What is that?
The moment Miriadel produced the special item, the attention of every demon was stolen; they could only stare, unable to even move.
Alarms blared in their minds, an instinct to stop her, yet their limbs were rigid.
Using this as a medium, the short-haired elf girl cast her magic.
An illusion of a city abruptly appeared in the sky, like a mirage, gradually overlapping with the small, golden-glowing town. Reality and dream intertwined, twisting bit by bit.
Everyone felt a tremor in their minds, a voice in the depths of their hearts telling them this was a dream.
But they couldn't tell the difference.
In an instant, an indiscriminate, super-massive spell enveloped everyone, including the victims of Diagold, placing them all on the threshold between truth and falsehood.
They couldn't even describe what state they were in.
Fortunately for the demons, the inexplicable stiffness vanished. In turn, Miriadel's tentacle medium also disappeared.
Both sides returned to a standoff, yet neither dared to act rashly. A silent tension filled the air.
Finally, Grausam broke the silence: "We are in an illusion. The trigger was her, but the caster is Frieren. This is some kind of failsafe."
"Let's try killing her first."
"—Frieren, you have to wake up! I can't hold on for much longer!"
Miriadel tumbled and rolled, wretchedly dodging a magical bombardment while complaining, "Shouldn't this have instantly sent us into the dream?"
If they were fully drawn into Yharnam, it would be her home ground.
However, the shadow above was overlapping far too slowly, dawdling along. Who knew how long it would take?
In any case, she wouldn't last that long. In a full dream state, she would have an extra life, but if she died now, she would be truly dead.
"Apologies, the main body has also run into some trouble. I will help you stall until Yharnam fully descends."
"Rest assured, I will activate the Soul-Splitting Aegis for everyone in the dream, resetting the effects of the Diagold curse. Everyone will be saved."
"Who?"
Following the voice, she saw it was the replica, gradually being freed from the curse.
The gold faded, and as it recovered, its arms were rapidly regenerated by Sun Healing, completely unscathed—another effect of the Soul-Splitting Aegis's dissolution.
Even Macht, who had been repeatedly countered, frowned slightly.
The demons were on high alert, not just because things were frequently deviating from the plan, but because something was off about the Water Mirror Demon.
Its eyes were sharp and radiant. Strange, wasn't the intelligence report just a puppet? A slightly strong one, perhaps, but its current oppressive aura was even more terrifying than at the start.
She tilted her head, her limbs twitching a few times with an uncoordinated, eerie feeling, as if she were just getting used to controlling them.
"A splintered soul's consciousness has reawakened within me."
As soon as the words fell, her previously wild and unrestrained magic reconverged, focused to a single point, becoming so subdued that one might think they were mistaken, that this was just an ordinary magic apprentice.
But everyone knew this was the genuine article; only the real one could control her aura with such precision.
"Frieren?"
"It's me, Adel. There's more than one splintered soul like me. Just think of me as fighting alongside you."
"What's the situation with the one sleeping in the room?"
"It's quite complicated. She was already in a slumber when she was charmed, allowing an Old God to invade her consciousness."
"She planned to withdraw to reality to recuperate but was then attacked, so she could only enter a deep sleep for self-preservation... But don't worry, she can handle it."
"It never rains but it pours. Still, I'm very glad you could come."
Even knowing that her combat power would be vastly different using the Water Mirror Demon's body, it was enough to lift one's spirits. That presence was unmistakably her.
The demons faced a formidable enemy, completely unable to comprehend how Frieren could still fight. How was it possible? It was unheard of.
Such bizarre magic was worthy of her status as a mage from the age of gods.
Though young, this power had to be acknowledged. She was more mysterious than anyone present.
Bloodflame Blade.
One hand wielded an ice-enchanted sword that inflicted bleed status.
Her other hand swung a staff, casting Sorcery: Rancorcall.
From the very outset, she unleashed two of the most devastating types of power, showing absolutely no mercy.
This posture didn't seem like she was trying to stall; it looked like she intended a swift slaughter.
"It seems you were bullying Adel quite severely just now. Now, it's your turn to have a taste."
Her figure was colder than ever before, sending a chill down the spine.
