Why can't humans do it too?

There wasn't a single one.

If what one is looking for is a lifeless desolation, then there are far too many such memories. However, what Jibril is looking for is the place where she lingered for two years in her long life.

The lake water is dark green and exudes a fresh medicinal fragrance.

A wooden house covered in green moss.

Those novel things created out of whim and curiosity, randomly piled up on the island.

……

There wasn't a single one.

Chapter 261 Fragments

It was as if a box had been stuffed with far more than its capacity, and the chain binding the lid had finally snapped. The contents of the box were gushing out, with things of all sizes being flung hundreds of meters away.

Looking around, all that remains in sight are scattered fragments of wreckage; most of the debris has been reduced to ashes by the aftershocks of this war that has only just ended, and has completely disappeared from this world.

The ancient...Sixth Blessing?

Jibril recalled the time when she chose to leave Sul's side and never return. How much had that forest elf weed strengthened her proud protective spell?

Unfortunately, under such intense warfare, the small wooden house, which was swaying like a storm, was ultimately destroyed by the energy generated by the marrow explosion that Azriel could not completely suppress.

Even so, it was good enough. At least when she turned over the heated rocks and the various items piled up in the room, Jibril could still see some familiar things... That weed did have some strength, after all.

Jibril wanted to think this way easily, but after trying a few times, she found that she still couldn't get excited. Her nerves, which had been overheated by the killing and war during the battle, had quietly drifted away from her.

At least when she saw the desolate ruins before her, she couldn't bring herself to feel happy.

Without even using magic, Jibril simply lifted the log lying across the ruins with one hand. These remnants of what once belonged to the hut were now quietly burning with orange-red flames, crackling and popping. With Jibril's sudden movement, the log she lifted broke in the middle amidst the burning sound and rolled to the side with a bang.

Ignoring the changes, Jibril even walked into the ruins with a sense of urgency. Her boots creaked as she stepped on the ashes. Apart from the elves who had cast her spells and hadn't completely dissipated, she could accurately identify who the room, which was still barely intact, belonged to.

In that wooden house, the room with only one person was arguably the safest and most secure place in the entire house.

The decorative crescent-shaped ornament hanging from the ceiling was reduced to a few gleaming silver pieces half-buried in the ashes. The pale blue bedding had been burned into a clump of charred remains. Stepping over the pungent flames, Jibril hurried to the spot where Sull's bedside had once been.

The bedside table that Sull loved most, made of wood that gave off a minty scent, is now buried in ashes and dust. A burning log that fell from the roof landed right on top of it, breaking and bending the table itself.

Reaching out, she brushed away the ashes from the half-exposed surface of the cabinet. Underneath the log, Jibril spotted half a piece of the intricately patterned border and easily pulled it out from under the log with minimal effort.

Tossing aside the broken frame, Jibril stared at the photograph in her hand. It was scorched by the heat of the flames, turning yellow and warped, with most of it charred black. It would break and fall apart at the slightest touch of a finger.

It was no longer possible to see the entire photograph clearly; the yellowing erosion was almost spreading to its entirety. But even so, Jibril could still see the patterns in the photograph, half of which were real objects and half of which were memories.

A pure white world, surrounded by blue and white smoke, irregular crystal-like giant rocks floating in mid-air, and a face that was so panicked by the sudden fall from the sky that it opened its mouth wide and screamed, its pupils filled with panic and fear, and... enjoying the pleasure of the prank, laughing wildly, and even tightly hugging the man's arm to stop him from moving.

Only fragments remained.

With her lips pressed tightly together in silence, Jibril stood there quietly, staring at the tattered photograph on her fingertips, as if she had turned into a stone statue. In this ruin, only the crackling sound of burning firewood and the ceaseless wind could be heard.

After an unknown amount of time, Jibril was suddenly awakened by a familiar spatial fluctuation, followed by a cheerful greeting.

"Little Lucky Meow~~~"

Without a doubt, it was that senior who had been clinging to him since birth.

Finally lowering her arm, the charred photograph, almost unrecognizable, vanished from Jibril's fingertips with a flick of her fingers—for some reason, she just didn't want anyone to know she possessed such a thing.

Even if one doesn't want to hear anything out of curiosity, physical actions are far faster than rational thought.

"...Is there something you need, Azriel-senpai?" Jibril greeted her as usual, her gaze sweeping over the wooden cabinet that had caught fire. The wood, which always exuded a refreshing minty scent, emitted the same aroma as it burned.

It's even more concentrated.

Jibril didn't know what the man meant by the smell of mint, but if it was this kind of smell, then she thought... she might like it too.

Within that flame, many things, now reduced to ashes, still burned... The man always liked to pile them up in a place he could see as soon as he opened his eyes each day...

It turned into dust.

"Hey~~, Little Lucky~~, Little Lucky Meow~~~"

Such a loud voice right next to her ear was extremely annoying. By the time Jibril realized what was happening, her usually unimpressive senior had almost wrapped his legs around her waist and pressed himself against her.

"Little Lucky Meow~~~, are you listening~~"

"...Is there something you need, Azriel-senpai?" Unable to bear the clinginess any longer, Jibril burst through space and appeared on the other side of the open ground, escaping from Azriel's embrace.

"Of course it's because of that piece of scrap metal, meow!" Even though her body hadn't regressed to a childlike form due to weakness, Azriel shouted and yelled like a child with her hands on her hips. She was already used to Jibril's avoidance and resistance, and such a small thing wouldn't hurt her at all.

