Early Chapter, hope you like it.

Chapter 33: Hello, Linie

The forest around their campsite had gone quiet in that particular way forests do right before dusk fully commits to becoming night, the birds finished with their business for the day and the insects not yet warmed up for their evening shift. Subaru wandered away from the small fire pit Übel had already started arranging, muttering something about needing more wood before either of them froze to death, mostly because standing near Übel while she sharpened her staff with an unnervingly cheerful hum was starting to feel like tempting fate.

She picked her way through the underbrush, snapping a few dry branches off a fallen log, when a strange, prickling sensation crawled up the back of her neck. Familiar. Not in a comforting way. More in the specific way that made every muscle in her body tense up at once, the kind of feeling she'd learned to associate with things that were about to complicate her life significantly.

She slowed her steps, arms full of half gathered firewood, senses stretching outward the way they did whenever something demon shaped happened to be nearby. Sure enough, a short distance ahead, sitting calmly beneath the wide branches of an old tree, was a figure that definitely hadn't been part of the scenery a moment ago.

Subaru set the firewood down slowly, quietly, ready to bolt the second anything looked remotely threatening. She crept closer, muscles coiled, prepared to leap backward the instant this stranger so much as twitched wrong.

The figure looked like a young woman, sitting with her legs folded neatly beneath her, posture relaxed in a way that felt deliberately unthreatening. Her hair was extraordinarily long, a dull greenish blue that spilled straight down past her waist, with heavy bangs framing narrow eyes currently curved into something that looked almost like a smile even while closed. Two small white horns peeked out from the crown of her head, easy to miss if you weren't specifically looking for them, nothing like the massive curling things Subaru remembered jutting from Rivale's skull. Her clothing looked more suited to a scholar than a fighter, a flowing, pale dress layered under a long reddish brown coat, with a white scarf wrapped loosely around her neck like she'd thrown it on without much thought and it had simply decided to look elegant anyway.

Subaru approached carefully, weight balanced on the balls of her feet.

"Hello," she said, keeping her tone as neutral as possible, betraying nothing.

The girl opened her eyes properly, revealing a calm, pleasant expression, and looked directly at Subaru with an unmistakable flicker of recognition.

"Oh, hello, Linie."

Subaru wanted to physically slap her own forehead. Why. Why did every single demon she encountered out here immediately assume she was Linie. Did they all get the same memo. Was there some kind of demon newsletter circulating with an outdated photo attached? Or more accurately: they were the old friends of the original Linie?

"It has been a while," Subaru said instead, deciding on the spot that arguing her actual identity with yet another stranger sounded exhausting, and if playing along got information faster, that was a price she could pay. "How have you been?"

The girl's smile widened slightly as she studied Subaru's face with unsettling thoroughness, the way someone might examine a painting they hadn't seen finished yet.

"I have been conducting research," she said pleasantly. "Very close now, I think, to fully understanding mankind. But look at you. You have matured quite a lot since we last spoke. Do you remember? You were such a small, weak little thing back then. Most of the others assumed you were a failed experiment, nothing worth keeping around. I always had faith in you, dear. I am glad to see that faith was not misplaced."

Subaru blinked, mind scrambling to keep up with information she had absolutely no context for. Failed experiment. Weak spawn. None of this matched anything she actually knew about Linie, which admittedly wasn't much, but it was enough to know this conversation had wandered somewhere deeply unfamiliar.

"I never quite understood what people meant by that," Subaru said carefully, hoping the vague honesty would pass as something Linie herself might plausibly say. "The failed experiment part."

The girl tilted her head, studying Subaru a moment longer, that same knowing curve settling back into her smile, the kind of expression that suggested she understood a great deal more than she was currently choosing to say out loud.

"It looks like your companion is coming," she said instead, entirely unbothered by the lack of a real answer. "See you soon, Linie."

"Subaru?"

The voice cut through the trees from somewhere behind her, and Subaru spun around fast enough to nearly drop the last of her firewood.

Übel was picking her way through the underbrush, staff resting casually against one shoulder, eyebrows raised in mild curiosity.

