Flamme, You are My Most Outstanding Disciple

By the time Flamme returned, the purple-haired demon had stopped moving.

Flamme approached the scene with an air of grim satisfaction, her right hand gripping her staff tightly, while her left hand held the severed heads of the Greatsword Demon and the Astrolabe Demon. Their hair was tied together like a grotesque bundle of fruit, dangling lifelessly from her grasp.

Hiss, hiss, rustle—

The sound of black smoke escaping from the severed necks of the demons filled the air. The Greatsword Demon and the Astrolabe Demon had died with their eyes open, their expressions frozen in disbelief. As the smoke dissipated, their heads gradually turned to ash, crumbling away until nothing but dust remained. Flamme finally dropped what was left, kicking the ashes aside with a sense of finality.

"Now, they're definitely dead."

Demonkind magic was strange and varied, with many spells that would be considered miracles in human magic. But among demons, they were common. Over years of relentless combat against demons, Flamme had learned that a demon could only be considered truly dead when their body turned to ash. Until then, she could never be certain.

Flamme's gaze shifted to the purple-haired demon lying motionless on the ground. As she approached, a soldier stepped forward to report.

"We've confirmed that this demon is no longer able to resist, but she's still breathing. Her bleeding has stopped, so she might survive for a while longer. If you have any questions for her, now would be the time."

"Haven't I already said? Kill the demons wherever you see them. Don't hesitate. Don't show mercy. Demons won't tell the truth even before they die. All the information they give is false. I know this very well."

Flamme's voice was laced with frustration, not just at the soldier, but at the situation itself. These soldiers, many of whom had been sent by the kingdom to assist her, were not her personal guards. They were likely following orders from their superiors, hoping to glean some intelligence from the defeated demon about the movements and strategies of the demon army.

But Flamme knew better. Demons were considered non-human for a reason. They had none of the societal traits humans did, no organized military structure, no loyalty to anything but their own power. The strongest demon ruled, and the rest followed out of fear or self-interest. Any attempt to extract information was futile.

Individual demons didn't know the movements of others, and even if they did, they would never tell the truth. They thrived on deceit, using lies to mislead and manipulate their enemies, often causing devastating losses to human forces.

Flamme had long ago experienced the demons' tendency to lie, from the mouth of a certain purple-haired demon.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Move aside. I'll finish her myself."

The soldiers stepped back, maintaining a cautious distance as the spearmen tightened their grip on their weapons, keeping the purple-haired demon pinned to the ground. Fear still lingered in the air, as if they were all waiting for the demon to unleash a final, desperate attack against Flamme. But the purple-haired demon remained motionless, her strength sapped by the countless wounds inflicted upon her.

Flamme approached with deliberate calm, her eyes narrowing as she studied the demon before her. With a measured motion, she lifted the demon's chin with the tip of her boot, forcing her to look up.

'So it really is her,' Flamme thought, recognizing the familiar face. This was the same demon who had nearly strangled her to death ten years ago, only to spare her at the last moment, leaving Flamme humiliated and seething with rage.

Back then, Flamme had been a young, hot-headed girl, burning with rage and shame at the thought of being left alive only as a means of insult. But ten years had passed since that day. The fury that once consumed Flamme had long since been tempered by time and experience. Now, looking down at the demon who had once been so proud and untouchable, bloodied and beaten at her feet, Flamme felt no satisfaction, no triumph.

Only a dull, numb calm settled over her heart.

Too much time has passed. She is already 32 years old, a stable adult among humans. How could she still be as restless as the little girl she was before and get upset by one or two things?

The human mind grows very fast, unlike demons and elves. What might have shaken her ten years ago didn't matter anymore.

This was why human growth surpassed that of long-lived species.

Yet, not everything had faded with age. There was one thing that still mattered to Flamme—one thing that time had not dulled. It was the lingering mystery of her teacher, Aura, the woman who had saved her twice and taught her magic when she was just a child.

