Chapter 79: Even until the end of your life, I will protect you
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Because of Ash's unique circumstances, Heiter wasn't entirely sure how long he could count on him to care for Fern.
So before Frieren left, he hoped that Fern would at least be able to keep up with one of the two or, ideally, have the skills to support herself by the time he passed, giving him some peace of mind.
After all, just as Fern saw him as her grandfather, Heiter truly thought of this young life—the last he encountered in his own—as his granddaughter.
Ash, understanding Heiter's concerns, looked at the frail and weary old man lying in bed and sighed, "I understand what you're hoping for, but you've misunderstood something. At this point, I could never abandon her. And honestly, she's nearly self-sufficient already. She's basically grown up and can make her own way. So there's not much to worry about."
But then Heiter asked him something unexpected, with a hint of mischief and perhaps something deeper, which caught Ash off guard. "To tell the truth, what exactly is Fern to you?"
"Fern? She's a child, right? What else would she be?" Ash replied with genuine surprise. He had raised Fern, watched her grow, and the thought of her as anything other than a child simply didn't cross his mind.
"Haha… Indeed, to us, she's always been a child," Heiter chuckled softly. Then, with a slightly more serious tone, he added, "But children grow up. Someday, she'll become a graceful young woman, and though you won't age—at least in appearance—you'll look like peers."
"Only in appearance, right?"
"When she was young, she could see you as a father figure, but as she matures and appears as you do, can she really still see you that way? I think it might be difficult. Don't you agree?"
Heiter's gaze and tone, unusually protective, made Ash a bit uncomfortable, almost like Heiter was suddenly acting like a grandfather protecting his granddaughter. This made Ash raise an eyebrow, finding the implication both amusing and strange.
"What are you imagining all the time?" Ash replied lightly, trying to brush off the mood. "She's practically family, a younger sister, isn't she?"
"No blood relation," Heiter reminded him.
"Fine, then the older brother next door."
"A brother next door who's cared for her since she was little," Heiter pressed on, "think about what that means."
"Alright, I'll think about it."
"We can put this aside for now," Heiter said with a hint of humor. "But just consider this—she'll look like she's in her twenties soon enough, and what about you?"
"A neighbor's brother?" Ash said, sighing. "Oh, don't make me overthink this. I'm the elder here, and even if she seems rebellious now, I'm sure she respects me at heart. As she grows up, she'll continue to see me as an elder, I'm certain."
"Even if she feels that way… what about you?" Heiter raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for Ash to understand the point he was making. "Haven't you always wanted to find a nice girl to watch the stars with? Fern is quite cute now, and she'll only become more charming as she matures, right?"
Ash was so surprised by Heiter's implication that he almost laughed aloud. Giving a clear answer without hesitation, he said, "Who do you think I am? How could I ever think of a child I've raised that way? If it came down to it, I'd sooner consider a demon, an angel, or an ancient elf before even thinking about Fern in such a way."
Heiter's wild suspicion struck Ash as so absurd that he nearly took a vow right then and there.
In addition to the years they had spent together since childhood, there was a more practical reason Ash hesitated—a fundamental issue that came down to their difference in lifespans.
He recalled an incident he and Heiter had encountered on their travels: a dwarf who had married a human wife. Inevitably, the human wife passed away early, while the dwarf husband was left to guard her grave and the village, likely to continue his vigil for countless years to come.
Such stories only reinforced what history had already shown—that unions between those with vastly different life expectancies often led to inevitable heartache. Even if they could overcome other barriers, he knew that one day, he would witness Fern age and grow frail while he remained unchanged. This reality weighed heavily on him.
Reflecting on all this, Heiter sighed with a hint of helplessness but said nothing more. His gaze drifted to the ceiling as he murmured, almost faintly, "Then... let me pray for you from heaven when the time comes."
"Stop worrying so much. Just live honestly," Ash replied, his tone gentle but firm.
"Haha, you're right," Heiter whispered with a weak smile before closing his eyes, while Ash turned his gaze to the window, avoiding the sight of his ailing friend.
Outside, as though sharing in the old man's weariness, a heavy downpour pounded against the window. The rain, relentless and fierce, created an illusion that the end of days was near.