"What are you doing all the way out here?"

"I was just—" Subaru turned back toward the tree, already opening her mouth to explain, and found absolutely nothing there. No girl. No greenish blue hair. No white scarf. Just an old tree with roots curling up out of the dirt, looking exactly as unremarkable as any other tree in this forest. "Taking a rest."

Übel's eyebrows climbed even higher. "Taking a rest. In the middle of collecting firewood. While standing perfectly still, staring at a tree, talking to nobody."

"I wasn't talking to nobody, I was, I was thinking out loud, that's a thing people do."

"I thought you had infinite stamina," Übel said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "Isn't that the whole demon thing? Boundless energy, never gets tired, all that fun stuff you keep bragging about whenever I complain about walking uphill?"

"I don't have infinite stamina, that's not— that's not a real thing, also please stop making this weird!"

"I'm not making anything weird. You're the one standing alone in the woods having a conversation with a tree and then trying to convince me it was a nap."

Subaru scooped up the scattered firewood with more force than strictly necessary, cheeks warming despite the chilly evening air. "It's not important. Let's just get back to camp."

“At this rate, you’ll end up getting killed, or slayed.” Übel said.

“Relax, I have plot armor,”

“What kind of armor is that?”

“It's a conceptual thing, uh, it means that even in dire situations, I will not die.”

“Huh,”

Übel fell into step beside her without much protest, though the sly, considering look on her face made it clear this particular topic hadn't actually been dropped, just filed away for later ammunition. They walked in silence for a few paces, the crunch of leaves under their boots the only sound between them, before Übel spoke up again, voice light and deceptively casual.

"You know," she said, "you still owe me an explanation."

"For what."

"The whole body swap thing." Übel glanced sideways at her, grin creeping back onto her face. "You promised, remember? Back after that exam. You said you'd explain everything once we had time to actually sit down and talk about it properly."

Subaru groaned, adjusting the firewood in her arms, wishing very much that her past exhausted self had kept her mouth shut about literally anything at all during that particular conversation.

"Do we have to talk about that right now?"

"We don't have to," Übel said sweetly, "but I am extremely patient, and extremely stubborn, and I will absolutely keep bringing it up at increasingly inconvenient moments until you finally cave and tell me everything."

"That sounds less like patience and more like harassment."

"Semantics."

Subaru sighed, long and heavy, staring ahead toward the faint orange glow of their campfire flickering between the trees. Between mysterious demons who somehow knew a version of her that didn't exist and a companion who apparently had the memory of an elephant crossed with the persistence of a particularly aggressive tax collector, she was starting to think a quiet night by the fire might be too much to ask for.

"Fine," she muttered. "After dinner. But if you laugh, I swear I will leave you out here for the wolves."

"I like wolves," Übel said cheerfully, already quickening her pace toward the fire, clearly delighted at having successfully cornered her prey after however many days of patient, relentless pestering. "But I'll try to keep it to a light chuckle at most."

"That is not reassuring."

"It's not supposed to be."

───✧───

Sein had been standing in front of the bakery for a solid two minutes trying to decide between the sourdough and something that claimed to be cinnamon flavored but smelled suspiciously like it had been sitting there since last week, when a flash of red caught the corner of his eye. Red jacket. A very familiar looking axe strapped across a very familiar looking back.

He turned, squinting to make sure his tired eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

"Is that you, Stark?"

The young man ambling toward him did indeed have the same messy red hair, though it had somehow gotten even messier since the last time Sein had seen it, sticking up in directions that seemed to defy basic wind patterns. Stark looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, shoulders slumped with the particular weariness of someone who had walked far too many miles recently. But underneath all that fatigue, he also looked healthier than Sein remembered, filled out a bit more, color back in his face in a way that suggested actual meals had been happening on a regular basis.

"Sein!" Stark's face brightened immediately, breaking into a relieved grin. "Good to see you! It has been such a long journey, I swear, my legs are never going to forgive me."

He said the last part in a whine that carried a surprising amount of emotional weight for something about legs.

