Chapter 7 — Tearful Farewells Aren't Our Style
Three days had passed since Serie had judged Lain as "unqualified."
Early morning in Äußerst was shrouded in a thin mist. Lain changed into a neat set of formal clothes at the inn.
Although he hadn't passed the First-Class Mage Exam, attending the ceremony as part of Fern's entourage was still allowed.
However—
"I'm sorry, Lady Frieren, and Mr. Lain."
At the Magic Association's front desk, a bespectacled receptionist spoke in a strictly professional tone.
"By order of Lady Serie, Lady Frieren and the individual known as Lain the Great Liar are forbidden from entering."
"…Huh?"
Lain was genuinely surprised.
This development definitely wasn't in the script.
"Fern, Stark, you go on in."
Frieren, on the other hand, looked as if she had already expected this.
"Lain and I will wait outside. Anyway, ceremonies full of pointless chatter are boring."
"Then I'll stay with Lady Frieren and Mr. Lain."
Stark proved himself loyal, as always.
After Fern went inside, Frieren actually patted Lain on the shoulder with a hint of schadenfreude.
"So you managed to make her angry too, huh? What's with Great Liar?"
"I don't feel like talking to someone who's about to get a bruised shoulder later."
Lain snorted and walked off, leaving Frieren and Stark behind.
After all, Lernen was going to show up later to beat Frieren up—he had no intention of sticking around for that mess.
---
The next day, Frieren and the others decided to leave the magic city.
Before departing, Denken deliberately came over with Laufen to find Lain.
"Young Lain."
The old man looked energetic, dressed in a brand-new set of mage robes.
"Grandpa Denken?"
Lain was a little surprised.
He hadn't expected anyone to bother seeing him off.
"Although you didn't obtain the qualification, I still believe you were the most outstanding magic warrior in this exam."
Denken stroked his beard as he spoke.
"Lady Serie may have her reasons, but in my eyes, your strength has already reached the level of a First-Class Mage."
"Thank you for the compliment, sir."
Lain smiled.
"But unqualified is unqualified. Nothing to complain about."
"Broad-minded."
Denken nodded, a trace of approval in his eyes.
"The Northern Plateau is fraught with danger. The remnants of the demons are stirring again. Even with Frieren around, you must not let your guard down."
"I'll keep that in mind."
At this moment, Laufen stepped forward, holding a delicately woven rattan basket, and handed it over.
"Here."
Lain paused, then accepted it and lifted the cloth covering.
A rich, sweet aroma rushed toward him.
Inside the basket were more than a dozen freshly baked donuts, neatly arranged, sprinkled with powdered sugar—still warm.
"This is…?"
Lain raised an eyebrow, confused.
"Grandpa bought them!"
Laufen emphasized loudly.
"He said you'd get hungry on the road!"
Lain laughed, picked up a donut, and took a big bite.
Crispy on the outside, soft on the inside—the sweetness melted on his tongue.
"Delicious."
Chewing, he spoke a little unclearly.
"Thanks, Gramps. You've got great taste. You like sweets too, huh?"
Denken's shoulders twitched. He coughed lightly.
"Cough… yes. When you get old, you occasionally crave something sweet."
"I know, I know—it was Laufen's thoughtfulness."
Lain handed the basket to Stark beside him and looked at Laufen.
"I'll accept the sentiment. Next time we meet, I'll treat you to grilled meat."
"I prefer sweets."
Laufen turned her head away, but the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly.
"We should get going."
Frieren glanced at the sky.
"If we leave any later, we won't reach the next village in time."
"Take care."
Denken inclined his head.
"Goodbye, Laufen—and Grandpa Denken."
Lain waved without turning back and strode after the group.
Watching their figures gradually disappear down the road, Laufen finally looked away, lightly kicking a small stone by the roadside, her expression a little lonely.
---
Year 29 of the Sinsei Calendar.
Lain and his group arrived at a village called Fabel.
It was slightly larger than the village where Lain had first awakened. The houses were more orderly, and the place looked fairly prosperous.
As soon as they entered, an elderly man with glasses and a goatee greeted them warmly.
