*Spoiler*

I just realized that there are still 2 draft chapters left before wrapping everything up and moving on to the new arc. So chapters will continue to be published tomorrow and the day after. Enjoy~

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As Aura trudged through the forest, her thoughts were a tangled web of confusion and purpose, pain and determination. Each step was heavy, burdened not only by her own injuries but by the weight of Frieren on her back. The forest was thick with shadows, and the only sound that pierced the silence was the faint rustling of leaves underfoot.

'This path… it seems to be leading towards the Elven Village…'

Aura didn't know the way. It had been too long since she last sought out Frieren. The terrain around the Elven Village had also changed a lot, perhaps due to the war between humans and demons.

What made Aura realize this was the path to the Elven Village were the elven corpses she encountered along the way.

"Ah, was her name Sibele? One of the few mages in the Elven Village. When Frieren brought her to meet me back then, Sibele was showing off her grimoires, and Frieren blinded her with a flash spell, didn't she… Haha…

I remember she was at the level of a second-class mage. She was obviously not good at offensive magic, but she could still reach the level of a second-class mage. She was really amazing. Sibele's best spell was the magic that made books turn pages automatically and bask in the sun."

Aura, carrying Frieren on her back, stepped over the lifeless body of the tall elf, who was clutching a grimoire with only its cover remaining. The pages were scattered and cut in all directions like steel knives, embedding in the armor dropped by the dead demons and in the shattered but still thriving trees.

"So, the spell that turns the pages of a book automatically can be used this way... It's obviously not a magic suitable for combat, but it's forced to be used in combat."

Aura's voice was a hollow whisper, lost in the stillness of the forest. She glanced back at Sibele. The elf was leaning quietly against a tree, her chest pierced by a gaping wound from which thick, blackened blood oozed. Her lips, once a vibrant shade, were now blackened, and her face was pale, almost ghostly. Yet, despite the violence of her death, Sibele's expression was one of peace, her eyes closed as if she were merely resting.

Aura couldn't help but imagine the scene that had unfolded. Perhaps Sibele had managed to escape the village, but fate led her into the path of a relentless demon. In the ensuing battle, she had sustained a fatal wound—a vicious strike to the chest that spelled her doom. Rather than die in a frantic struggle, Sibele may have chosen to spend her last moments in peace, sitting beneath this ancient tree, her grimoire clutched tightly to her chest. Perhaps she had gazed out into the forest, seeking solace in the beauty of the natural world one final time.

If only someone had been there to offer her aid, to patch up her wounds, she might have survived. But no one came. Alone, she had slipped away, leaving behind nothing but a memory and the faint echo of her final thoughts.

Sibele was just as beautiful in death as she had been in life, her peaceful expression unmarred by the suffering that had led to it. There was no trace of hatred, no sign of struggle—only a quiet acceptance, as if she had made peace with her fate.

It was a stark contrast to the fate of demons. When demons died, their bodies disintegrated into ashes, leaving nothing behind—no expressions, no trace of the lives they once led.

"How strange."

Aura shook her head, trying to dispel the strange sense of melancholy that had settled over her. She had never cared much about human or elven corpses before. In the eyes of demons, the dead were worthless, their lives and deaths inconsequential. Demons cared only for the living, for those who could still serve their interests. The dead held no value.

But today, Aura found herself lingering, her gaze fixed on the still form of Sibele, as if searching for something she couldn't quite grasp.

She wondered why she was compelled to look, to think, to feel—emotions that were so painfully human.

Aura stepped over Sibele and continued walking forward, her heart heavy with the weight of the memories that refused to fade. 

Following this direction, Aura realized she had to pass through the entirety of the Elven Village to leave the forest. The thought was unsettling, stirring a mix of emotions she couldn't quite decipher. The village had once been a place of tranquility, a stark contrast to the chaos and destruction that now littered its grounds.

As she trudged forward, the forest grew eerily silent, the usual melodies of birds and rustling leaves replaced by an oppressive hush. The air was thick with the stench of blood and smoke, a grim reminder of the recent massacre that had taken place. Scattered along the path were more elven corpses, their bodies twisted and broken in death. Aura couldn't remember most of their names, but their faces were unmistakably familiar. Frieren had once dragged her along to meet every single elf in the village, introducing her to each with a warmth that Aura had found both perplexing and irritating at the time.

"They all accepted me, just like that… How naive," Aura muttered under her breath. The elves had been so trusting, so unguarded, and it baffled her.

"What a lazy group of elves… When you saw me, you should have run, yet one after another, you approached me, thinking I was a good demon because I hadn't attacked you?

I didn't attack you because of Frieren's command, that's all.

