Chapter 328: The Corrupt Sage Cried

After learning about the difference in time flow, Fllilien decided to minimize traveling to other worlds before her two remaining teammates’ lives ended.

She had always thought human lifespans pitifully short; even dwarves’ lives, though slightly longer, were but a few blinks—how could Fllilien waste time?

Hmm, though she was somewhat interested in the technique called Yin-Yang Art from the world of the realm-being everyone in the group called “Sister Zi,” she appeared infrequently, seemingly having entered long-term lurk mode for some major undertaking.

Fllilien wasn’t in a hurry; after all, realm-beings’ lifespans seemed equally long, perhaps even rivaling her own elves’, and according to Jia Qi, “seventeen” might mean “one chaos equals one year.”

The “Myriad Mirror” had few functions, but occasionally chatting in the group was amusing—gathering information about other worlds and drawing fresh inspiration from it.

Not only had Fllilien, with her vast magical knowledge, spontaneously invented minor spells worthy of the folk’s Top Ten Bizarre Magic list during idle moments—[Spell to Make You Want to Punch the Person in Front of You], [Spell to Turn Hair into a Mohawk], [Killing Knife-Hand Spell]—…

Yet what puzzled her most was…

Every time that person appeared, he demanded she take a screenshot of her newly taken disciple, Filen, claiming it was to observe the little spray-mushroom’s growth.

She didn’t understand his purpose, but Fllilien never cared much either way.

Just as the ten years spent with the hero Simer had felt long to humans, to elves, these moments now passed in the blink of an eye.

Could a moment span a hundred years?

…

“Year 24 of Simer’s Passing”

“Heta, there are indeed drugs that can extend human life—if you wish…”

Before Heta, whose face was withered and near death, Fllilien spoke calmly; she had come solely to visit him, and now, this monk once favored by the goddess had finally reached the end of his lifespan.

Beside the monk, now utterly bedridden and unable to move, the elf with silver hair in twin tails remained unchanged in appearance.

A look of reminiscence crossed Heta’s face.

“Cough… Fllilien, did you know… hearing you say that actually made me happy—that Fllilien would go out of her way to speak of such a small thing…”

Because Fllilien had not refused to take Filen as her disciple, Heta’s original prepared speech went unused; her purpose here was no longer to decipher the Sage’s grimoire or seek magic for resurrection and immortality, but merely to accompany her friend through his final years…

“...You will likely live a very long life; whether a second or a hundred years makes no difference to you, so measuring things by time is meaningless. The longer your life, the heavier the emotions you accumulate will, in critical moments, cause your body to act instinctively… I am glad—our journey changed you…”

Heta cast a gentle, elder’s gaze at Filen, now grown tall and graceful, and smiled with quiet satisfaction.

“It seems I am ready to return to the goddess’s embrace.”

“Didn’t you become afraid of death?”

“I lied.”

The meat-and-wine monk grinned with the triumph of a successful prank.

“If the chance arises, may we meet again at the crossroads of karma…”

Fllilien said nothing more; if what he said was true, then upon reaching heaven, she would see Simer again—and Heta too.

Of course… if she met a white-shirted man named [Hell] in heaven, she’d have to immediately contact the End-of-the-Century Iron-Masked Man from the other world.

…

“Year 26 of Simer’s Passing”

“Come, Filen.”

Having decided to teach, Fllilien naturally did not hoard her knowledge—she imparted to Filen every spell most useful in combat.

Though eighty years had passed since the demon king was defeated, monsters still ravaged the land, demon clans roamed freely, and danger lurked everywhere.

Only about two thousand magic-users remained across the entire continent—not merely due to talent, but because magic apprentices died at extremely high rates in real combat.

Yet now, Fllilien had confidence: under her careful guidance, Filen would survive to the end amid intense, brutal encounters.

“Lady Fllilien, where are we going?”

Filen asked, clutching her wooden staff behind her master.

“To meet a very strong opponent.”

…

“F…Fllilien?”

The former demon, once one of the demon king’s top magic-users, the Corrupt Sage Gual, slowly opened his mouth, staring in confusion at the elf before him—whose frame was visibly a full circle larger than his own…

Somehow, apart from the white robe with gold trim and pointed ears, she bore no resemblance to the elf girl who, with the combined strength of four, had barely sealed him—but he still recognized her…

“How long has passed…?”

Gual could not comprehend the situation—had he slept until the era of Astarts everywhere? If she were an elf, maybe she could live to the 40K era.

“Eighty years.”

Fllilien answered expressionlessly, then clenched her right fist—larger than a human skull.

In Gual’s eyes, a crimson star he had never seen before appeared—unbidden, he understood: it was the star of [Death].

“W-wait! Old man has just escaped! Aaaahhhhh—!” the Corrupt Sage roared in disbelief, his black magic coalescing at lightning speed, ready to unleash his signature spell and strike first.

But unfortunately…

One punch, thrown.

BOOM——————

A sound like mountains collapsing and oceans overturning erupted—explosive magic surged from Fllilien’s palm, a terrifying torrent instantly drowning the “standard attack spell.”

The Corrupt Sage Gual exploded.

Plop. Only half a skull and one eyeball, bulging from its socket in disbelief, remained.

“Lady Fllilien!”

“You’ve made a mess again!”

Filen strode forward, crushing Gual’s remains underfoot, then lifted the suddenly shrunken Fllilien with one hand, brushed the dust off her, and complained irritably.

In contrast to Fllilien’s [Hard Fist], Filen, under her tutelage, mastered a magic called [Soft Fist]—the very reason Fllilien believed she could protect herself.

“Let’s go…”

Stepping over Gual’s ashes, Fllilien gazed northward.

“We go straight—toward heaven.”

(End of Chapter)