Even the demons felt their bodies instinctively recoiling from the fight.
To be her enemy was surely a path to death, yet it was unavoidable.
"You, for example—"
Suddenly, Frieren appeared at Rivale's side. The latter reacted in time, swinging a full-powered axe that sliced through a large swath of the forest. Yet in that instant, she slid past with a quickstep, unleashing a sword stance slash that bloomed with blood.
He withstood it. The powerful physique of a warrior granted him immense resilience.
At the same time, the demon sorcerers' firepower arrived, only to be intercepted one by one by Sorcery: Rancorcall.
The scene was reminiscent of the earlier barrier offense and defense.
All their attack paths had been completely figured out.
With a momentary lapse in support, another blade cut a wound, and in a flash, blood gushed like a spring. Yet Rivale merely let out a gratified battle roar, not stopping for a moment, continuing his berserker-style assault as if nothing had happened.
"The wound is too shallow, this body is actually very weak—"
Suddenly, his movements paused. For some reason, the scent of alcohol lingered at the tip of his nose, and his vision blurred.
The battle-hardened, older demon warrior naturally realized what was happening, but his body wouldn't obey his commands. He wanted to sober up but couldn't. He had fallen into Miriadel's trap.
Rivale roared, slashing towards the direction his intuition pointed.
Yet there was only empty air. In the corner of his eye, a white figure flashed past.
Swish!
The Bloodflame Blade pierced diagonally from the nape of his neck into his brain, easily cutting through bone and tracing a red arc.
Sheathing her blade and resetting her stance, Frieren's gaze was icy, while Miriadel stood by her side, blocking the attack route from the other flank.
The two covered each other and completed a clean, efficient kill.
Behind them, Rivale's tall figure crashed to the ground, lifeless.
Upon his death, he immediately transformed into a bloody spirit of vengeance that clung to the blade and shrieked, a horrifying sight.
The strongest warrior of the demons had fallen.
The fluid coordination stunned the decapitation squad.
They had been mentally prepared for Frieren's sudden awakening, but they never expected a mere counterfeit replica to possess such combat strength.
It had already transcended the shackles of a fragile vessel; a master at the pinnacle of their art cares not for their environment.
Miriadel took a deep breath of the lingering alcoholic aroma, getting a kick out of it, and laughed heartily:
"Since we were little, how many times have we fought together like this?"
"It has been a long time."
"A century. It's truly been a while since we fought side-by-side. I originally thought I was a goner. Thankfully you were here. I owe you again."
"You can repay what you owe right away. When we get to Yharnam, remember to awaken my main consciousness inside."
The two exchanged a smile, everything left unsaid.
This resonance that transcended friendship, a bond of life and death, was what made it so enjoyable.
An elf was truly fortunate to have a companion who could ignite their passion at any moment.
The demons would never understand, which is why they will all lose here.
"This situation doesn't deviate from the prophecy about Frieren's dangerous state, but Schlacht didn't tell us she's still this strong."
Grausam still wore that detached expression unique to demons, yet even the stiffest face couldn't hide the thick stench of cowardice.
It was too terrifying; she had killed Rivale in just a few exchanges.
His claim of being a veteran wasn't just talk; he was an elder even among the demons.
His battle record was glorious, his kills innumerable. He was an iconic figure, one of the few among the loosely-organized demons who had the prestige to rally others.
Now he was gone.
He died under Frieren's blade.
Even Grausam's brow furrowed tightly as he immediately cast a layer of magical protection on everyone.
"From what you're saying, you can undo my Diagold?"
Compared to the other demons' vigilance, Macht was more concerned about his own magic, asking on the spot with the sincerity of an academic exchange. Frieren, who intended to stall for time anyway, offered a welcoming reply:
"Correct. The soul takes precedence, and the body changes its state according to the soul—this is a theorem discovered by my apprentice, Flamme."
"I couldn't change the physical body, so I never realized it, but she completely perfected the Soul-Splitting Aegis. She might even bring back Light-Reversal Magic."
"I'll remember that human."
Hearing this, Miriadel's mouth twitched, and she looked at her childhood friend with a hint of reproach: "While I understand your pride as a master, don't put so much pressure on the kid. She's been targeted by the strongest of the Seven Sages of Destruction. That's terrifying."
