no point in attacking.
She was able to build both attack and defense thanks to preparation. Her legs acted as conductors of mana: she poured mana into the ground and prepared spikes there for a quick attack, and around them – several dozen more for defense. Preparation took time, but the attack itself was almost instantaneous. Besides, the shape of the spell could be changed – perfect for any situation. In general, her body served as a conduit, and it didn’t bother her that she wore shoes or clothes. She could simply infuse them with mana… though… that was not easy. It left traces of mana and consumed more, though only a few percent more. There were also drawbacks: since she infused her clothes, in this case her shoes, footprints of mana would remain when walking on the ground, like walking with dirty boots on a white floor. Irrelevant, in this case irrelevant.
The second wolf realized it wasn’t strong enough and, whining, rushed back into the forest. Even after that, Sefi didn’t release Frieren and for several more minutes listened and looked around warily. She fired dozens of small stones into the nearby bushes, and decided to bury the dead animal underground, so as not to attract other predators.
Everything happened within twenty seconds. Sefi could almost freely control the earth, for it was saturated with mana – her mana. First, she made it loose, then opened a ravine into which the body fell. After that, she closed the pit. Externally, nothing had changed, but a lot of mana remained in the soil – a side effect of such actions. It couldn’t be completely removed; only with time would it dissipate. The same went for footprints.
Maybe that was her problem? No, that’s just how magic works
— Maybe you’ll let me go now, Sefi? — said the girl in her arms. The demoness hesitated, then carefully set her down on the ground.
— You know, Sefi, you could be a bit less… hmm… overprotective? Guarded, maybe… I can take care of myself, you’ve seen that, — said Frieren.
— But you’re a child, — Sefi replied calmly, looking at her. Yes, her actions were excessive, but better too much than too little. Yet for a little girl, that sounded like an insult. The white-haired one puffed up and frowned.
— So you think I’m weak just because I’m a child?! — Frieren raised her voice and stood on tiptoe to seem taller and more intimidating. She was hurt. Did Sefi really see her as nothing more than a defenseless child, incapable of anything? Didn’t the fact that she cared for her mean something? And what about bringing her that plant with the oil, or showing her where the clay was didn’t that count for anything?
— No, not like that. You’re strong, Frieren. It’s just that children should remain children, you understand? — Seraphima knelt down on one knee, leveling herself to her height. Even a little lower, now Frieren looked slightly taller. — You’re a child. You shouldn’t think about such things. That’s the concern of adults. That’s… hmm… your privilege, you see?
Frieren stood frowning, still on tiptoe. Her eyes gleamed with defiance. Sefi sighed – evenly, without irritation, but with a trace of weariness – and looked slightly aside. It reminded her of herself.
— I don’t think you’re weak, — she said quietly. — But you’re still a child. And children… shouldn’t suffer. Shouldn’t get sick. Shouldn’t break their legs on stones. They shouldn’t fight. That’s what adults are for that’s their duty.
Frieren blinked, her furrowed brows quivering
— But why? I can do it myself! You know that, I even attacked you... — The last part she whispered, clenching her fists.
— You can, — Sefi nodded. — But it’s not your duty, it’s mine. If danger comes — I’ll face it. If there’s pain — it’ll be mine. Those aren’t your problems, and you… just live. Play. Look at the stars, read if you want to, you’re a child.
The girl pressed her lips together and looked at her even more sternly, as if refusing to give up.
— What if I want to be an adult? — she blurted stubbornly.
The demoness gently placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders, very carefully, and then hugged her. Not perfectly, but like that time when they lay on the bed.
— You’ll have time, — she said. — Believe me. Adulthood always comes on its own. Too quickly, sometimes even when you don’t expect it. So while you can still be a child… stay one.
Frieren turned away for a second, as if hiding that something inside her had stirred. Then she muttered:
— You’re still too caring anyway, I want to help you too.
— Maybe, — Sefi slightly raised her head. — But that’s not your problem either.
***
They didn’t walk for long. Frieren said she would go on alone from there. At first, Seraphima wanted to object – the forest seemed too dangerous, and the elf girl too careless. But she made it clear:
— If my kin see you, they’ll attack, Sefi, — Frieren said calmly.
That ended the demon’s attempts. The elf lifted her chin proudly and smirked. Victory. There it was again! Even if only in words.
— Don’t worry. It’s not far from here to the village, and overall this area is safe. — She explained fully; though she was pleased, she wasn’t heartless. After all, the demoness was worried about her, and it wouldn’t be right to upset her like that.
