???'s POV

The main chamber was shrouded in darkness, the only light seeping from the faint glow of magically lit candles lining the ancient stone walls. The air was thick with the weight of forgotten centuries, stagnant and cold, as if the very dungeon had ceased to breathe. I had sat here for centuries, perched on this decaying throne, surrounded by nothing but silence and shadows. Yet, my gaze never wavered from the greatsword that stood in the center of the room. My armor, once a testament to my honor, had dulled and tarnished, a stark, rusted contrast to the pristine weapon before me.

"How many years has it been?" I murmured into the abyss. I could no longer recall. Time had long since abandoned me, leaving nothing but a haze of memories—fragments of a life lost to the passage of centuries. The years had blurred into an endless stretch of waiting and longing, my mind anchored to a single, unyielding purpose. I could barely remember the face of the young paladin I once was, the man who had embarked on this noble quest in what felt like another lifetime. All that remained was the overwhelming desire—the need—to wield that sword.

Yet, there was a cruel irony in my vigil, a bitter twist of fate that gnawed at the edges of my sanity. The weapon, legendary for its purity and power, held a secret known only to those who had truly grasped its essence. In the hands of an ordinary warrior, it was merely a greatsword—impressive in weight and balance, but otherwise unremarkable. But when infused with pure mana, it transformed into something divine—a larger, ethereal blade of light, capable of cleaving through the very fabric of darkness, its power magnified a hundredfold.

I knew this truth, having devoted years to unraveling every legend, every scrap of lore surrounding the blade. I had obsessed over its potential, how it could turn the tide of any battle, how it could carve through armies with a single swing. And yet, here I was, a twisted mockery of my former self, forever barred from harnessing that purity. In this accursed state, the blade's true power would remain forever beyond my reach.

I was a fool.

But it wasn't just about the weapon anymore. The blade had become a symbol—a symbol of everything I had lost, everything I had sacrificed. Friendship, honor, humanity... All had been cast into the void in my relentless pursuit. And for what? To sit here, in this cold and unforgiving darkness, waiting. Waiting for a man who was once my closest friend—a brother, a man who, despite the passage of centuries, still haunted my every thought.

He would come; I was certain of it. He had been drawn to this blade, just as I had been all those years ago. It was only a matter of time before he found his way to me, to this forsaken place.

And when he did, I would be ready.

"How long will it be, I wonder... until I see him again?" My voice, once strong, was now a whisper, lost in the vast emptiness of the chamber.

"Y/n..."

...

...

...

Y/n's POV

We had recently arrived in the Klar Region, a land of lush forests, winding roads, and mountains that gave way to expansive fields of agriculture. The air was crisp, the sent of the soil filling our lungs as we made our way along the path. Not too far off, nestled among the greenery, a small village.

"You said this guy was a warrior, right?" Stark asked.

"He's a dwarf who stood guard over the next village for almost four hundred years," Frieren replied.

"Mistress Frieren, how long is their life expectancy?"

"About three hundred years," she answered, before adding, "He's a long-lived friend of mine. People around here call him—,"

"Old Man Voll," I interjected with glee.

Frieren and the others glanced at me with a mix of curiosity. "You've met Old Man Voll?" Frieren inquired, intrigued.

"You could say that," I teased, leaving them with more questions than answers. As we continued our journey, the landscape seemed to open, revealing a distant view of the village ahead. The thought of seeing Voll again after so many years stirred something inside me—a sense of nostalgia, but also a quiet anticipation. "It's nice though, being able to talk with someone who's lived long lives like Frieren and I,"

"I couldn't agree more, Y/n. Maybe we'll stay a decade or so," Frieren said with a playful smile.

"We're staying a week at most," Fern interjected sternly, cutting through the lightheartedness.

...

As we approached the entrance to the village, an old, short figure caught our eye—a man with a long, white beard and mustache, his face deeply etched with the lines of time. He wore armor that had seen many battles, a visored knight's helmet, and a red cape draped across his body. His broadsword, sheathed at his side, spoke of a lifetime of stories.

"Old Man Voll, it's been a while," Frieren greeted him warmly. The old dwarf lifted his head, squinting at us. "You see? I did my best with the stories but nothing compares to the real thing," she continued, her tone affectionate.