"Adventurers, are you looking for lodging?"
"Yes, and we'd also like to replenish our supplies."
Fern stepped forward and replied politely.
The old man's gaze swept over the four of them. When he noticed Frieren, he said,
"I happen to have a commission. Would you be interested?"
"A commission?"
Frieren's ears twitched.
Seeing her interest, the old man immediately brightened.
"Well, you see, there's a hero's statue in the village. After years of wind and sun, it's covered in dust. We were hoping a mage could help clean it and restore the hero's statue to its former glory."
"What's the reward?"
Frieren asked bluntly.
"The reward…"
The old man took out a small scroll from his robe.
"A spell for scratching an itchy back."
Frieren's eyes lit up instantly. She grabbed his hand.
"Deal!"
She then turned and headed straight toward the statue.
"Lady Frieren!"
Fern followed helplessly.
Lain and Stark exchanged looks and could only follow along.
On the way to the square, Fern couldn't help but sigh.
"As expected, there are statues of Lord Himmel everywhere."
Stark, meanwhile, said,
"These weird little commissions are actually kind of fun."
Lain just smiled without saying anything. The statue in Fabel Village was not of Hero Himmel.
Soon, the four arrived at the corner of the village indicated by the commission.
A tall bronze statue stood there, its surface covered with green patina and dust.
"Huh?"
Fern let out a soft sound.
"This statue… doesn't seem to be Lord Himmel."
The statue depicted an elegant middle-aged man, wearing an old-fashioned cloak, with a sword hanging at each side of his waist. A gentle smile rested on his face.
"This is the one known as the strongest hero—the Hero of the South…"
Frieren began explaining.
Lain had already walked up to the statue.
This was the second Southern Hero statue he knew of.
He extended his hand and, under Fern and Stark's puzzled gazes, gently touched the cold base of the statue.
Buzz—
A familiar warm current surged through his entire body.
Before his eyes, a blue virtual screen unfolded instantly.
> [Detected "Hero of the South" statue. Authority resonance detected… Synchronization initiated…]
[Synchronization complete.]
[Dual Sword Style has been enhanced!]
[Future Sight has been enhanced!]
[Congratulations! Talent acquired: Resilient Body]
[Remaining statue map unlocked!]
[Current ability acquisition progress: 10%]
Power surged through his limbs and bones.
Lain clenched his fist slightly, feeling the solid, grounded sensation brought by Resilient Body.
Muscle density. Bone strength. Everything had been noticeably reinforced.
Now, even taking a frontal charge from the Red Mirror Dragon wouldn't injure him.
That said, the increase wasn't as dramatic as before. The previous five percent had been a solid foundation; this felt more like building half a wall on top of it.
"Mr. Lain, what are you spacing out about?"
Fern's voice came from beside him.
"Nothing. Just thought the air felt nice."
Lain gathered his thoughts and replied casually.
After cleaning the Southern Hero statue, Frieren happily obtained the Back-Itch Scratching Spell. She walked along studying the magic, completely immersed in her own world.
Fern, like an overworked mother, carefully watched over her, afraid she'd trip.
Over the next few days, Lain and the others eliminated the Sword Demon in Count Tache's territory, passed through Mount Etowise, and soaked their feet in the open-air hot springs at the mountain summit.
Half a month later—
A continuous mountain range appeared on the horizon. The air grew increasingly cold and dry.
They had finally reached their destination—the gateway to the Northern Plateau.
A massive wall stretched before them like a natural barrier.
Beneath it lay a heavily fortified fortress city called Edel.
At the city gate, a squad of fully armed soldiers was strictly inspecting everyone attempting to enter the Northern Plateau.
"Stop! Who are you?"
A soldier captain stepped forward and blocked them.
"We're adventurers, heading for the Northern Plateau," Fern replied calmly.
The checkpoint captain scrutinized them carefully, his gaze lingering briefly on Frieren. His expression was stern, calculating, before he finally spoke in a cold, measured tone:
"The Northern Plateau is overrun with monsters. Extremely dangerous. According to Imperial law, only those who possess First-Class Mage certification—or those under the direct supervision of a First-Class Mage—may pass."
