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Chapter 328 The Corrupt Sage: Cried in Fear

After learning about the different flow rates of time, Frillian decided to minimize her trips to other worlds before her two remaining teammates reached the end of their lives.

I already thought that human lifespan was pitifully short. Although dwarves live a little longer, it's still only a matter of a few blinks of an eye. Why would Frilian waste her time?

Well, although I'm somewhat interested in the Yin-Yang Technique from the world of the demon realm that everyone in the group calls "Sister Purple," she doesn't appear very often. It seems she's been in a long-term lurking state, probably doing something big.

Frilian wasn't in a hurry, after all, monsters seemed to have very long lifespans, perhaps even longer than elves. Jagi said that seventeen years old probably meant "one year of chaos."

The "Kaleidoscope" doesn't have many functions, but it's quite interesting to chat in the group occasionally. You can learn about information from the other world and get some new inspiration from it.

Beyond the "Power Fist Magic," Frillie, with her vast knowledge of magic, had a sudden inspiration while slacking off, unleashing her imagination to create some minor spells that could easily be listed among the top ten most bizarre folk magic spells—a "magic spell that makes you want to punch the person in front of you," a "magic spell that turns your hairstyle into a mohawk," a "murderous hand-knife magic spell"...

However, what puzzled her the most was...

Every time someone appears, she has to take a screenshot of her newly accepted disciple, Philon, under the guise of "observing the growth of the little mushroom."

I don't quite understand his purpose in doing this, but Frillie has never really cared.

Just like the ten years spent with the hero Simmel, which may be long enough for humans, these days are but a blink of an eye for elves.

Can a hundred years be traversed in an instant?
……

"24th year of the Xin Dynasty"

"Hita, there are actually drugs that can extend human life, if you want..."

Standing before the gaunt and dying Haita, Frilian said softly that she had come here to visit him, and now this monk, favored by the goddess, had finally reached the end of his life.

Beside the monk who was completely bedridden and unable to move on his own, the silver-haired twin-tailed elf's appearance remained unchanged.

A look of reminiscence crossed Haita's face.

"Ahem, Frilian, you know what... I'm actually quite happy to hear you say that. That Frilian would actually go out of her way to speak up for something so trivial..."

Because Frilian did not refuse to accept Philon as her disciple, Haita's original excuse was useless. Her purpose here was no longer to analyze the sage's grimoire and search for the magic of resurrection and immortality, but simply to accompany her friend through the last years of his life...

"...I'm afraid you still have a very long life ahead of you. Whether it's a second or 100 years, it won't make much difference to you, so it's meaningless to measure things by the length of time. The longer you live, the more profound the emotions you accumulate will be, and at crucial moments, your body will subconsciously take action... I'm so glad that our journey has changed you..."

Haita glanced at Philon, who had grown considerably and was now standing tall and graceful, with the gentle gaze characteristic of an elder, and a satisfied expression appeared on his face.

"It seems it's time for me to return to the embrace of the goddess."

"Haven't you become afraid of death?"

"I lied to you."

The monk, who indulged in wine and meat, revealed a smile of success in his prank.

"If given the chance, I hope we'll meet again at the crossroads of cause and effect..."

Frilian didn't say anything more. If what that person said was true, then once she reached heaven, she would not only be able to see Simmel again, but also Heita.

Of course… if she were to encounter a white-vested strongman in Heaven who bore the name "Hell," she would immediately contact the Iron Mask of the End of the Century from another world.
……

"26th year of the Xin Dynasty"

"Let's go, Philon."

Having decided to teach, Frilian naturally wouldn't hold back her knowledge, but instead imparted all the most useful magic from actual combat to her. Even though 80 years had passed since the Demon King was defeated, this land was still ravaged by monsters, with demons running rampant and dangers lurking everywhere.

There are only about two thousand mages in the entire continent. This is not only due to their aptitude, but also because the mortality rate of magic apprentices in actual combat is extremely high.

But Frilian is now confident that, under her careful guidance, Philon will be able to survive to the end amidst the intense social interactions.

"Lady Frilian, where are we going?"

Philon, holding the wooden staff, asked from behind his master.

"Go and meet a very strong opponent."

……

"Fri, Frilian?"

The former demon who had been petrified and was once one of the most powerful mages in the Demon King's army, the corrupt sage Guval, opened his mouth slightly and stared with puzzled eyes at the elf in front of him who was slightly larger than himself...
For some reason, apart from the white and gold-trimmed mage robe and the pointed ears, she had absolutely nothing in common with the elven girl he remembered, the one whose sealing he had taken four people to barely manage. Yet, he could still recognize her…

"How much time has passed...?"

Guval expressed his incomprehension of the current situation, wondering if he had somehow woken up to an era where Astartes roamed everywhere. If he were an elf, he might live to the 40K era.

"Eighty years."

Frillie answered expressionlessly, then clenched her right fist, which was larger than a normal person's head.

In Guvar's eyes, a large, scarlet star he had never seen before was reflected, and for no apparent reason, he understood that it represented the star of death.

"Wait, wait! I've only just escaped!" the corrupt sage roared in disbelief, his jet-black magic rapidly gathering, like lightning, as he tried to unleash his most prized spell to defeat his opponent first.

But unfortunately...

A punch was thrown.
BOOM——————

A tremendous sound, like mountains collapsing and oceans overturning, rang out. Explosive magical power erupted from Frilian's palm, and a terrifying torrent immediately engulfed the "normal attack magic".

The corrupt sage Guval explodes.

With a snap, only half a head and a disbelieving eyeball remained in place.

"Lady Flillian!"

"You've made a mess everywhere again!"

With brisk strides, Philon crushed the remnants of Guval, picked up the suddenly shrunken Frilian with one large hand, patted the dust off her, and complained unhappily.

In contrast to the "Hard Fist" used by Frilian, Philon, under her tutelage, mastered a magic called "Gentle Fist," which is why Frilian believed she possessed the ability to protect herself.

"Let's go..."

Stepping over the ashes of Guval, Frilian looked north.

"We'll go in a straight line to heaven."

(End of this chapter)