"It wouldn't have been so long," came a familiar voice from just behind him, crisp and slightly exasperated, "if you didn't insist on taking so many unnecessary breaks, Stark-sama."

Fern stepped into view, arms crossed, expression carrying that particular blend of fondness and mild irritation she seemed to reserve exclusively for Stark. She spotted Sein and her posture straightened slightly, a polite nod following.

"Oh, hello, Sein-sama."

"Fern came too," Sein said, glancing between the two of them. "Which means..."

"Looks like you're doing alright for yourself, Sein."

A third voice cut in, and Sein turned to see Kraft approaching, the green haired elf hauling an absurdly large piece of luggage over one shoulder like it weighed nothing at all, expression carrying its usual quiet, unbothered calm.

"Good to see you," Kraft added, setting the luggage down with a soft thud.

"Great to see all of you," Sein said, and meant it, relief washing over him in a way he hadn't expected. "Honestly, this is a nice surprise. Finally I don't have to spend every evening listening to Frieren complain about absolutely everything."

"I am extremely sorry for whatever distress Frieren-sama has been causing you," Fern said immediately, bowing her head slightly. "Fern is well aware that she can be, difficult, at times."

"Yeah," Sein said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Her tantrums have gotten worse lately. And her hangovers have gotten, honestly, kind of scary."

"Hangover?" Kraft's eyebrows shot upward. "I didn't realize Frieren drank."

"She doesn't," Fern said flatly.

"She has been drinking a lot recently," Sein explained, sighing as the memories resurfaced. "Ever since Serie let the demon participate in the exam, and then, on top of that, let her walk free afterward, despite having promised Frieren she'd hand the demon over if Frieren passed or something. Frieren has not taken that particular development well."

"Why would Serie do that?" Stark asked, scratching his head. "Isn't she supposed to be like, a super wise ancient elf or something? Seems like a weird move for someone that old."

"Frieren says something about Serie trying to get under her skin on purpose," Sein said, shrugging helplessly. "Honestly, I'm not entirely sure myself. Frieren has also picked up a startling amount of colorful language lately, which has been its own separate problem."

"I will scold her for that," Fern said immediately, jaw set with the kind of firm determination that suggested Frieren was in for a very uncomfortable lecture the moment they reunited.

Kraft hefted the luggage back onto his shoulder with a small grunt. "Before any scolding happens, we should probably get the full story properly. Let's find a room first, get settled, and then you can walk us through everything that's happened.”

───✧───

The door swung open, and the smell hit them before anything else did, a thick, sour wall of stale beer that made Stark physically recoil in the doorway, one hand clamped over his nose.

"Oh no," he muttered.

Sprawled diagonally across the bed, snoring loud enough to rattle the windowpanes, was Frieren, one arm dangling off the edge of the mattress with a half empty bottle still clutched in her fingers like she'd fallen asleep mid drink and simply refused to let go even in unconsciousness. In the corner of the room sat a small mountain of empty bottles, stacked haphazardly against the wall in a pile that suggested someone had been working very hard and very consistently for several days straight.

Fern stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the scene in front of her with an expression that had gone somewhere far past shock and settled directly into something resembling grief.

"Frieren-sama," she whispered, voice barely audible.

Nobody answered, since Frieren was currently far too unconscious to respond to anything short of an actual earthquake.

Fern crossed the room in three brisk, furious strides and grabbed her master by the shoulders, shaking her with a violence that seemed entirely disproportionate for someone who claimed to respect her elder.

"Frieren-sama! Wake up!"

Frieren mumbled something incomprehensible, her head lolling to one side, lips smacking together lazily. "Mmm. One more."

Fern's expression darkened considerably. Without any further hesitation, she raised one hand and slapped Frieren firmly across the cheek. Once. Twice. A third time for good measure.

Frieren's eyes cracked open blearily, unfocused and glassy, squinting up at the blurry shape now hovering directly above her.

"You look like my apprentice," she slurred, blinking slowly. "What's her name again? Ah, Fart."

"It's Fern, Frieren-sama."

"Ohh." Frieren nodded slowly, as if this explanation had fully satisfied whatever confusion existed in her alcohol soaked brain. "Right. Fern."