The purple-haired demon before her might know something about Aura, but Flamme no longer wanted to ask. She had been deceived by demons too many times, hurt too many times. All that remained was hatred and a desire to annihilate them completely.

"Let's see if you can survive without your head." Flamme muttered, her voice devoid of emotion as she extended her hand, ready to cast a decapitation spell on Aura.

Buzz, buzz—

As if she felt being touched, Aura, who had been silent, suddenly gasped again. Her pair of purple bloodshot eyes opened, the once vibrant color now dulled by pain and exhaustion. The first thing they saw was Flamme's Roman-style cross-laced sandals, dusty from the long battle.

"Flamme…" Aura's voice was raspy, barely more than a whisper, as she reached out with her unpinned left hand, the motion weak and trembling. Her fingers, once nimble and powerful, now quivered as they barely managed to clutch Flamme's ankle, a desperate plea evident in the feeble grip.

'Ah, so she still remembers my name. I thought I was just another insignificant human she toyed with.

Calling my name—are you going to beg for mercy?'

Flamme lifted her foot, the movement deliberate and cruel, pressing down on Aura's outstretched hand with just enough force to cause pain but not to break it. The leather sole of her sandal ground into Aura's fingers, and yet, Aura didn't even flinch. Her face twisted in agony, but she was too exhausted to resist, too spent to even struggle against the pain. It was as if the fight had been completely drained out of her, leaving behind only a husk of desperation.

"Please... please, Flamme... at least... at least let this child go..." Aura's weak voice reached Flamme from below.

Flamme paused, her foot still pressing down on Aura's hand, surprise flickering across her face. She had expected curses, threats, perhaps even some desperate attempt at survival, but this... this was something else entirely.

'Huh? She didn't even beg me to let her go. This is the first time I've encountered such a demon… Let the child go. Where did the child come from?'

Flamme squatted down, and then she found something surprising.

Nestled beneath Aura's bloodied and battered form was a small, white-haired elf, her delicate features peaceful despite the chaos around her.

Flamme's gaze swept over the scene—several spears had pierced through the purple-haired demon's body, but the elf beneath her was untouched, perfectly shielded from harm by Aura's own body.

Flamme stretched out her hand to pull the white-haired elf out, but she didn't expect that this seemed to touch upon some taboo of the purple-haired demon. The demon, who was already on the verge of death, began to tremble all over again, her dazed eyes suddenly flashed, and her voice became sharp.

Aura trembled as she pleaded:

"Wait, Flamme... Flamme! I can die, but she's innocent. Her name is Frieren... an elf. Her family, like yours... was killed by demons."

The words tumbled out of her, rushed and disjointed, as if she feared she wouldn't have enough time to say everything she needed to.

"I taught her demons magic… but Frieren never knew demons would kill other elves… she didn't understand anything and believed everything I said... she still believed that there were good demon clans in the world until her village was exterminated by the demons!"

As Aura spoke, blood bubbled up from her throat, spilling out over her lips and staining her words with a crimson hue. Each sentence was punctuated by a ragged cough, the effort of speaking clearly taking a severe toll on her already fragile body.

"Frieren is innocent… Please… don't kill her…"

Aura's plea grew softer, her voice fading as her strength ebbed away. She coughed again, this time more violently, her body convulsing as blood splattered on the ground.

Flamme recoiled in shock, her eyes wide with disbelief, as if witnessing something unimaginable.

A demon… begging for an elf's life?

Flamme glanced around the battlefield, her eyes narrowing as she observed the soldiers who stood at the ready, their expressions tense and uncertain. The air was thick with the smell of blood and the heavy silence that followed a hard-fought victory. The squad leader, noticing her attention, quickly stepped forward, his armor clinking softly as he approached.

"Miss Flamme," the squad leader began, his voice low and respectful. "We used the elf to subdue the purple-haired demon. The elf was unconscious and posed no immediate threat, so we thought it best to wait for your return before making any further decisions."

