It was a rough day for Minus, the usually emotionless elf who now found herself in grave peril. She had ignited numerous wars with both humans and demons alike, but unlike the Great Elf Mage Serie, who at least had a purpose for stirring conflict, Minus sparked wars purely out of personal interest. Her actions led to her being dubbed "The Witch Minus," and now, she was being hunted down by the Empire for high treason.
Minus' POV: Why must I be hunted and called a warmonger? *She fumed internally. By starting wars, I'm helping magic develop and advancing the eradication of demons. The damn Empire should be grateful, considering they're secretly benefitting from the conflicts I've sparked. Maybe Serie—my fellow Great Mage—will help me out. She, too, comes from an era of war, after all.
After five days and five nights of travel, Minus had finally arrived at the Northern Continental Magic Association, where Serie resided. With urgency, she approached the reception desk, demanding to be granted an audience with the great elf mage. Instead, the receptionist called upon a timid young mage, no more than a shadow of Minus' own power. He was no more than a hundredth of her strength in terms of mana.
However in just a flash, he used a lightning-fast binding spell to hold Minus in place, though the spell was rather crude and Minus could've easily broken it if she had wanted to.
"What is the meaning of this?" Minus asked coldly.
The young mage introduced himself with a nervous bow. "I am Lenren, a first-class mage and an apprentice under Serie. She's been expecting you, and will see you shortly."
Minus raised an eyebrow, her voice filled with disbelief. "Serie, the long-lived Great Mage, has decided to take in human apprentices again? I thought she would have stopped after Flamme. How futile. Humans live but a fleeting moment, and no matter how much you teach them, they'll never match the greatness of an elf. Teaching them is a waste of time."
Before Minus could finish her thoughts, Serie entered the room with calm grace, her presence commanding yet serene. She responded to Minus' doubts. "It's true. Human lifespans are short, and most of them will never reach my level. But they progress quickly, and they live their lives to the fullest."
"I see," Minus replied, her voice tinged with reluctant understanding. "But don't you regret that they'll never leave a significant mark on history?"
Serie smiled and calmy replied. "It's true, most human apprentices will never surpass me, nor leave a legacy as great as mine. But I've never regretted teaching them. Flamme made magic accessible to all, and that alone has made magic part of everyday human life. Lenren, my current apprentice, will inspire countless others to join the Continental Magic Association, raising the quality and talent of the mages to come."
Minus simply nodded in acknowledgment. "I suppose I understand why you do it now."
"Now, let's get to the reason you're here, Minus." Serie's voice grew colder. "You didn't come all this way just to have a chat. I assume you need my help." With that, Serie led Minus to her private room inside an ancient elven tree, a towering symbol of the elven people's magical prowess. Lenren, sensing it was time to leave, quickly released his binding spell and departed.
As Minus followed Serie into the room, she couldn't help but muse aloud. "This ancient elven tree… it reminds me of the Mythological Era. I can see you've enhanced it with magic—it's practically an impregnable fortress against both physical and magical attacks."
"As you'd expect, you're the only one to notice its true nature," Serie said with a small smirk. "Now, let's get to the point. You've come here to ask me to help you call off the charges against you, but I cannot do that without sparking a massive conflict with the Empire. I'm sure you knew I would reject your request. Though we come from the same era, Minus, we approach war differently. You start them for your own gain. I, on the other hand, start wars out of necessity. Without war, magic stagnates. It ceases to develop. The humans may begrudgingly accept this reasoning, but they won't accept yours. They see your wars as senseless, as you spark them for the thrill of it."
Minus countered, her voice steely. "My reasoning for starting wars is simple—without war, magic wouldn't be needed, and its development would come to a halt. I thrive on magic, by mastering and incorporating the spells humans constantly invent into new and deadlier ones."
"The Witch Minus," Serie responded with quiet disdain. "You're almost like Frieren, turning Zoltraak, once the demons' human-killing magic into something usable by simple human mages to kill demons."
"Oh, Frieren? That troublesome elf I defeated? She was never a real threat. Her obsession with the 'pursuit of magic' is nothing more than foolishness. I can't believe she managed to defeat the Demon King when she fell so easily to me 200 years ago. But I suppose you're right about humans—Frieren has grown stronger in the decade she's traveled with the hero party. Even so, she's still a long way from being a mage strong enough to defeat me. Her biggest flaw is her lack of ambition."
"Frieren is still so young compared to us, if she isn't so foolish, she'd have more potential," Serie remarked. "But enough about that ambitionless elf. Now that you understand I won't help you, what do you truly want from me?"
Minus hesitated before speaking again. "I know you won't help me in that regard, but... could I ask for a favor?"
"What favor?" Serie inquired, her tone shifting to one of curiosity.
"I know you possess the spell to transfer one's memories, skills, and soul into a vessel or body from the Dark Age of magic," Minus said, her voice laced with hidden urgency. "I saw you purchase the grimoire yourself—bought it to prevent me from using it, didn't you? But now, I need that exact same spell."
Serie's gaze sharpened, her tone colder. "So, you're preparing for your own death, are you? You want to transfer your soul into another body to escape the Empire's hunters. Dark magic. Dangerous magic. You should know the cost of this spell. It's not just difficult—it's risky. You'll likely lose most of your memories in the process."
Minus didn't flinch. "I don't care about the risks. I need that spell."
"Of course you do," Serie said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "Always looking for the quickest way out, huh? Fine. I'll grant you the favor. But don't expect me to save you when it all inevitably goes wrong."
Serie began chanting, her voice low and powerful, weaving the incantation that would transfer the spell into a grimoire. The process was slow, as the original text contained only theories on how such a spell could be made, and Serie had spent more than 1000 years making the theories into reality.
But soon enough, Serie paused and looked up at Minus with a smirk. "Why don't I just transfer the spell directly into you? It'll be quicker that way." Before Minus could protest, Serie playfully grabbed her in a headlock, transferring the spell directly into her mind. Minus struggled, her face flushing with frustration.
"I told you I hate being tickled, Serie!" she growled, trying to break free, but Serie held her tight.
"I know," Serie grinned, her tone mischievous. "That's exactly why I had to do it. For old times' sake."
After two long, uncomfortable minutes, Serie finally released her. "There. You've got the spell now. Happy?"
Minus rubbed her forehead, irritation clearly visible on her face. "You know, I really don't like that, Serie."
"Well, you've got what you wanted," Serie said, clearly amused by Minus's frustration. "Now go. You've got your rebirth plan ready. I hope you're prepared for what's to come next."
Minus didn't respond immediately. She looked at Serie one last time, her expression hardening as she turned to leave. "I'll be going now. Hopefully, we'll meet again after I rebirth myself." With that, she left the Northern Continental Magic Association, her thoughts already focused on her next move. She would need to find a new vessel so that if she fell, she would rise again. For now, though, she could take some comfort in the fact that she had what she needed... even if it came with old memories of frustrating moments with her old friend Serie.