Stark eyed him skeptically. "This guy looks too old to stand up,"

"Remind me.... Who are you again?" Voll asked, seemingly forgetful.

"Come on, it's me, Frieren," she said, her voice half-amused.

"Ah, I remember you now," Voll said with a slow nod.

I stepped forward, smirking. "What's the point in acting so senile, old-timer?"

In a flash, I found myself face-first in the dirt, tripped by Voll's sheathed broadsword before I could react. The impact was swift, my pride taking a hit as much as my face.

"Is that any way to greet your former master, Y/n?" Voll's voice was filled with a mix of amusement and chastisement. "Arrogance is the greatest weakness in people and demons alike. You're lucky my sword was sheathed, young man,"

Groaning, I pushed myself up from the ground. "You know, I really should have seen that coming," I dusted myself off. "And don't call me young man. I'm older than you, codger,"

He couldn't help but laugh heartily.

"Master? This old guy was your master?" Stark asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"Indeed, he was. Not too awfully long ago," I replied with a nod. "Voll was my last mentor since before you've met me. He trained both Engel and I when we passed through here a few centuries ago,"

"Is that so?" Frieren's gaze flickered towards me, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "I never knew you took on apprentices," she remarked, her attention shifting back to Voll.

"Indeed," Voll interjected, his voice warm, but old. "After learning about Y/n's unique affliction, I thought there was little I could teach him as a warrior, so I decided to teach him as a dwarf,"

"As a dwarf? Sein repeated.

Voll smiled as I answered, "He taught me how to reinforce and enchant weaponry. It allowed me to make my sword magic resistant,"

"Oh, you know, I've always wondered about that," Stark noted.

Frieren's expression softened as she asked, "And what of Engel? How did he fare?"

Voll's face grew serious as he responded, "Engel was a bright young lad, full of promise and ambition. His skill in combat was exceptional, and he had the heart and resolve of a strong paladin. I was glad to teach him,"

Turning back to me, Voll inquired, "So, how did your journey go after leaving this village?"

I hesitated for a moment before answering, "Well, we never found the sword we sought, and a disagreement drove us apart. We split ways. He's long gone now, and I don't know where he ended up,"

"I'm sorry to hear that. But I'm sure you'll find him some day. He's likely resting somewhere serene and peaceful," Voll empathized.

"I hope so," I murmured, the weight of years and regrets settling on my shoulders.

"Well, it's good to see you again, Frieren, Y/n," Voll said warmly, breaking the somber mood. "Please, make yourselves at home,"

"Thanks," I grinned, appreciating the familiar comfort in his presence, as we all walked over to the entrance.

As we reached the gate, I stopped Stark in his tracks before he could proceed further. "Hey, what gives?" he protested, a note confusion in his voice.

"You're not coming with us," I said, a devilish grin spreading across my face. "You'll be in Voll's care for the week,"

"Oh, jeez, thanks," Stark sighed, resignation already settling in.

"Don't worry," I added, clapping him on the shoulder. "He'll make you a better warrior. But be warned, he doesn't play around. He'll work you like a kingdom-rented mule," I teased, leaving the boy to sulk with the old man.

The rest of us continued towards the carpenter's place to ask for firewood. "You're more than welcome to use the firewood," the carpenter said, his voice kind and welcoming.

Frieren turned to fern. "Fern, if we're going to be here for ten years, we'll need to find some work,"

"Mistress Frieren, we've discussed this. We're only staying for a week," Fern insisted.

"Okay fine..." Frieren sighed, her shoulders slumping in playful defeat.

...

Over the course of the week, the small village bustled with activity as the harvest reached its peak. The fields were both small and large. Frieren, Fern, Sein, and I spent our days alongside the villagers, lending our hands to the tasks that needed doing. The sun hung low in the sky as we worked, its warm rays casting long shadows across the fields.

Stark, on the other hand, spent his days training under the stern guidance of Voll. From dawn until dusk, the clank of steel echoed through the village as the old dwarf put him through rigorous training. Voll didn't hold back—he pushed the boy to his limits, even forcing him to carry a large boulder on his back, with Voll resting atop. I watched from a distance, a sense of nostalgia washing over me as I recalled my own training under the old master, as well as Engel's.