Ash sat silently for a long time, his expression contemplative, before he suddenly spoke, "But… regardless of everything, you really don't need to worry. No matter what happens during her life, or how she eventually views me, I'll protect Fern until her final days. I do this not for you, but because I can't bear to see the child I've watched grow come to harm."
"That's… more than I could have asked for. But still, I can't help but feel sorry for you," Heiter replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Forget it. This is my choice."
"Really? Well… thank you. I'll leave her to you from now on."
Their conversation reached an unspoken end, with only the hum of wind and rain filling the room, underscoring the fragile quiet.
...
After some time, Ash left Heiter's room, letting the older man rest. In the living room, Frieren sat slumped at the dining table, her expression visibly heavier than the two men's. She had just returned from outside, and rainwater dripped steadily from her soaked clothes, but she seemed too distracted to care.
Shaking his head, Ash grabbed a towel and tossed it at her face, blocking her view.
Frieren, already in a low mood, pulled the towel from her face, glaring at him in annoyance. "I'm not in the mood for this right now! Don't mess around with me like this, especially at a time like this…"
"You're an adult now, you know better," Ash said, his tone admonishing but gentle. "If you don't take care of yourself, you won't have the strength to handle everything else. What if you catch a cold? Magic won't cure that."
"…I know that. You don't have to tell me," she muttered, looking away unhappily. But despite her reluctance, she still walked toward the bathroom with the towel. Just before she closed the door, she paused, not turning back as she said, "Fern's still on the mountain. You should go check on her—it wouldn't do if something happened to her out there in this storm."
"I already know that without you reminding me," Ash responded, "but… I'll bring Fern down shortly. Once you're done with your shower, make us a meal—something the kid would enjoy, if possible."
"You still don't fully understand her."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I just don't think she'll come down so easily."
"Well, I'll bring her down anyway."
Ash shrugged slightly, grabbed an umbrella, opened the door, and stepped out into the storm. Although he tried to keep his exit composed, the relentless wind and rain forced him to open the umbrella immediately, which promptly broke under the pressure of the elements, drenching his face in cold rain.
"That kid… still so stubborn," Frieren muttered, watching him vanish into the rain. She dried her face, sighed, then simply took off into the air, disappearing like a flash of lightning.
In mere moments, Ash reached the back mountain, finding himself at the edge of a bare cliff that overlooked the forest below. Standing there, a purple-haired girl with waist-length hair faced the distant rocks on the opposite side, bracing herself against the strong wind and pounding rain.
Unfazed by the harsh weather, she was repeatedly casting a basic attack spell—ordinary human magic refined from lethal combat magic. Over and over, she focused on sending light toward the other side of the cliff, aiming for the boulders across the gap. But each time, the spell lost strength in midair, succumbing to the wind and fading before reaching its destination.
Ash observed for a while, then approached and placed his hand on Philen's head. "Take it easy," he said gently. "You're not ready yet."
"No… there's no time left," she replied, turning to meet his gaze in the pouring rain. "Neither you nor Lord Heiter have much time remaining. If… if Lady Frieren can't manage it, then I want to prove I can survive alone."
Her words held a resolve so firm that it seemed unshakable. Ash knelt to her level, studying her eyes. After a thoughtful pause, he smiled warmly, and in a soft voice said, "This will be our secret. Don't tell anyone—not even Frieren."
"Wh-what…?" she asked, caught off guard.
"Actually, I'm not like Heiter. I'm different. My body is strong enough to endure—I'll be here to witness your future, to protect you as long as you live."
"Really?"
"Of course," he replied with an unwavering tone. "I swear to you, no matter what happens or how things may change between us, I will never leave your side."
There was an unmistakable certainty in his voice, and his gentle gaze held a warmth so profound that Fern's eyes widened in shock. Despite the seeming impossibility of his words, she couldn't bring herself to doubt him. In fact, she didn't want to.
Ash didn't say anything more, merely rested his hand on her head in a way that soothed her, gradually softening her rigid stance until she nearly melted under his touch. She felt a desire to fall into his embrace, as she had often done in the past.
Before she could make the decision, Ash pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her with the same gentleness as always, enveloping her in the warmth she knew so well. She surrendered completely, letting herself fall into the comfort and familiarity of his embrace, trusting in the promise he had just given her.