Without hesitation, Fern produced a rolled parchment from her satchel. She unrolled it smoothly and held it out.
"First-Class Mage. Fern."
The captain blinked, disbelief written across his features. He took the parchment and flipped it back and forth multiple times, his eyes widening in astonishment.
"It's real… this is… a First-Class Mage's certificate!"
The soldiers behind him murmured among themselves, their voices tinged with awe. Their gazes, once indifferent, now shimmered with respect.
Who would have thought that a girl no older than sixteen or seventeen was already ranked among the continent's elite mages? The realization seemed almost impossible, yet undeniable.
The captain bowed deeply, his posture stiff with reverence. "Lady Fern! Please allow passage for you and your companions!"
He motioned to his soldiers to clear the way, and the path through the checkpoint opened smoothly.
As the group stepped through the long, stone-lined passage, a cold wind swept past, carrying the unmistakable scent of snow and ice. The chill nipped at their faces and whipped through their cloaks.
When they emerged fully, the view stretched wide and breathtaking before them.
A vast plateau lay under their gaze, dotted with sparse conifer forests that creaked and swayed under the icy breeze. Snow-capped mountains shimmered in the distance, their slopes reflecting the sunlight so brightly that the air itself seemed to glitter.
This was the Northern Plateau. Rugged, unforgiving, and alive with danger.
Lain drew in a deep breath of the crisp, frigid air—and immediately felt his stomach protest against the sudden chill.
At that precise moment, movement flickered in the nearby snow.
From the edge of the forest, a group of creatures burst forth with terrifying speed. Their lithe, muscular bodies gleamed with frost, and their crimson eyes shone with predatory intent.
"Monsters! Iceclaw Leopards!" someone shouted.
Stark immediately assumed a combat stance, muscles tensing as he prepared to act. Fern raised her staff, a protective aura flaring faintly around her.
But before either could make a move, Lain reacted.
With a swift motion, the twin swords at his waist leapt into his hands. In the next heartbeat, his figure disappeared, vanishing like a phantom as he darted toward the monsters.
Stark only caught glimpses of afterimages weaving among the beasts, accompanied by the shrill whistle of blades cutting through the cold air.
Slash! Slash! Slash!
Three Iceclaw Leopards froze mid-step, their powerful limbs punctured by precise, fatal cuts. Sword marks ran across their fur, revealing the deadly speed and control behind each strike.
Stark's eyes widened in shock. He had known Lain was strong—but not this strong.
Killing three monsters renowned for both speed and defense in mere seconds?
Fern's pupils narrowed slightly as she gripped her staff tighter. With that level of mastery, Lain could—without much difficulty—take down even a First-Class Mage like her.
Even in Frieren's usually serene eyes, a subtle ripple of recognition appeared. She murmured softly, almost to herself:
"He's stronger than last time."
Lain sheathed his swords in a smooth, fluid motion. He turned back toward the group, his expression relaxed, a small, polite smile on his lips.
"Thank you all for looking out for me along the way," he said. "But this is where we part ways."
After unlocking the statue map, Lain knew that, aside from the Golden Land, Frieren's route would no longer intersect with the Southern Hero statues. From here onward, he would have to explore alone—strengthening himself until he could face archdemons, groups of demons, or whatever challenges awaited in the Land of Resting Souls. Only then could he find a way back to Blue Star.
"Lyn—"
Stark's voice faltered as he stepped forward, reaching to stop him.
But Frieren raised a gentle hand, smiling faintly.
"Then… goodbye," she said.
Watching Lain walk away, Fern looked toward Frieren, puzzled.
"Lady Frieren, why didn't we ask Lord Lain to stay? With a swordsman that powerful, our journey would be much safer."
Frieren's lips curved into a calm, knowing smile.
"As long as we keep moving, our paths will cross again someday," she said softly.
"Besides… tearful farewells aren't our style."
The wind from the plateau stirred around them, snowflakes drifting past in lazy spirals. The horizon stretched endlessly, a cold but beautiful reminder that the world was wide, dangerous, and waiting for those bold enough to explore it.