I've said before that a race like you who lacks vigilance will become extinct sooner or later," she whispered, stepping over another elven corpse.

She glanced up at the body, recognizing the lifeless form of an elf whose name she actually knew.

'Berdewin—when I first met him, I thought he was a strong warrior, but then I found out he had to rest after chopping down just one tree…'

Aura chuckled darkly, recalling that memory. Berdewin had appeared formidable at first glance, but his strength was superficial. Without the will to fight, without the desire to grow stronger, one's body would not follow suit. Being a warrior required more than just physical training—it required a certain mindset, a hunger for battle, a willingness to face death. Without that, all the training in the world would amount to nothing.

'—That's why Berdewin couldn't even protect his firewood. When Frieren burned it all to ash with a fire spell, he was furious but couldn't catch me and Frieren… Hahahaha… The tree he had worked so hard to cut down was burned up directly. Berdewin worked in vain for a long time.'

Aura stepped over his headless corpse, still standing with an axe in hand, as if the elf had died mid-swing, forever frozen in that moment of futile effort. It was almost poetic in its absurdity.

"You're not supposed to hold an axe like that… Well, whatever. As long as you can kill the enemy, swing it however you like."

Finally, Aura entered the Elven Village. 

Aura's steps slowed as she took in the destruction. The Elven Village, which had once been a sanctuary of peace and serenity, was now nothing more than a battlefield's aftermath. The elves had tried to defend their home, but it had been a losing battle from the start. Everywhere, there were marks of extinguished fires and elven corpses, so disfigured it was impossible to tell what they had looked like in life. 

The place was in ruins. Aura couldn't even connect it to her memory of the Elven Village as a peaceful paradise.

This was her second visit here, and once again, she was with Frieren. But this time, there was no one holding Aura's hand, no one pulling her along noisily, dragging her to every corner of the Elven Village. The once vibrant place was now cloaked in an eerie silence, a stillness that pressed down on her with a suffocating weight.

Frieren had fallen asleep on Aura's back, her breathing soft and steady, unaware of the devastation that surrounded them. The village was eerily quiet.

In the center of the village, Aura's gaze was drawn to a gruesome sight—a mound of elven corpses, piled haphazardly atop one another. Some bodies were intact, while others were mangled beyond recognition, their limbs twisted at unnatural angles, their blood staining the earth beneath them.

Demons wouldn't be excited by the bodies of their enemies. They had no habit of desecrating corpses. The elves' bodies were probably piled up like this for a headcount or to provoke any surviving elves to reveal themselves.

Aura saw another familiar elf.

'Ah, your name is Elsa, right? Long time no see. I have the deepest impression of you. After all, you look alike with Frieren. Are you sisters, or mother and daughter, or some other relation? You really liked your rice field, didn't you? Last time we met, you were busy with it. But now, that field probably won't grow any more seedlings.'

'Oh, by the way, don't you like my horns very much? But this time, my horn was accidentally broken. What a coincidence... It was the horn that you bit and left a tooth mark on last time. If I had known, I would have let you take a bite of it. It would have been broken anyway.'

Aura stopped in front of the pile of elf corpses, where Elsa was lying quietly with her hands crossed. Despite the horror of the scene, something about Elsa's final position seemed almost serene. It was as if she had accepted her fate with a quiet dignity, even in death. 

Green sprouts were emerging from between her palms.

The roots of the seedlings grew into the bodies of all the elves. This was probably some kind of magic, Elsa's unique magic, though Aura couldn't understand it.

"Hello, Elsa."

Aura tilted her head and greeted the white-haired elf lying there with closed eyes.

There was no response for a long time.

Aura finally confirmed that Elsa was indeed dead.

For some reason, Aura suddenly felt a sharp pain in her heart. It wasn't a physical pain, not like the wounds she had endured in battle. It was something deeper, something she couldn't quite name.

Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to her knees beside the mound of corpses.

"Huff… huff… huff…"

She gasped for breath, her chest heaving as she struggled to understand what was happening to her. Her body felt heavy, weighed down by an emotion she had never experienced before.

"What is this feeling? I don't feel any severe pain, but why do I feel so uncomfortable that I can't even breathe??"

After some time, Aura felt a little better and stood up again. Her legs were still shaky, and her chest still ached with that unfamiliar pain, but she forced herself to rise. She looked at the white-haired elf lying peacefully among the other corpses, then at Frieren, who was still sleeping soundly on her back. Finally, she could tell clearly that it was Elsa who had died, not Frieren. The two had always looked so much alike, but now the differences seemed more profound.

She had to keep going and take Frieren away from this battlefield. The village was no place to linger; it was filled with death, memories, and now, a haunting sense of vulnerability that Aura was not accustomed to.