As the days passed, I found myself reconnecting with Voll in quiet moments. We shared stories of the past, reminiscing about old times and lost friends. Despite the years that had gone by, Voll remained as sharp as ever, his wisdom and experience shining through his every word.

Frieren, true to her nature, teased Fern relentlessly about staying in the village for longer than a week. "Imagine, ten years here wouldn't be so bad. It's hardly any time at all," she'd say with a mischievous grin, only to be met with a deadpan glare from Fern, who was determined to keep us on schedule.

By the time the week grew to a close, the village had become a place of warmth and familiarity. Stark, though exhausted, had grown stronger under Voll's tutelage, his skills honed and sharpened through relentless training.

On the final day, as we prepared to leave. We gathered our belongings and went for the northern gate, the exit to the village. Old Man Voll sat in waiting. "Goodbye, Voll. Take care," Frieren said.

"I'll see you soon, old-timer," I nodded to him. We then took our leave.

...

...

"I'm sorry sir, I'm afraid I haven't seen him,"

Sein sighed, tucking away his locket with a look of quiet resignation before returning to us. After leaving the Klar Region, we had continued our journey along the Rohr Road, a winding path that led north before splitting into two directions—one leading to our destination and the other to a place called Tür.

"What was that all about?" Frieren asked as we resumed our walk down the road.

"I'm looking for someone," Sein replied, a hint of determination in his voice. "I joined up with your party for a reason, remember?"

"Because you wanted to travel with a sexy older woman?" I teased, rolling my eyes.

Sein smirked but quickly grew serious again. "That's definitely part of it, but it's not the main thing. I'm travelling with you for this," he pulled out his locket, showing it to everyone. "An old friend. He left my village ten years ago, and it's time I got to see him again,"

Stark leaned in, his curiosity growing. "Woah, a photo. Those are rare,"

"A mage came through town, and he agreed to take a photo of the two of us," Sein explained.

"Do you have any leads on where he went?" Frieren asked.

"It seems we're following the same roads," Sein replied, his expression a mix of hope and resolve. "I've actually met several people who've seen him,"

"The Northern Lands are much smaller than they look," I noted with a shrug, trying to offer some reassurance.

"Precisely," Sein agreed. "We can probably keep going north and run into him eventually,"

"That was ten years ago. I'm surprised anyone remembers seeing him," Stark remarked.

"Well, it depends on if he had a lasting impact on those he's met," I said thoughtfully.

"He is the type to leave an impression," Sein admitted, his gaze distant. "Plus, he has a unique name,"

"I believe you mentioned something about a gorilla last we spoke of this," Frieren recalled.

"His name is Gorilla Warrior," Sein confirmed with a small smile.

"What was his real name, do you know?" Stark pressed.

"Hmm...his real name..." Stark trailed off, lost in thought as we continued our journey down the Rohr Road.

...

The conversation faded as we approached a smaller village nestled against the base of a large plateau. The village was peaceful, its quaint houses lined with well-tended gardens, while the towering plateau loomed overhead, casting a long shadow. Sein's resolve was unwavering as he approached a villager, hoping for a lead.

"Excuse me, did someone by the name of Gorilla pass through here in the past ten years?" Sein asked with a polite urgency in his voice.

The villager, a middle-aged man, recognized the name. "Oh, you mean Mister Gorilla Warrior? Aye, it was a long time ago, but I remember him. He saved our village by defeating a monster that had been terrorizing us,"

Sein's eyes lit up with hope. "Do you happen to know where he went after that?"

The old man scratched his head, deep in thought. "Hmm, it's too difficult to recall exactly. Ah! I remember now—Gorilla had a good relationship with the stubborn old woman who lives up on the plateau. You should visit her; she might know more,"

"Thank you," Sein replied with a grateful smile. We all joined him as we made our way up the steep path that led to the plateau's summit, where a solitary house awaited.