— Understood, — Seraphima replied shortly, studying her companion carefully. Not a scratch, not a spot of dirt. Unintentionally, a strange sense of pride stirred inside her: the girl hadn’t been hurt while with her. It was like delivering a parcel intact, submitting a flawless report, or sending a nephew home unharmed – even if he cried over ice cream. Pride – yes, that was the feeling that flickered. How responsible.
— Be careful, — she added.
— You too.
That was how they said goodbye: Frieren headed toward the village, Seraphima toward her home. But along the way, the demon once again looked around, her gaze lingering on the place of the recent skirmish with the wolf… and decided not to return yet. She wanted to wander a bit more, to admire the forest.
In her past life, she almost never had moments like this. Even back when she studied under Miss Serie, everything came down to a desperate struggle against her own helplessness: a strict schedule, study, training, sleep. On repeat. There was no room, no time left just to walk and look around.
Her human life passed among concrete jungles. Apartment blocks, skyscrapers, asphalt… But here, everything was different. She had rarely seen beauty like this. Maybe only occasionally – on the way to her parents’ country house, when they had to cross patches of forest. But back then, they always just drove past. The real forest remained a foreign, inaccessible territory. Well, maybe the parks – but those didn’t have the same atmosphere.
And now it felt strange. Not sad – no. Just strange. And not only because of the surroundings. The very fact of her existence now seemed absurd. She’d been torn from her old world, changed species, thrown into isolation. For what purpose? Why? And why did she take it so calmly?
She was no longer human. She was now a demon. A monster. Her new race inspired hatred in the world; she herself was doomed to longevity and cold indifference. She should be afraid – in a human way. But she wasn’t human anymore.
Strange…
Still, it didn’t matter. As long as she was alive, anything was possible. That meant it was time to practice magic. The wilderness was the perfect place for training.
Her first goal was to change the very concept of creation. But how? Change the structure? No, she had already tried that; it turned out the same as with the glue. So a new process of creation was needed.
Hm… Maybe optimize the system itself? Imagine it as a program? But she needed a simple analogy… Excel spreadsheets! Yes. Without formulas and commands, the work turns into sheer routine, but with them – everything becomes easier. What could serve as such «commands» here?
Before, they were the crafting materials. Her mana, in general, acted as those «commands,» but with little success, since their… quantity was simply not enough. But now there had to be something else.
— What if… emotions? — murmured Sefi.
If blood could be used as payment, then why not emotions? After all, they’re part of the body and her brain. True, the demon race is far too stingy with such expressions. Extracting emotions would be difficult.
She pondered. Emotions are, in essence, hormones. Endorphins are produced from sweets, serotonin – from sunlight, dopamine – from tasty, hearty food. So, to strengthen magic, she needed… to walk outside, eat sweets and meat, and ideally have someone to talk to, since communication brings more positive emotions. Endorphins are usually found in chocolate, but sugar is also sweet – they must have it too.
She believed in it
Perfect. Not long ago, next to Frieren, she had felt something resembling happiness. How to combine all of this? Difficult, but possible. Sun, sweets, food, and conversation.
— Then tomorrow I’ll have a picnic, — she concluded. — For now… I can walk a bit more.
She took a deep breath of the fresh scent of pine needles and damp earth. And for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to walk without purpose – just listening to the wind playing through the treetops.
She walked slowly, allowing herself to take in the forest step by step. The dark needles of tall fir trees, the soft carpet of moss, here and there – pale mushrooms, the damp aroma of soil. It all seemed foreign and unfamiliar, yet orderly. Nature, like any system, had its own algorithm. Trees reached upward toward light, roots stretched into the soil, water flowed down the slopes – simple and clear logic, without unnecessary emotion. All to survive and grow stronger.
She stopped by a stream. A thin ribbon of water trickled between stones, reflecting the sunlight. Sefi bent down and ran her fingers along the surface. Cold. An unpleasant feeling. Again that same revulsion she always felt toward cold. But at the same time, she noted: the flow of water could be compared to the flow of mana – like Frieren’s. Water seeks the shortest path, avoiding obstacles rather than breaking them. Could her magic work on the same principle? Could it flow, instead of being just a straight line?
The thought caught
After all, she hadn’t been able to create a golem, which meant the form of mana affected the final result. Such details… mattered. Hm… and if she directed mana into the water, what would happen then?
If she infused it into the earth, it would remain there and gradually dissipate over time. But in water? Would it be carried away by the current? And if she tried to forcibly hold it, would that stop the flow?
