06.2 – New Friend [2]

The archives were everything Velmira had hoped for; floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with books, scrolls, and preserved documents.

The smell of old paper and leather hung in the air, it’s familiar and comforting in a way that surprised her.

Aldric led her to his usual research area, a corner table covered with his notes and sketches.

"This is everything I've compiled on the anomalous ruins," he said, spreading out papers. "Three confirmed sites, two possibles. All within a week's travel of Waal."

He pointed to a map.

"The closest one is here, northeast. The farthest is here, near the border with the northern territories."

Velmira studied the locations. One of them was definitely the ruin where she'd found K.M.'s message.

"When can we visit them?" she asked.

"I'll need to request leave from my duties. Probably a week to get approval."

Aldric pulled out more sketches; detailed renderings of the architectural features he'd documented.

"In the meantime, I can show you what I've found. The geometric patterns, the mana signatures, the material composition — all of it points to something beyond our current understanding of magic."

He wasn't wrong. He was just missing the context that would make everything make sense.

Velmira spent the next several hours reviewing his research, offering insights that made his eyes light up with excitement.

She was careful not to reveal too much, but even small corrections and observations were enough to make Aldric practically vibrate with enthusiasm.

"This is incredible," he said, poring over a sketch she'd annotated.

"These connections, I'd never considered that the structural elements might be integrated magical circuits rather than decorative features. That completely changes how we interpret the energy flow patterns."

He started pulling more books from the shelves, cross-referencing, then making new notes. Velmira watched him work, seeing the passion that drove him.

Then he started coughing.

It began as a small thing, easily dismissed.

But it escalated quickly, doubling him over.

He fumbled for a handkerchief, pressing it to his mouth.

When he pulled it away, Velmira's vampiric senses detected it immediately: blood.

Not much. Just small spots on the fabric. But unmistakable.

Aldric saw her noticing and quickly folded the handkerchief, tucking it away.

"Sorry. Dry air in the archives. Always makes me cough."

"That wasn't just coughing," Velmira said quietly. "You're sick. Seriously sick."

His expression closed off.

"It's nothing. Just a chronic condition. I manage it."

"Aldric." She kept her voice gentle but firm. "I can smell the blood. Don't lie to me."

He stared at her for a long moment, probably wondering how she could smell something so subtle. Then his shoulders sagged.

"I have a progressive lung disease," he admitted quietly.

"I've had it for three years. The healers say there's no cure, just... time. Two years, maybe three if I'm lucky."

He tried to smile.

"That's why I'm rushing with the research. Want to finish something important before..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.

Velmira felt something crack inside her chest.

She'd known this would happen eventually; humans died, that was their nature.

But she'd thought she'd have more time before facing it directly.

Before caring about someone whose mortality was counted in years instead of centuries.

"Is that why you work so hard?" she asked. "Why you practically live in these archives?"

"I want to leave something behind. Some contribution to knowledge that outlasts me…"

Aldric looked down at his sketches.

"Most people don't get to choose what they're remembered for. I have just enough time to choose. To make something meaningful."

Velmira thought of K.M.'s message carved into stone. Of their desperate search for others, for answers, for some way to make sense of their situation. They'd left a breadcrumb trail, a message for whoever came after.

Legacy. Meaning. The things mortals created because they knew their time was finite.

She could walk away now. Should walk away, probably. Save herself the pain of watching another person she cared about fade and die. Keep moving, keep isolated, avoid all the grief that connection inevitably brought.

Or she could stay. Help him finish his work. Make his remaining time meaningful, even knowing it would hurt when it ended.

Frieren had chosen to take mortal apprentices. Had chosen connection despite the inevitable loss.

Velmira made her choice.

"Then we'd better not waste time," she said. "Show me everything you've found. Every site, every theory, every question you haven't been able to answer. We'll figure it out together."

Aldric's expression transformed, surprised.

"You mean it?"

"I mean it. Two years, three years, however long you have… let's make it count."

He extended his hand again, and she took it. A partnership formed not despite his mortality but because of it. Because the time mattered precisely because it would end.

"Thank you," Aldric said quietly. "You have no idea what this means to me."

But she did. She understood exactly what it meant, and that's why it hurt even as she made the commitment.

They worked until the archives closed, planning their expedition to the nearest ruin site, organizing research materials, and building the framework of their collaboration.

When they finally left the Association building, the sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple.

"I'll request leave tomorrow," Aldric said as they walked toward his boarding house.

"We should be able to depart within a week. The site's about three days' travel northeast, through some rough terrain but nothing dangerous."

"I'll prepare supplies," Velmira said. "And find lodging here in Waal."

"There's a decent boarding house near mine. They have clean rooms and reasonable prices. I can introduce you to the landlady if you'd like."