Frieren replied with even greater surprise, "Can't I just kill Macht?"
"That's true."
"You've had too much to drink."
"Besides, there aren't many strong enemies left for Flamme to train against. They'd better be worth killing."
"Grausam, how many people do you plan to lose here? There's still time to run."
"That's right, I've heard that demons cherish their lives. If so, there's no need for you to fight to the death against an unbeatable foe."
Miriadel also offered her advice.
The two, thinking in perfect sync, understood one thing: the overlapping of Yharnam and the town was irreversible, and the dream stage was indeed necessary to break the Diagold curse.
But if demons were mixed in, it would inevitably add variables. It was best to drive them away.
As soon as this was said, some demons indeed looked ready to retreat.
However, Macht and Grausam remained unmoved. These two would likely enforce discipline.
If they were mentally controlled or turned into gold on the spot, it would be disastrous.
So, in the end, their comrades didn't dare to flee.
As expected.
Under the Demon King's orders and with the All-Knowing One's meticulous planning, they had to give their all in this battle no matter what.
If they fled so wretchedly after such minor losses, wouldn't they be punished just the same?
It was better to fight to the death; there was no other choice.
Both sides understood that a few words would not make the other leave, just as Miriadel would not betray Frieren to save her own skin.
"What a pity," the white-clad girl said gravely. "I'll have to kill a few more before we enter the dream."
"Don't get too arrogant, even if it is you."
Some impatient demons took the initiative to attack, their figures multiplying into dozens—an illusion from Paradise Magic.
Realizing this, Miriadel proactively fell back to cast buffing incantations on her companion. At the same time, Frieren suddenly wielded two swords, each tracing the trajectory of collapsing stars, sweeping a fan-shaped arc of light in all directions.
Slash!
The two greater demons who had recklessly charged forward erupted in a spray of blood.
And it wasn't over. The soul damage and bleed status mixed within immediately seeped in, causing unbearable pain, as if even their bones were being eroded.
After a single exchange, they were forced to retreat, only to see Frieren point from a distance.
"Bloom."
The next moment, the crimson magic of Scarlet Rot erupted at her command. The already afflicted demons began to sprout Flowers of Aeonia from their wounds, tearing their flesh and mutating them.
Having originated from monsters, they were more susceptible to the rot than elves, and the effect was obvious.
The afflicted targets, just like the trees outside the town, sprouted mushroom-like fungal structures that eroded their life force, spreading continuously from their wounds.
The countdown to death had begun. The two attackers were terrified, their survival instincts wailing ceaselessly.
They looked towards Grausam.
"It can't be cured. We've studied this Scarlet Rot; it's a power similar to a curse. It can only be neutralized."
As soon as he finished, Macht, understanding, had the wounds covered in gold to inhibit the spread.
Although the afflicted demons were not happy about it, being treated was a stroke of luck amidst misfortune. At least it didn't impede their movements, though their magic circulation became sluggish...
The scent of alcohol rode the wind.
Suddenly, that thick, drunken aroma washed over them, and they subconsciously steeled their minds in defense.
But they guessed wrong. The next move was Frieren's hellfire magic, using the alcohol to erupt with damage exceeding her body's own magical power.
A massive fireball spread out, the fierce flames burning away the oxygen, causing the hair on their bodies to ignite.
Even the buildings at the town's entrance were destroyed along with it.
They didn't care how many buildings in the elf settlement could be preserved; it was meaningless, mere worldly possessions.
Since you were so kind as to "protect" everyone with Diagold, don't blame us for being reckless.
Collapsing Stars!
Simultaneously with the great explosion, a streak of purple-white magic seized a greater demon. The latter immediately struggled but could not resist the pull of gravity and was instantly thrown into the center of the explosion cloud.
It was too fast. No one had time to react.
Only then did they understand this combo wasn't for large-scale destruction, but to target one individual.
Not even a scream could be heard; they just felt a life force rapidly vanish.
"That's the second one."
Frieren emerged from the flames, holding half a corpse that had been split in two from head to toe.
This was a warrior-class greater demon. What terrifying strength was needed to split one in a single blow.