When we reached the top, I knocked gently on the door. To our surprise, it flew open with a creak, revealing an old woman with sharp, penetrating eyes. Her gray hair was tied in a tight bun, and she wore a brown cloak fastened by a black bow. Her demeanor was anything but welcoming.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice as harsh as the mountain winds.

"We were wondering if you had any information on Gorilla Warrior," Sein ventured, his tone respectful.

The old woman's eyes narrowed, a hint of mischief gleaming in them. "I'm a stubborn old woman, as you can see. I'm not going to give you that information for free, son,"

Sein exchanged a quick glance with us before asking, "What do you want us to do?"

A slow, calculating smile spread across her face. "Oh, I can think of a few things you could do to earn the information..."

From there, we were thrust into a whirlwind of errands, each more bizarre and exhausting than the last. The old woman's demands seemed endless—delivering packages to neighboring towns, sneaking past dangerous creatures to steal large eggs, picking rare flowers from the cliffsides, delving into dungeons to retrieve forgotten relics, slaying fearsome beasts that roamed the wilds, and gathering fruit from the tallest trees. Every task felt like a trial designed to test our patience and resolve.

The days stretched on, each one blending into the next as we toiled away under the old woman's watchful eye. Just when we thought we were finished, she would conjure up yet another task, sending us back out into the wilds.

It felt as though we were caught in a never-ending cycle of labor, each errand pulling us deeper into the woman's clutches. But through it all, Sein's determination never wavered. The thought of finding his friend kept him going, no matter how arduous the tasks became.

And so, we endured, driven by the hope that, at the end of it all, the old woman would finally reveal the whereabouts of the elusive Gorilla Warrior.

...

We stood at the door of her house, our bodies sore from the relentless errands she had given us. The old woman's sharp eyes studied us for a moment before she finally spoke.

"There's one more thing I want you to do," she said, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. She walked over to a corner and pulled out a wash bucket and a rag, handing them to Sein. "You're going to polish the statues of the heroes in the canyon. Come with me; I'll show you the way,"

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and began descending the steep, narrow stairs carved into the rock. We followed her down, step after step, until we reached the bottom of the canyon. The air was cooler here, and the towering cliffs loomed high above us, casting long shadows.

Before us stood two weathered statues, partially covered in moss and dirt. One was of a priest, his face serene and noble. The other was a warrior, tall and imposing, but familiar.

As soon as I laid eyes on the warrior, a realization hit me like a bolt of lightning. "That makes so much sense!" I exclaimed, mentally facepalming for not realizing it sooner.

The old woman and the others turned to look at me. "What does, Mister Y/n?" Fern asked with a raised eyebrow.

I couldn't hide my excitement as I pointed to the warrior statue. "Remember when we met Kraft? I told him he felt familiar to me, even though I'd never met an elf before Frieren,"

Frieren stepped closer, examining the statue with renewed interest. "I remember. What about it?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

"That's why," I said, pointing emphatically at the statue. "That's Kraft, along with somebody else,"

Stark leaned in, scrutinizing the statues. "Hey, you're right!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening in recognition. "It really is him!"

The old woman, however, was unimpressed by our discovery. She waved her hand dismissively. "Now, now, get to cleaning," she urged, her voice cutting through our excitement. "The statues won't polish themselves,"

Sein sighed but nodded, picking up the rag and bucket. As he began scrubbing the moss away from the stone figures, the rest of us couldn't help but marvel at the connection we'd uncovered. It was a small, almost forgotten piece of history, but it added another layer to our journey—one that made us feel just a little more connected to the heroes of old.

...

The evening sky was beginning to darken, painting the canyon in shades of twilight. The air grew cooler, and the chirping of crickets echoed through the stone walls as Sein finally finished polishing the statues. We could have helped, but the stubborn old woman strictly ordered Sein to do it by himself.

"Phew... we're finally done. That was a lot of work," Sein sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. His voice was heavy with fatigue, but there was a hint of relief in it too.

Frieren watched him with a hint of amusement. "If only it were a bronze statue. I could have used a spell to clean it up in seconds," she said, a teasing lilt in her voice.