Flamme's gaze shifted to the elf beneath Aura, her brow furrowing as she took in the delicate, slumbering form. The white-haired elf looked peaceful, almost serene, despite the carnage around her. It was a stark contrast to the bloodied and battered demon shielding her.

"This demon is indeed strange," he continued, lowering his voice as he leaned in closer. "The men have been talking about it in whispers. They've never seen a demon with this kind of expression before. When they surrounded her, it didn't feel like they were fighting a demon. Instead, it looked like they were killing a human."

"Please, Flamme..." The purple-haired demon's voice broke through her thoughts, hoarse and trembling. "I deceived you… Twenty years ago, it was my fault. I shouldn't have taught you the wrong magic…"

'Wait, what is this demon saying?

Twenty years ago? The day Aura saved me from the roadside?'

Flamme's opened her eyes wide in disbelief. She had never told anyone that it was at that time that she was first introduced to magic.

"Cough... I shouldn't have knocked you out from behind thirteen years ago when you were seriously injured and protecting me... I shouldn't have cut open your stomach and tried to ate your internal organs later..."

'Thirteen years ago?'

Flamme had almost forgotten.

In order to protect Aura, she was hit by the magic cannon of the demons. When she told Aura to leave quickly... Ah, she suddenly had a headache and lost consciousness... When she woke up later, the wound on her stomach had been cleaned, but it was all bite marks... At that time, at that time? At that time! Could it be??

"I'm sorry, Flamme…" Aura raised her head tremblingly and gave Flamme a bitter, sorrowful smile. Aura's expression was already very human-like. "I shouldn't have tried to abandon you over and over."

"But… this has nothing to do with Frieren. Could you forgive me? Please spare her…"

"Please... I'll do anything…"

Aura's breath came in ragged gasps as she seemed to recall something buried deep in her mind. With trembling fingers, she began to drag her hand, the one crushed into the mud beneath Flamme's sandal, inch by inch towards her head. Her movement was slow, deliberate, as if every tiny motion cost her a great deal of strength. Finally, her bloodied hand reached her left horn, the one that had been broken and healed multiple times over the years.

"You've always wanted my horn, right? I'll give it to you… Right here."

Crack—

Aura snapped off a large piece of her left horn, the one that had been injured three times and carefully healed. Holding it in her hand, she offered it to Flamme with hope in her eyes.

Aura's purple eyes were filled with tears and pleading.

Flamme stared blankly, not fully processing Aura's flood of words. When Aura handed over the horn, Flamme instinctively took it.

The moment she touched it, a strange familiarity washed over her, as if she had held this very object before. Memories, hazy and fragmented, surged to the forefront of her mind—images of a purple-haired, horned figure carrying her on its back while she drifted in and out of consciousness. Flamme's heart raced as the memories became more vivid, no longer just dreams but tangible moments she had experienced.

"No… no… no no no no no!!!!"

Flamme staggered back, her legs giving way beneath her, and she collapsed to her knees, her face contorted in terror.

She had always thought those hazy memories were just dreams. Flamme had always believed they were just confused, interwoven dreams created by her muddled consciousness!

Flamme's breathing grew erratic, her chest heaving as she struggled to process what was happening.

'How could this be? How could this be!' Her thought was frantic, bordering on hysterical.

'When Aura was carrying me on her back… the thing I held in my hand… it really was a demon horn!!!'

The realization tore through her, shattering the foundation of everything she had believed. The demon who had saved her, who had carried her, who had protected her—how could it be the same creature she had sworn to destroy?

Desperation clawed at her insides as she suddenly lunged forward, clumsily scrambling on her hands and knees until she was right in front of Aura. Her eyes bore into Aura's face, searching for answers in the demon's bloodied and broken expression.

"But why didn't you reveal your identity from the start! Why did you hide it from me from the beginning! What was your real motive!!"