"Stop! You, the demon with the broken horn ahead!!"

Suddenly, a shout cut through the silence, jarring Aura from her thoughts. She turned her head sharply, her senses immediately on high alert. There, standing at the edge of the village, was a tall demon general. His presence was formidable, even from a distance. He wore heavy, imposing armor, and in his hand, he wielded a massive sword that gleamed ominously under the faint light filtering through the trees.

But what caught Aura's attention most were the green branches and buds that sprouted from the gaps in his armor. The branches looked unnaturally vibrant, their presence a stark contrast to the demon's grim appearance. There were also signs that these strange plants had been cut off in places, but they continued to grow, relentless and invasive.

'Hmmn, isn't that Basalt? Wasn't he supposed to be killed by Frieren?'

Aura narrowed her eyes as she recognized the demon before her. Basalt was a name she hadn't expected to hear again. She remembered hearing about his demise at Frieren's hands. Yet here he was, very much alive, or at least alive enough to stand before her.

"Weren't you supposed to be dead, Basalt?"

Basalt's eyes narrowed at her words, his expression one of confusion, "What are you babbling about, you broken horn? And why do you even know my name?"

His voice was deep, almost growling, filled with suspicion. He didn't recognize Aura, or perhaps he didn't care to. All he saw was another demon standing before him and pass safely by the elven mound without any adverse reaction. The heavy-armored demon named Basalt was astonished by the sight.

He shook his head dismissively. "Forget it. Why were you able to approach that place without being cursed by magic?"

'Could it be that the magic cast by that elf had already worn off?'

Basalt tentatively stepped toward the interior of the Elven homeland. With just this step, green branches began to grow on his right leg as he stepped into the Elven Village. Frightened, he quickly retreated and chopped off the newly grown branches on his feet.

Aura frowned slightly, glancing back at the mound of corpses. "I don't know. I just walked in. Maybe this magic selects its targets—"

"That's impossible. All demons will have green sprouts planted in their flesh and blood by this strange magic, even the demon sages are no exception! How could you have escaped?"

His skepticism was evident, but he didn't dwell long on Aura's apparent immunity. Demons were known to have unique powers, and perhaps, in his mind, Aura possessed some rare ability that allowed her to suppress the growth of the seeds buried in her body. It was an anomaly, but not one he was willing to waste time investigating.

Basalt's gaze shifted to the white-haired elf on Aura's back.

"Unknown demon, put down the white-haired elf you're carrying. She's still alive, isn't she?"

Basalt scrutinized Aura and the elf on her back with a piercing stare, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. He was fully alert, every muscle in his body tense, ready to react at the slightest hint of danger. The elf, even in her weakened state, could still possess enough strength to cast some last desperate spell. The thought gnawed at him, driving his caution to the point of paranoia.

"She's just a young elf. There's no need for such a big fuss. I'll kill her soon enough," Aura replied evasively, trying to sound nonchalant, as if Frieren's life was of little concern to her. Her tone was dismissive, though inside, she was anything but calm.

Unless absolutely necessary, Aura didn't want to clash with another demon. Her current physical condition wasn't good, and using too much mana could cause both her mind and body to collapse.

"There is no distinction between young and old elves. The elf on your back is a great enemy of the demons... or rather, all the elves in the entire elven village are." The heavy-armored demon watched Aura intently. Where Aura could not see, he had quietly pulled out his sword and put it behind his back, waiting for the opportunity.

Aura was stalling for time, but so was Basalt. The heavy-armored demon could see that Aura was not in a good condition. As long as the confrontation lasted a little longer, Aura would definitely reveal a flaw, and that would be the time for him to throw the sword to kill the broken-horned demon and the elf on her back.

"Although these elves are weak in overall strength," Basalt continued, his voice calm, almost conversational, "each of them has his or her own unique magic. Well... after all, they are a species that has lived for many years, so there are always one or two methods that surprise me."

Basalt spoke slowly, deliberately, his words laced with a hint of condescension. He knew that demons like Aura might see the value in capturing a living elf for experimentation. Their magic was ancient and strange, often full of hidden potential. But Basalt had no interest in such things.

His mission was clear: kill every last elf and anyone who dared to protect them. It didn't matter if they were fellow demons. Omniscient Schlacht's orders were absolute.

Aura's eyes narrowed slightly as she listened. Basalt was trying to provoke her, to bait her into revealing something. She could feel the tension building, the silent standoff growing more dangerous with each passing second.

"The massacre of the elves' village...were you also involved?"

