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Chapter 159: A Game of Time
The cave crumbled to ash under Alya's magic, and the last remnants of Shurahart's presence were utterly destroyed.
Yet the doubts lingering in Kurtz and Serie's hearts refused to dissipate.
"He escaped quickly," Serie observed as the final traces vanished, her voice cold. "If his ability to foresee the future holds even a grain of truth, then finding him - if he wishes to remain hidden - will be nearly impossible."
"C'mon, Serie, passive waiting has never been our style." Kurtz sheathed Orger. "They dared to reveal themselves and target you because they believe they have a chance. We've been silent for too long, so long they've forgotten why they should fear us."
Serie met Kurtz's gaze, and a thousand years of understanding passed between them in an instant.
She nodded slightly. "Then we'll remind them."
After a millennium in seclusion, the legendary elven saint Serie stepped once more into the outside world.
The news struck like a boulder cast into still waters, sending ripples across the entire continent.
When Serie appeared in the elven kingdom, the whole nation was in uproar.
Serie, the great saint who brought the Age of Mythology to its end, held prestige equal only to that of the legendary warrior monk Kraft.
And now, she had returned.
Her mere existence served as the strongest reassurance for elvenkind.
Kurtz, by contrast, maintained a far lower profile.
He wore an inconspicuous cloak with a deep hood shadowing most of his face. If any elves in the kingdom still recognized him, it would complicate matters considerably.
Serie tactfully avoided introducing him in detail, referring to him only as a traveling guard she'd encountered on the road.
The name "Godslayer Kurtz" carried too much weight and would draw too much attention.
What they needed was to find traces of the demons, not terrify them so thoroughly they'd burrow underground and never resurface.
Kurtz understood well: if the demons came ot know he still lived, the truly powerful among them would only hide deeper.
The two began touring the continent, searching for any sign of demonic activity.
The results proved disappointing.
The demons seemed to have evaporated overnight.
Occasionally, they'd encounter some scattered demons, but these were all newly manifested ones, incapable of providing useful information.
Those moderately powerful demons that had terrorized elven villages vanished as though they'd never existed.
No trace remained behind.
"They've gone too deep underground."
Standing in a desolate wilderness, Serie gazed at the gray sky, her tone carrying rare helplessness.
"Failing to kill that demon was a big mistake. He likely saw our movements and ordered all demons to hide beforehand. And now he's waiting, for who knows how long."
Kurtz fell silent, his fingers rubbing together unconsciously.
He could sense an invisible miasma enveloping both Serie and himself, yet its source remained hidden in darkness with no clear avenue of approach.
Shurahart's strategy was elegantly simple: use endless time to outlast the limited lifespans of mortals.
Against such tactics, Kurtz's predictive magic proved useless.
After all, his prophetic abilities weren't innate like Shurahart's, but derived from Orger, a nearly passive form of foresight.
Naturally, such magic couldn't actively locate hidden demons.
If it were anyone else, he might have been obviously defeated by this approach, ending up with the same fate as Yoriichi Tsugikuni: dying alone with lingering regrets of both past and future.
Unfortunately for the demons of this world, Kurtz was not anyone else.
He was Yoriichi transformed into a demon. Their little plan was doomed from the start.
Serie and Kurtz continued their search, though instead of searching, it was more of living old days, travelling together on the continent. During their search, they passed through the human kingdom Norn had established long ago..
What had once been a modest city-state had blossomed into a vast empire.
The royal capital, originally no larger than a town, now sprawled as a magnificent metropolis.
In the capital's central square stood a statue of King Norn the First. His achievements were inscribed on the pedestal, including, naturally, the legendary tale of fighting alongside the elven saint, Serie, and the Godslayer, Kurtz.
Seeing the ideal nation they'd once fought for developing so positively offered rare comfort in their long lives.
"Norn did well," Kurtz murmured, his voice so soft only Serie could hear.
Serie hummed acknowledgment without turning, though a smile flickered in her eyes.
They disturbed no one, departing the prosperous city as quietly as any ordinary travelers.
Time pressed forward, merciless and inexorable.
One year. Two years. Five. Ten.
Kurtz and Serie moved across the continent like phantoms.
Though many evil doers, demons, humans, and any other fell wherever Serie traveled, the true target they sought remained concealed in deeper shadows.
Moreover, Kurtz could clearly sense his current body was reaching its limits. Though currently there is not much reaction, when the day comes, rushing into the resurrection hastily would be very dangerous.
Serie noticed as well, or rather, she'd been carefully tracking Kurtz's remaining time all along.
After a long silence, she finally spoke. "Kurt's Let's go back."
Kurtz paused, meeting Serie's gaze. In her eyes, he saw the same helplessness he felt.
"It's meaningless, Kurtz." Serie's voice was soft but resolute. "He's playing a waiting game with us."
"Even if we continue searching for twenty, fifty years, we might only catch some useless pawns, but never the one that truly matters. Your reincarnation is more important. As long as you are alive..."
She left the sentence unfinished, but her meaning was clear.
As long as Kurtz lived, as long as he could continue reincarnating, that demon was destined to lose this game.
Kurtz and Serie held each other's gaze for a long moment before he finally sighed. Now he felt certain.
That demon was or might truly be Schlacht of the future. Only that demon could be so cunning, so cautious, so patient.
"Alright," he agreed. "Let's go home."
They returned to their secluded cabin deep in the forest, as though concluding a long and fruitless journey.
Time in the forest remained unchanged. Alya had long since matured into an accomplished elven mage, and she greeted their return with unbridled joy.
In the years following their return, Kurtz continued his magical studies, making increasingly refined preparations for his next reincarnation.
Serie occasionally ventured beyond the forest to teach magic to those with talent, though she never formally accepted disciples as she had with Alya.
Both lay dormant, quietly accumulating strength, waiting.
Waiting for the enemy lurking in time's shadow to bare its fangs once more.
Waiting for the next reincarnation to begin.
Waiting for the birth and emergence of those familiar figures yet to come.
Kurtz reclined in his rocking chair, gazing at the verdant landscape beyond the window, lost in thought.
'What will the world look like when I wake up next time?
And time flowed on, silent and unrelenting.
[End of Chapter]
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