So much so that the spattered blood stained her cheeks and shoulders red, which, combined with the white of the Water Mirror Demon's shell, created an intensely murderous aura.
Beside her, Miriadel's dress was also stained with blood, her bestial eyes shining brightly.
Who exactly was the hunter here?
Standing together, they exuded immense pressure on the demons.
In a blink of an eye, the decapitation squad had already lost two greater demons.
Coupled with the earlier Scarlet Rot outbreak, they had lost half their manpower, and the situation grew ever more unfavorable.
These two elves were at the pinnacle of power, coordination, and reaction time.
No one could have predicted that the combined force of Miriadel and Frieren could achieve such a result.
They claimed to be stalling, but in reality, they were seizing the time to kill.
"You handle resisting the dream, Grausam. I'll hold them off."
Macht proactively took a step forward, giving the remaining greater demons a meaningful look: protect the strongest sorcerer.
If they lost the cover of illusions, even escaping the human kingdoms would be difficult.
He had to act.
"I hear you're the strongest of the Seven Sages of Destruction," Miriadel said with a playful arch of her brow. "Now that your Diagold has been broken, how much skill do you have left?"
"A demon who can only rely on an absolute curse cannot become a first-rate powerhouse."
"What arrogance. You have no idea how strong Frieren and I are."
As she spoke, she even nudged her childhood friend with her elbow.
The latter sighed helplessly.
Getting cocky when things are going your way, huh? Some habits never change.
Fortunately, if the drunken elf fought alone, she would still be cautious.
But with a powerful teammate, her tail would shoot up to the sky.
After killing two greater demons, she didn't even give Macht of the Golden Land a second thought.
"It won't be that simple."
"—I have a high margin for error, so I'll be on the front line. I'll test the waters first, then slowly start stalling."
Frieren hadn't forgotten that the ultimate goal was the overlapping of Yharnam.
Taking out two of them with a full-force assault while the Seven Sages were caught off guard was no small feat.
A serious Macht would not be so easy to deal with; this body wasn't enough.
She glanced up at the mirage above. Its base had already merged with the town's clock tower. It probably wouldn't be long before everyone entered the dream.
Swoosh!
With a wave of his great sleeve, Macht unsheathed his golden blade.
With it appeared thousands of blades like starry butterflies, each one glinting coldly, honed sharp enough to slice through iron as if it were mud.
Anyone entering its range would be diced into a thousand pieces in an instant.
A golden version of Glintblade Phalanx, but one that emphasized the logic of demons: slaughter.
The flying blades poured forth all at once.
Seeing the unfavorable situation, Miriadel quickly retreated while using defensive magic, but Frieren was the type to emphasize defensive counterattacks.
With a crisp ping, a ripple deflected numerous golden blades as she extracted magic and formed it into a glintstone sword.
I see you, hidden behind the cover of golden dust.
As expected, the blue longsword clashed thoroughly with the golden blade. A deafening roar erupted—it was not just a contest of strength, but a collision of magic, stirring up clouds of rolling dust like a hurricane sweeping through.
During their brief struggle, Miriadel was not idle. With a bare hand, she summoned the Lightning of Ruin, forming it into a long spear and hurling it at the illusionist.
"I won't let you strengthen your mental resistance—"
The clever attack forced Grausam and his companions, who were focused on defensive measures, to stop.
Macht, locked in the struggle, was naturally distracted as well.
Parry!
Seizing the opportunity, Frieren suddenly slashed upwards in a brilliant arc, sparks flying.
In the nick of time, his cloak turned to gold, blocking the blow with the properties of an inviolable substance.
In a duel of masters, reaction is instantaneous. At that moment, he also launched a counterattack, his longsword swinging with unstoppable force.
The moment she made contact, she felt the terrifying force.
To be precise, her body couldn't mobilize extra magic to reinforce her resistance.
The white-clad girl was sent flying backward.
Miriadel, momentarily drained from having just thrown the lightning spear, was slightly stunned.
She extended her hands and caught her in a steady embrace.
Soft jade in her arms, and a floral fragrance. To think there would come a day she could princess-carry Frieren.
Today was full of blessings in disguise.