The old woman approached, her keen eyes inspecting the statues with a critical gaze. "I made Gorilla polish it too, a while back," she said, nodding in approval. "You did a much better job than he did, though,"

Sein chuckled weakly, still catching his breath. "Yeah, fighting was all he was really good for,"

The old woman's stern demeanor softened into a smile. "Here, let me tell you more about him," she offered. Frieren, Fern, Stark, and I exchanged a glance and decided to give them some space, hanging back a little so as not to intrude on what was clearly a personal conversation.

Sein stood with the old woman for several minutes, listening intently as she spoke. We couldn't hear what was being said, but the look on his face told us that the conversation was important. When he finally returned to us, his expression was tinged with an almost bittersweet sadness.

"So, did you get any information?" I asked gently, sensing that whatever he had learned had stirred something deep within him.

Sein nodded, his eyes distant as if still processing what he'd heard. "I did. Tür," he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Tür?" Frieren repeated. "That's just a small trading village northeast of here. It's completely opposite of where we're headed,"

Sein sighed, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yeah... What am I going to do now?" he murmured, the weight of the decision ahead pressing down on him.

"For now, let's focus on getting to the crossroads before making a hasty decision," I urged.

"Well, she also said she has a cabin waiting for us, and we can use it as long as we like," Sein grinned.

...

Frieren's POV

The warmth of the fire crackled in the small cabin as Y/n and I sat side by side, poring over our grimoires. We had a blanket to cover our legs for extra warmth. The pages rustled gently as we turned them, the soft glow of the firelight casting shadows on the texts. Stark sat nearby, focused on sewing the holes in his outfit, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"I believe the crossroads to Tür is somewhere around the Offen Mountain Range, correct?" Y/n asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"That's correct," I replied. "If you continue on the Rohr Road through the mountains, you'll end up at Tür. We'll be heading west once we make it there, while Sein will continue north,"

Stark paused is sewing, glancing up at us. "Are either of you kinda bummed that he'll be leaving us soon?"

Y/n's eyes remained on the text in front of him as he answered, "Yes and no. I really do enjoy his company, but he has a goal he set for himself, and I want him to be able to follow through with it, and so does Frieren."

"That's a good way of putting it," I added with a smile, feeling a twinge of bittersweetness at the thought of Sein's departure.

The door creaked open, and Sein stepped inside, carrying an armful of firewood. "I come bearing firewood," he announced with a grin.

Fern followed close behind, her cheeks flushed from the cold. "And I come bearing dinner. You're all very welcome," she said, shivering slightly as she held up a small sack. "Mistress Frieren, my hands are freezing..."

"It has gotten cold as of late. Is winter approaching?" Y/n asked, his voice thoughtful as he set his grimoire aside.

"Might be," Sein said, tossing a couple of logs into the fire. The flames leaped higher, crackling and popping as they consumed the fresh wood.

"Ah! You monster!" Stark suddenly exclaimed, recoiling as Fern playfully pressed her icy hands against his cheek.

As we settled in to eat dinner, the mood was warm and peaceful. We shared small talk, savoring each moment with Sein before his inevitable departure.

"It's snowing," Fern observed, her gaze drawn to the window where soft white flakes drifted down from the darkening sky.

"Will we need to wait for winter to pass this time around?" she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

"Well, this time, there aren't any steep mountains for us to cross...yet. Unless a serious blizzard blows our way, we should be alright," I reassured her with a smile, watching the snow begin to blanket the ground outside.

Y/n leaned against the wall, his expression wry. "Frieren, you cursed us," he remarked.

"Hm?" I tilted my head, puzzled.

"You mentioned a blizzard, and now there's gonna be one," he said with a playful smirk.

"How could you be so certain?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a curse, Frieren," Y/n explained, his tone teasing but with a note of seriousness. "If an avoidable danger is named, then it shall occur. Isn't that right, Sein?" He elbowed Sein lightly, eliciting a chuckle.

"He's right about that," Sein agreed, leaning back in his chair. "There's been plenty of times where that's happened. One of them was when you first met me, Frieren. I said to myself that if there wasn't anything to stop me, I'd make it back to my village just fine, and then I fell into that bottomless swamp,"

"Well, we'll just have to see, won't we?"

To Be Continued...