"...I am a demon, Flamme."

Aura's breathing became more labored, her chest rising and falling with painful effort. Her lips trembled as she coughed violently, a thick mouthful of blood spilling past her fingers as she tried in vain to contain it. The rich, metallic scent of blood filled the air, mingling with the dirt and sweat of the battlefield. As she stared down at the pool of blood in her palm, a bitter smile tugged at the corners of her lips, though it was tinged with sadness rather than malice.

"These hands of mine…" Aura whispered, her voice strained and raw, "…are stained with so much human blood. Even if I wanted to turn over a new leaf, to be a good demon… But, Flamme, could you forgive me on their behalf?"

Flamme's breathing stopped, her eyes were empty, she couldn't answer, and had no way to answer.

At the moment she confirmed that the demon before her was Aura, Flamme indeed wanted to let her go, to save her, but... but—Flamme couldn't do it!

The thought of sparing Aura, of allowing her to live, sent a wave of nausea through Flamme. Yet, deep down, there was a part of her that wanted to do just that—a part that still saw Aura as the teacher who had saved her, as the one who had shown her the wonders of magic, who had, for a time, been the closest thing to a mentor she had ever known. But that part of her was buried beneath the layers of duty, responsibility, and the cold, harsh reality of the world she lived in.

The surrounding kingdom soldiers were all watching her.

She was a great human mage. If she faced a demon that had slaughtered countless humans and spared it out of personal desire, what would that say about the lives of those killed by this demon? What about those who might be killed by this demon in the future? Would their lives not matter?

"I'm sorry, Flamme…" Aura's voice trembled, her words barely audible over the pounding in Flamme's ears. "We were born as mortal enemies… We shouldn't have had any contact… Yet because of me… because I disguised myself and infiltrated your life… full of lies… but even so, I still want to tell you…"

Flamme's heart clenched as Aura's purple eyes—those once-bright, confident eyes—filled with a mix of pain, regret, and something that looked like longing. The weight of those emotions pressed down on Flamme, making it difficult to breathe. She had never seen Aura look so human, so vulnerable. And for the first time, Flamme couldn't tell whether Aura was simply mimicking human emotions or if she was genuinely feeling this anguish.

"Flamme," Aura continued, her voice growing weaker with each word, "you are my most outstanding disciple."

"..." Aura uttered her final words. Those words struck Flamme like a physical blow, knocking the air from her lungs. She stood frozen, unable to move, unable to respond, as Aura's breathing grew slower and shallower.

The vibrant purple of her eyes dulled, the light within them fading as the last remnants of life slipped away. Aura's arms tightened around the white-haired elf, holding her close in a protective embrace, even as her own life ebbed away.

And then, there was silence.

"Aura…" Flamme's voice broke as she spoke the name, a name she had once spoken with such reverence and now with such despair. "No, no, no, no!!!"

The dam of emotions she had been holding back shattered, and Flamme collapsed to her knees, her body wracked with sobs. Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision as she covered her face with trembling hands. The grief that had been simmering inside her for years, buried beneath layers of anger and hatred, now erupted with a force that left her shattered.

She knelt in front of Aura's lifeless body, curling up as if trying to protect herself from the pain that was tearing her apart from the inside. Her voice, broken and desperate, echoed across the battlefield.

"Don't, I beg you! Aura, don't die… don't die in front of me… Why… why did you have to say such cruel things to me!!"

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Okay, with this, I declare this book finished. What do you all think about this chapter? Isn't this a happy ending? The bad guy, the demon, has been defeated and killed, while the good guy, the human, wins. Isn't this such an ideal ending? "Where's Serie?" you ask? Oh, she's busy dealing with diarrhea, no need to worry. As I've mentioned in the review of this book, this story is just focused on Aura's happy-go-lucky journey, hehehe~

Alright then, it's time to prepare a new fanfic with a different series...~