Crackle, crackle!
A sudden downpour swept across the city.
In the room arranged by the priest, Milliarde sat upright at the desk, fully absorbed in deciphering a spellbook.
Tap… tap…
Footsteps sounded behind her. The tip of her quill paused for a fraction of a second.
Creak—
The wooden door opened.
"You're back," she said without turning her head, completely immersed in the world of magic.
Cold wind mixed with rain lifted her hair. She casually brushed aside a few loose silver strands.
"How was it? Was that statue valuable?"
"How many magic items did you trade it for?"
Click.
Yuhran folded up his umbrella and stepped inside.
He shook the water droplets from his hair, pulled a lighter from his pocket, and lit the torches around the room one by one.
The dim flames swayed gently, driving away some of the gloom.
He lifted his head slightly and replied in an even tone,
"Not bad. Since it was a single-use item, I only exchanged it for one."
He had wanted more, but this was a church. Who knew if a god was watching? Knowing when to stop was the safest choice.
Hearing this, Milliarde set down her quill and slowly turned around.
She looked at Yuhran carefully and nodded, her tone more serious.
"One item? That's already quite good. At least someone who carries a holy relic doesn't need the statue's protection."
As she spoke, her gaze landed on the circular lens frame near Yuhran 's right eye. A silver-white cord hung down against his collar.
"This is…?"
Yuhran walked over at an unhurried pace.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as he nodded.
"You noticed. That's right—this is the new magic item I traded for."
He raised a hand to adjust the frame, his tone tinged with mild amazement.
"I really didn't expect monocles to exist in this era."
Considering that the Goddess was a creator deity who didn't originally belong to this world, it wasn't strange that fragments of objects from other worlds might have been glimpsed and reproduced by natives.
The monocle's effect was simple: once worn, it allowed the wearer to clearly see the trajectories of moving objects.
Useless to ordinary people and priests—because even if they could see, they still wouldn't be able to dodge.
But for a warrior, it was a different story. That was precisely why Yuhran had chosen it.
Milliarde frowned slightly, her eyes filled with confusion.
"Monocle?"
Another word she had never heard before.
Just as she was about to ask further, Yuhran gathered his thoughts, stepped half a pace closer, and explained,
"Of course, calling it glasses isn't quite accurate. It's really just a frame—no one in this era can make transparent glass yet."
No glass was actually a good thing. At least there was no need to worry about it suddenly shattering.
He glanced at the text on the pages in front of her, exhaled softly, and continued,
"Let's leave that aside. You'll see its effect for yourself in the future."
"How's the magic research going? When do we set out?"
Even though it was raining outside, it didn't really hinder travel.
At his words, Milliarde had no choice but to pull her thoughts back. She turned her gaze back to the book and replied calmly,
"Tomorrow. Analyzing magic takes time."
"Luckily, this book was written only a few decades ago, so it's not too hard to read."
"Otherwise… I've heard that texts from the mythological era can take more than five years each to fully decipher."
That was true. Frieren herself had spent six years deciphering a spellbook suspected to relate to resurrection magic.
"Tomorrow, huh? That works."
Yuhran was about to look away when he suddenly remembered something important. His eyes lingered on the book as his tone shifted.
"Who's the author of this book?"
There were only a handful of mages in the world. Anyone capable of writing and publishing a book in this era had to be extremely famous.
Sure enough—
When Milliarde softly spoke a few words, realization dawned on Yuhran 's face.
"…Serie?"
That name was legendary.
She was the pinnacle of combat power in this world, second only to the Goddess herself.
Master of all magic across past and present, thousands of years old.
Without exaggeration, she alone could wipe out the current unified empire.
And these books were written by her?
"You know her?" Milliarde asked, noticing his expression. A trace of confusion flickered in her eyes.
At this stage, she hadn't yet seen the wider world, so she naturally didn't know Serie—even though they were both elves.
Yuhran nodded, his answer vague.
"Sort of… anyway, keep it up. I'm looking forward to the day you fully decipher and master this book."
Memories surged in his mind.
If he remembered correctly, Serie lived near the Central Continent—roughly the same direction as Frieren's home.
Whether he'd ever get the chance to meet her was uncertain. Becoming her disciple was probably unrealistic, but if he could freeload a few spellbooks, that would already be a win.
"What a strange human…" Milliarde murmured.
What did "sort of" even mean?
She shook her head lightly, tossed the thought aside, and plunged back into her analysis. The more she read, the more unfathomable it seemed.
Tap.
Yuhran quietly backed out of the room.
If she managed to learn magic created by Serie, her strength would skyrocket.
Then, even if they encountered a demon stronger than Shadun in the future, there'd be no need to fear.
Back in his own room, Yuhran removed the monocle and rubbed his aching temples, his head spinning slightly.
It was powerful—but it had a fatal flaw.
Wear it too long, and it caused severe mental fatigue.
He had only used it briefly to observe the rain, yet he already felt like this…
"Maybe it's because the rain was too fast, too dense," he muttered, then paused, imagining the possibility of falling asleep mid-battle. His brow furrowed deeply.
"One hour. The wearing time absolutely can't exceed one hour—or the consequences would be disastrous."
Strength was always relative.
Beating monsters and demons might mean nothing in the face of national-level institutions.
Seeing rain clearly was nothing special.
Dodging rain while inside it—that was true mastery, true elegance and power.
"Still a long way to go."
With that thought, determined to match his growing power, Yuhran continued training in his room, huffing and puffing.
Night fell quickly.
He rubbed his stiff muscles, took out a device, and did a quick test.
Grip strength—bang!
150 kilograms.
"…?"
"Did it really double in just half a month? This level…"
For a moment, Yuhran was speechless.
He knew most of this growth was thanks to Milliarde's magic—
again and again erasing fatigue, again and again pushing him to the limit.
But still—
"This is straight-up cheating. And honestly? I love it."
Since it was the result of his own effort, his doubts vanished instantly, replaced by a grin of satisfaction.
If half a month was like this, what about a year?
With magic items on top of that…
"By then… maybe I really won't eat beef."
Yuhran shook his head lightly.
This—this—was growth of the will itself.
All the effort had been worth it.
The path to the extraordinary was right in front of him.
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