"Yes, it was a very enjoyable hunt," Basalt said with a pleased laugh, his expression one of twisted satisfaction. He reveled in the memory of the slaughter, the thrill of the kill still fresh in his mind.

"..."

The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged with unspoken emotions. Aura didn't respond immediately, and Basalt's instincts flared. Something had shifted. The purple-haired demon had suddenly gone quiet, and he sensed that this was his chance.

He continued, his tone casual but with an underlying edge, "I was one of the first demons to enter the village. These elves didn't even try to run. They approached us, blade in hand, only realizing the need to fight back when they were being killed. Every elf I killed was like this. I don't know why, but all the elves in this village had let their guard down against demons."

"Was it because of me?" Aura murmured, almost to herself, her voice barely audible.

"What?"

Basalt didn't quite catch Aura's low murmur. He blinked in confusion, momentarily thrown off by her sudden change in demeanor. He hesitated for just a fraction of a second, his mind trying to process what she had said.

"I said, they trusted you because I am a demon!!"

Thud!!

As the piercing spell Zoltraak blasted through the heavy-armored demon, it tore through Basalt with a terrifying force. The spell cut him cleanly in half at the waist, his body unable to withstand the sheer power of Aura's magic. His armor, forged for the most resilient of demons, offered no protection against the overwhelming mana. The arms he had raised in a desperate, last-ditch effort to shield himself disintegrated almost instantly. The hardened muscles that had endured countless battles were incinerated in seconds.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The barrage of Zoltraak continued for over ten seconds, reducing the demon Basalt to ashes, leaving not a trace of his body behind.

As the final echoes of the spell faded into the eerie silence of the elven village, Aura collapsed to the ground. The sword that Basalt had managed to throw before his demise had found its mark, slicing deep into her right leg. The pain was immediate and excruciating, a searing agony that threatened to overwhelm her. The blade had nearly severed her thigh, cutting through muscle, bone, and sinew with brutal precision.

Aura gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay conscious as she assessed the damage. Blood poured from the wound, pooling around her as she struggled to keep her vision from blurring. She knew she didn't have much time. If she didn't act quickly, the blood loss alone could kill her.

Desperation fueled her actions as she summoned a simple melting spell, using it to fuse the shattered bone back together. The process was crude and agonizing, but it was the best she could manage in her weakened state.

The flesh and blood vessels, however, were beyond her immediate ability to heal. The wound was too severe, and her mana reserves were dangerously low. The best she could do was stop the bleeding, but the pain was relentless, a constant, throbbing reminder of how close she had come to death.

From now on, she realized with a sinking dread, she would have to crawl to move forward. Walking, let alone running, was out of the question.

"So much pain! So much pain! So much pain!"

Aura opened her eyes wide in disbelief, her purple irises were full of fear, she had a premonition that the backlash of obedience magic was coming again.

But this time, it wasn't the command [don't harm humans].

It was the command to [understand humans].

Why? Didn't this command, [understand humans], only take effect at the moment when Frieren gave it to her?

"What triggers the [understand humans] command? It's different from the other commands—there's no specific condition. Why is it triggered? Why now? Why here?"

Aura's voice trembled as she spoke, her thoughts racing in a desperate attempt to make sense of what was happening.

"Wait—what is this feeling in my heart?!"

It was a feeling in her heart, a strange, sharp pain that wasn't physical but emotional. Aura raised her head, her gaze drawn to the towering mound of elven corpses. Her eyes, once cold and calculating, were now empty, hollowed out by a deep, inexplicable ache.

For a brief moment, a strange feeling flashed through her heart—an emotion she couldn't identify, something that clawed at her insides and left her gasping for breath.

Aura clutched her chest, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps, her purple irises trembling violently as she struggled to understand.

"It's not pain, so why does it hurt so much?

Isn't the punishment for [understand humans] supposed to be pain? What is this feeling? Why does it hurt more than pain… making it so hard to breathe, I feel like I want to die…

No, no, no! I absolutely cannot die! I have to live! I must live!! No matter how intense the pain, I can endure it! I don't want to die! Absolutely not!!"

Aura screamed desperately.

And then, without warning, a tear fell from Aura's eye. The single tear startled her, freezing her in place.

Aura hadn't intended to cry. Demons didn't cry unless they wanted to. Tears were a tool, a means to an end, nothing more.

But this—this was different. She hadn't chosen to cry. The tear had come unbidden, a reaction beyond her control.

"Are these… tears?"

Aura incredulously touched her face, now inexplicably covered in tears, feeling the wetness, the saltiness.

"Why does it taste different from before?"

What am I crying for right now…

I don't understand…"

Since that moment, Aura had understood two human emotions: guilt and sorrow.

Chapter 56: Why Am I Crying?