"That's a head that's comparable to the head of a dragon spirit, an extremely rare head, meow! It's all because of Xiao Ji that she got away!"

Azriel's eyes welled up with tears whenever she talked about it, and her voice even trembled with sobs.

Chapter 262 Wings

“…Ah, is that so?” Jibril exclaimed, raising her head slightly as if suddenly realizing something. She had truly forgotten that such a thing had happened during the previous battle; at least for her, it was something she didn’t need to take to heart at all.

"What do you mean 'that's true, meow! I'm getting angry, meow, Xiao Ji! I'm really going to get angry!"

Completely disregarding her image, Azriel even started rolling around in mid-air.

"...It's just a head, is there any need for such a big reaction?" Completely ignoring Azriel's commotion, Jibril turned around and began searching through the ruins.

Based on her understanding of that hamster-like man, he always liked to hoard good things, and since this was his room…

"Huh? What do you mean 'just a head'?!" Shocked and drawing out her words, Azriel practically teleported in front of Jibril, staring upside down into her eyes as she said, "This is not something Jibril would say, meow!!!"

She began to suspect that her sister, with whom she had spent so much time, had been quietly replaced. Azriel even reached out to pinch Jibril's cheek, but was forcefully slapped away.

“If it were the old Jibril, she would have been even more frustrated than me! She would probably have searched every possible place that scrap metal might have been transported to, looking for every single trace!” Azriel, who thought she knew every inch of Jibril perfectly, questioned loudly.

However, her words did not elicit any reaction from Jibril. In fact, even Jibril herself was in a very strange state of mind at this moment. It was a question, yet not a question—when exactly did she lose the emotion she should have felt for those rare heads?

That was by no means because she preferred fighting against the strong and constantly making herself stronger. These two things are not contradictory at all. In other words, striving to defeat the strong and then taking their heads was what Jibril used to love the most.

When exactly did she become so nonchalant, so nonchalant that it seemed she didn't even need to think, uttering words like "it's just a head" as if it were an unconscious instinct?

Jibril stopped searching through the wreckage of the room, remaining in that position for a long time before resuming her activities.

"It doesn't matter, does it?" Jibril said calmly, without revealing any abnormality. "It's just that I prefer the feeling of fighting powerful enemies now compared to my past self... That's enough for me."

"Huh~~~?" Azriel trailed off, slowly floating up behind Jibril. "I thought you were doing this because you wanted to sneak away with that piece of scrap metal, little Jibril."

At an unexpected moment, the emerald-haired Skywing asked a question without warning, his expression unreadable, and without his usual catchphrase.

"What are you saying, Senior Azriel?" Without the slightest pause or hesitation, Jibril calmly replied, "I am my master's wing, and it is only right that I dedicate everything to my master—this is something without a doubt and without any need for doubt."

“Yes, meow~” Azriel’s cheerful voice said, “We are all our master’s wings, and our master’s will is the direction we move in. Our master’s enemies are those we will destroy even at the cost of our lives. If we violate this principle, then we have no reason to exist, meow~”

Her words received no response.

"Well~, whatever, anyway, Master's order was just a greeting... Breaking that out-of-the-way hand of that inexplicably appearing enemy is a greeting, right? I don't know if it counts or not, it's so annoying, meow..." With a big yawn and stretching, Azriel disappeared into thin air the next second, leaving Jibril with an unfinished sentence.

"Come back soon, Little Lucky Meow~. Although we lost a few winged sisters, we still achieved a resounding victory, so we have to celebrate properly, meow~~~"

Azriel's last words vanished into thin air along with shimmering white light. Jibril put down the wooden block in her hand; not a trace of charred carbon dust remained on her hands. She stood up and turned to gaze at the spot where her elder sister, the eldest of all the Winged Races, had disappeared, remaining silent for a long time.

Unable to articulate her feelings in words, Jibril was certain that what she possessed at that moment was far more than just the joy of victory in war.

--------------

The deep, heavy breathing sounded as if it weren't the person breathing at the very center of this dark cavern, but rather the entire cavern itself coming to life, interacting with the world—a sleeping behemoth.

There was no light, no sound, only the endless, tide-like breathing. Even the boldest and fiercest beasts would not dare to approach this place, for fear emanated from their very bones.

In this world that seemed destined to remain forever silent, a sound suddenly broke the rhythm, as if unable to bear the loneliness any longer.

Let me say something.

Along with the sound, the grass blades also glowed as if breathing. Suer was calling out, but no sound responded to him, as if he had gone mad and was talking to himself.

Don't be so uncooperative... Say something... Anything is fine...

Leaning against the trees and vines that had swallowed most of his body, Sull, living a twisted life by clinging to these external objects, continued to repeat with his eyes half-closed.

He wasn't going crazy; he was indeed conversing with a being that existed here alongside him.

And amidst his repeated urging, another voice finally rang out in the dark cave.

Why?

"I mean, we've known each other for over a decade now... so much time has passed... why is the question I hear most often from you still 'question'?"

Suer smiled wryly.

The questions... are endless.

That's how the voice answered Suer.

I possess a vast scroll large enough to cover the entire sky, on which are recorded the questions I have raised over hundreds of millions of years.

It wasn't Suer's imagination; when he gave that answer, he did indeed hear a barely perceptible hint of joy and boastfulness in that voice—the voice of the God of Doubt.

Pfft... I wasn't complimenting you... you idiot.

Suer chuckled softly, and the shimmering blades of grass swayed with his laughter.

Chapter 263 The Road