They made practical arrangements, discussing logistics and timelines.

But underneath the mundane conversation, Velmira felt the weight of what she'd committed to.

She was choosing connection.

Choosing to care about someone whose time was already running out.

Choosing pain over safety.

The choice Frieren had made when she took Fern as an apprentice.

The choice that defined humanity despite — or perhaps because of — its inevitable cost.

***

Far to the north, in the magical city of Äußerst, Genau walked through the corridors of the Continental Magic Association's northern branch.

The building was grander than Waal's modest office; a proper tower, four stories of stone and enchanted glass that housed hundreds of mages and containing one of the largest magical libraries on the continent.

At the top of the tower, in a chamber that overlooked the city, Serie sat reviewing spell theory manuscripts.

She looked no older than twenty, with long hair and an ageless face that betrayed nothing of the millennium she'd lived. Papers surrounded her; all magical formulas and theoretical frameworks that would have taken lesser mages decades to parse.

She barely looked up as Genau entered.

"Report," she said simply.

"The northern route stabilization is proceeding on schedule," Genau began, running through routine matters. "Second-class mage Rivkah has eliminated three demon scouts. The Merchant Guild's concerns about safety have been addressed."

"Acceptable. Continue."

Genau hesitated, then added, "I encountered an unusual mage in Waal today. A visiting scholar with foreign origins. Her mana signature was... anomalous."

That got Serie's attention. She set down the manuscript, looking at him directly.

"Anomalous how?"

"Structured. Almost artificially so. Like looking at architecture rather than organic magical growth." He paused. "I've studied every major magical tradition on the continent. This was unlike any of them."

"Another eccentric hedge mage claiming unique methods," Serie said, her tone dismissive. "The continent is full of them. Self-taught practitioners who cobble together techniques from stolen grimoires and half-understood theories, then declare themselves revolutionary."

"This felt different—"

"Everything feels different to you, Genau. You see anomalies because you look for them." Serie returned to her manuscript. "If she causes problems, the Waal branch will handle it. I don't waste time investigating every oddity you sense. That's what branch administrators are for."

"Should I file a formal report?"

"If you wish. Include it with the routine observations." Serie's tone made it clear the subject was closed. "Was there anything else?"

"No, Master Serie."

"Then you're dismissed. I have work to complete."

Genau bowed and left, though the unusual mana signature lingered in his thoughts.

Perhaps Serie was right… perhaps he was seeing significance where there was none. He'd investigated dozens of supposedly anomalous mages over the years, and most had proven to be exactly what Serie described: eccentric but harmless.

Still, he made a note in his personal research journal. Foreign mage, eastern origins, anomalous mana structure. If her name surfaced again, he'd know to pay attention.

Back in her chamber, Serie returned her focus to the spell theory before her, already forgetting Genau's report. She had lived over a thousand years. She had encountered countless unusual beings, strange magic users, anomalies that seemed significant until they proved to be nothing.

One more oddity in Waal was beneath her notice.

If this foreign mage became dangerous, time would reveal it. If she was harmless, then Serie would have wasted no effort.

Efficient. Practical. The approach that came from living long enough to learn which battles were worth fighting.

She had no way of knowing that the anomaly in Waal was a fragment of a world that should never have intersected with her own. That the structured mana signature came not from any earthly tradition but from a video game made manifest.

That she'd just dismissed what would eventually become one of the most significant encounters of her immortal life.

But that was still years away.

For now, Serie simply returned to her work, and the foreign mage in Waal was filed away and forgotten.

Almost.

***

Velmira stood at the window of her newly rented room, watching the lights of Waal flicker in the darkness.

The boarding house was modest but clean, and the landlady had asked no uncomfortable questions about her appearance or habits.

She'd survived the day. Made it through Association bureaucracy, avoided immediate exposure, and formed a genuine partnership with someone who might become a friend.

But Genau had noticed her. He had sensed the wrongness of her magic. And probably reported it to Serie herself.

Velmira had bought time, nothing more.

If she became prominent enough, if her activities drew more attention, eventually someone would investigate thoroughly enough to discover what she really was.

Two years. Maybe three.

That's how long Aldric had. How long before this partnership ended in the inevitable way all her relationships with mortals would end.

She thought of Frieren, traveling with mortal apprentices despite knowing she'd outlive them by millennia.

Of K.M., carving desperate messages into stone ruins, searching for others who'd been transported.

Of Father Clemens saying that choice mattered more than nature.

"The time matters because it ends," Velmira whispered to the darkness.

Behind her, in the archives of the Continental Magic Association, Aldric was probably still working, racing against the clock that neither of them could stop.

And far to the north, Serie had already forgotten the foreign mage existed.

For now, that would have to be enough.

End of Chapter 6