"Wake up, Frieren-sama."

"Lemme sleep," Frieren mumbled, already closing her eyes again, head sinking back into the pillow with the boneless commitment of someone who had absolutely no intention of moving anytime soon.

Fern's hand rose again, and another sharp slap echoed through the room.

"Scary," Sein noted from the doorway, wincing slightly at the sound. "Though, honestly, deserved."

"Frieren-sama," Fern said, voice tight and controlled despite the obvious storm building underneath it. "What happened to you? Why are you behaving like this?"

"Let me sleep," Frieren groaned, rolling onto her side in a clear attempt to escape further conversation.

"Wake up, Frieren-sama!"

That did it. Frieren's eyes snapped open fully this time, and she sat up so fast the whole bed creaked in protest, fury blazing behind her bleary, bloodshot gaze. Her hand closed around the neck of the bottle she'd been holding, and with a sharp motion, she smashed it against the bedframe, glass shattering across the floor in scattered fragments.

"Leave me alone!" she yelled, voice cracking with a raw, ragged edge that none of them had ever heard from her before.

Stark flinched backward, nearly tripping over Kraft's luggage. "Whoa, okay, maybe we should just, come back later—"

"Absolutely not," Fern said, standing her ground with the unwavering determination of someone who had clearly decided this conversation was happening whether Frieren liked it or not. "Please, Frieren-sama. Tell us what happened."

Frieren stared at her for a long, tense moment, chest heaving slightly, the broken bottle still clutched in her trembling hand. Then something in her shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her all at once, replaced by something heavier and far more exhausted.

"All these months," she said, words slurring together, punctuated by a small, undignified hiccup, "we have been chasing this demon. This monster that killed so many people, that we thought was just another mindless killer wearing a pretty face. But it's not. It's not a demon at all. Not really."

"What do you mean?" Sein asked carefully, stepping further into the room.

"It's a human," Frieren said, her voice cracking on the word, eyes glassy with a mixture of alcohol and something that looked disturbingly close to genuine distress. "A human, stuck inside the body of a demon."

The room went completely silent.

Stark's mouth fell open. "Wait, what? That's, that doesn't even make sense. How is that even possible? I've fought a lot of things, I've fought a lot of weird stuff honestly, but I've never seen any human fight like that. Nobody moves like that. Nobody survives what that thing survived."

"Because," Frieren continued, swaying slightly where she sat, words tumbling out faster now, less controlled, "she isn't from here. She's from another world entirely. Some, some other place, completely different rules, completely different everything, and somehow she ended up here, trapped inside a body that isn't even hers, and this, this is."

Her eyes rolled back, and she pitched sideways, collapsing back onto the mattress in a dead, boneless heap before she could finish whatever thought had been forming.

"Frieren-sama!" Fern lunged forward, catching her master's shoulders just before her head could crack against the headboard.

Sein moved quickly to help, checking Frieren's pulse with practiced, steady hands, exhaling in relief when he found it strong and even despite the alarming amount of alcohol clearly coursing through her system.

"She's just passed out," he said. "Completely unconscious. She'll probably have a headache the size of the entire Northern Plateau when she wakes up, but she'll live."

Stark stood frozen near the doorway, staring at Frieren's unconscious form with wide, stunned eyes, still visibly trying to process everything that had just been said. A human. Trapped in a demon's body. From another world entirely. None of it fit cleanly into any framework he'd built up over years of fighting alongside Frieren, and his brain seemed to be struggling to file the information anywhere useful.

Kraft, meanwhile, remained quiet near the door, arms crossed, watching the entire scene unfold with sharp, calculating eyes that gave away absolutely nothing about what he was actually thinking, though the faint furrow in his brow suggested his mind had already started turning the pieces over, examining them from every possible angle, searching for whatever picture they were slowly starting to form.

───✧───

So...

Who is the demon girl?

Next Chapter: Schlacht Could See A Thousand Years Into The Future

1. Stark, Kraft, Sein and Fern talk.

2. The Hero of the South.

3. Flashback of the Demon King and Schlacht.

See you next week.