"Oh! So you're this light and soft?"
"Idiot, the Water Mirror Demon's body is at its limit. It was just a patchwork to begin with."
Even the usually stoic Frieren gave her childhood friend an eye-roll.
The latter regretfully set her down.
With that, all the tension was gone.
Curse bombardment!
Macht and Grausam's ranged attacks swarmed in an attempt to press their advantage, but against an expert of at least greater demon strength, it was ineffective and was neutralized with a single block.
Their movements grew more frantic as the mirage drew closer, yet their mental resistance remained unbolstered.
A large-scale illusion of this magnitude had never been seen before.
It might not even be an illusion, but more like a new world briefly overlapping.
Although the demons had the upper hand in strength, their uneasy hearts prevented them from using their full power.
The power gap between the two sides was not yet at a point where a winner could be quickly decided.
When this pair of childhood friends committed to defense, even Macht found it difficult to break through.
The situation showed signs of a stalemate.
The attackers unleashed a furious barrage—Diagold's flying blades, Paradise Magic's mental interference, and several other deadly spells from the other demons—yet they could not breach the defenders' iron wall.
Ripples flickered, like a sandbar in a rushing river parting the waters.
Using four ounces to move a thousand pounds was the perfect description of Frieren's actions at this moment, single-handedly neutralizing the storm-like demonic offensive.
With Miriadel by her side, she could focus entirely on parrying.
Clang, clang, clang!
The sparks from the friction were brilliant and dazzling.
She herself didn't even know she was capable of such reaction speed.
Her movements grew faster, more precise—a tension she hadn't felt in a long time.
Ever since she became strong, it was hard to avoid battles of pure stat checks, making it inconvenient to deliberately hone her skills.
This stage was perfect.
Seeing the white-clad girl shine so brilliantly, the demon side was dumbfounded.
Was there truly no way through with a pure frontal assault?
They wanted to be more aggressive, but they couldn't forget that Miriadel was constantly on guard, the scent of alcohol lingering around her.
It would be difficult to launch a direct sneak attack on Frieren while a top-tier great mage stood guard.
Nothing was going right.
If the curses had been effective, none of this would be a problem.
But today, both Diagold and the Paradise illusion had little effect.
Both of them had achieved a counter through soul magic.
So the elves had been preparing for a rainy day, researching ways to combat curses for who knows how long.
This was direct neutralization, not a "mechanically circumvented" reversal magic approach.
It was a new field of study.
This was troublesome.
Failing to break through meant handing the opportunity to the enemy.
Grausam instructed: "I have now applied a mental ward to all of you. This is the most I can do. You must hide in the dream and not even think about fighting."
"Conserve your strength and wait for the moment the dream dissipates. That is their home ground, so we will temporarily avoid a direct confrontation."
"The decisive battle will be in reality."
At this point, they could only trust in the illusionist's power; it was better than braving the unknown depths of the dream themselves.
It had at least served some purpose. They would see what came next.
The prophesied plan would surely be victorious.
The demon side proactively slowed their assault to deal with the increasingly overlapping illusory city.
The pressure suddenly reduced, the two elves also took a breath.
They looked up at the gradually merging city of Yharnam with complicated feelings. They really had to go back.
They exchanged a smile, sweeping away their unease, and held hands, fingers intertwined, hearing each other's heartbeat.
"We'll meet the Moon Presence, right?"
"You have to help me deal with it to activate my main body's consciousness."
"Right now, I'm at a stalemate with that thing. We just need to add one more weight to the scales of victory."
"But finding it in Yharnam won't be easy... There will be many bestial monsters interfering."
"Can you handle it alone?"
"Don't worry, I'll first awaken the splintered soul you have preserved in the Hunter's Workshop."
"Then I'll leave it to you."
With that said, Frieren and Miriadel witnessed the fall of the mirage.
It slowly overlapped from above, the intricate and beautiful Gothic architecture becoming indistinguishable from the town.
There could be no greater spectacle in the world than to see a city descend from the sky and merge, the boundary between reality and dream becoming blurred.
A mass of darkness enveloped their vision, accompanied by whispers and mocking roars, and gradually, consciousness faded.
For the elf settlement, all was silent.
______
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