— I have to try. — Sefi slowly released mana into the water, and just as she expected, it was carried away by the current, like paint. What if she took that as her model? To create chaos… a controlled chaos? Would that allow her to achieve the same flow of mana as Frieren’s? — Hm…
Now the experimenter stepped away from the water. She let mana flow freely out of herself, just a small part. She tried to move it like a stream. It didn’t work. Too many factors had to be considered. One part had to turn this way, another – that way, and all of it had to be random… Yes, exactly – random. And that was what she couldn’t do. Simply couldn’t. It wasn’t in her power. She had to account for everything, and she couldn’t. Physically impossible. How did Frieren manage it? Was she a computer or something?
Was that the difference between an elf and a demon?
It pissed her off… pissed her off… unfair. Why could they do it, and she couldn’t? How was that possible? Frieren, Miss Serie – they could cast spells flawlessly, and for her, it always ended in failure…
Unconsciously, she clenched her fists
— I hate it… I hate it…
With each word, mana burst out of her stronger, uncontrollable – not like a stream, but like a raging torrent. Sefi no longer tried to direct it – she simply let the anger flow. It was the same feeling she had when she first realized her helplessness before Miss Serie, that she had hidden her mana... fear and hatred, envy...
And then the space itself seemed to shudder. In the air, right before her eyes, something began to thicken. At first, a formless mass, then – an elongated shape. A blade. Jagged, as if woven from darkness. It trembled, as if it didn’t understand why it had appeared, but the threatening aura coming from it was undeniable. A weapon of murder.
Sefi froze. Her breath faltered.
She hadn’t tried to do this. It was accidental. But it worked.
The sword – or what looked like a sword – vibrated in the air, ready to strike. It was terrible and beautiful at the same time. Dangerous, like the hatred that had birthed it.
Sefi reached out her hand. Carefully. The blade swayed slightly and obediently settled into her palm. She felt the weight – real weight. Not an illusion, not a trick. A real object. It was an object, a real one...
A feeling flared inside. Not the joy of a human, not relief. It was the euphoria of a scientist who made a breakthrough after dozens of failed experiments. Cold, pure, almost maniacal joy.
— It worked… — she whispered. Her lips stretched into a smile on their own. It was a wrong smile, strange, horrible... incomprehensible. — It worked!
She raised the blade, watching how its surface shimmered in the light. Inside, everything sang with delight. She had never felt anything like this before. Even pain, even hatred – nothing compared to this. This was joy! Joy!
She stepped forward and swung the blade at the nearest branch. The tree cracked and fell to the ground as if cut by steel. No illusion – it was a real weapon. Her amount of mana had decreased only slightly... hah... hah... but nothing more. It didn’t consume power to sustain itself.
Sefi pressed the blade to her chest, as if afraid it would vanish
— Here it is… — her voice trembled, but not from fear. — I did it... I did it, I did it... I DID IT!!!
And for a moment, something new appeared in her eyes – not cold emptiness, not her usual detachment, but a dangerous spark.
At first, the euphoria overflowed, but after a few moments another feeling came to her. Fear.
She looked at the sword and realized – this wasn’t a tool, but a weapon of death. The demoness had created things before, but they were ordinary, simple... not this. She felt its weight. A terrible weight.
Sefi felt everything inside her tighten. A thought flashed in her mind:
— "If this happened by accident… what will happen next time? What if I can’t stop it?" — She stepped back, about to throw the weapon away, but her fingers wouldn’t open. The sword seemed fused to her hand. Or maybe it was she who didn’t want to let go.
— This… is bad, — she exhaled, looking at the jagged blade. The woman couldn’t control the creation of this thing, and without that... she couldn’t. She mustn’t. Having control over everything was essential, and a weapon outside that law… unacceptable.
She gripped the hilt tighter
— But… I created it, — she said more firmly. — If I can create it, that means I can control it.
The fear didn’t disappear, but she began to justify it, fitting it into logic. Yes, the sword was bad, yes, it was born of hatred – but it was her creation. And that meant it belonged to her... yes...
— I’ll find a way to control it, — she continued almost in a whisper, as if convincing herself. — It won’t control me, I’ll control it.
Her breathing steadied. She pressed the blade to her palm and examined it. It looked like a saw, exactly like a saw... Does that cause more wounds? Is that the echo of her hatred? Perhaps, since there were such swords in history.
Inside her, a mixture of emotions flared again – fear and euphoria, intertwined so tightly that separating them was impossible. If she could do this with emotion, then her theory was correct! She was absolutely right! Right! She could do it! She believed in it!