The Last Surviving Alchemist Wants to Live Quietly in the City

"This is better wood than I thought! I don't think I can use enough of the rice noodles.

Grand Dollar, Franz, excuse me. Give me a hand.

Eurike, there must have been a workshop ahead that could have been machined. I'm sorry, but I need you to take me to Raptor.

Edgan and Sieg are tired. You can rest for a while. "

Donino is delighted with the quality of the “necklace" wood and divides his work among everyone.

Finally freed from work, Edgan and Sieg are on the spot amicably when they reply groaningly.

It seems that cutting down the "necklace" and coarsely processing it was a heavy labor besides thoughts.

"The axe. You don't want to mess with it."

At the behest of Donino, Edgan and Sieg processed wood with a long sword of double swords and misrills, but processed hard materials with tools in time. Fatigue won't be halfway through.

Demons, especially swords made to cleave animals, are not suitable for cutting trees.

Thin, sharply crafted sashimi easily spills blades into hard, thick wood and is easily lost, and in some cases deformed or fatigued.

So both Zeke and Edgan processed the wood by putting their magic together and strengthening themselves, but the unfamiliar movement of cutting and processing the trees and the prolonged magic manipulation seemed to be quite tiring, and the two seemed to have no energy left to fight.

"Sieg, Mr. Edgan, I'll leave the meal here, so rest a little when you eat."

When Mariella prepared the meal for the two, she followed the southeast tower with a sleigh like chase after Donino and the others.

Mariella still has something to know.

"I miss the cabin room in the Devil's Forest."

The place Mariella chose to dream in was a room that was recreated two hundred years ago, the cabin of the Devil's Forest where she lived with her master. To make the potion, I knew the location because I had visited it once, and the route safety was confirmed.

The cabin in the Devil's Forest was very small, the workshop, kitchen and living room were used together, and later only the bedroom. The area was also small, so Mariella and her master's bedroom, separated by soda, were reproduced here as well.

"You slept with my master right after he gave it to you."

How old was it when I started sleeping separately?

It's "hot," or "you want your own room, right?" Or did you have to sleep away from a room so small that it was partitioned even though you said why? "

"Caw."

Even though she said she wasn't sleepy yet, Mariella dived into her nostalgic master's bunk and closed her eyes as she hugged her cuddly as she said, "You mustn't run away," to the muggling salamander.

The city was burning.

People were burning.

The city was full of mourning.

To the spirits of the flames that had just arisen, there was no judgment of good or evil in a man's possession, but he gathered, swarmed, and burned, and swallowed up everything in the city.

When the blood of the man to be cut to death was as red as a flame, the Spirit of that flame became aware for the first time then.

Voices of those who cry and flee and those who seek help.

It was also the sword trident of the same species, the same man, and the military shoes, and the exalted cry, that listened to them all, or took them with the expression of pleasure, and turned them into the cry of the Terminator.

People kill people.

People burn people's cities.

That miserable creature may be engraved in a man's history and told for a long time, but for those other spirits who look at this miserable state of affairs, it's just like watching a storm.

If you try to count the lives lost, it won't extend to earthquakes or eruptions. For the spirits, the nest of ants seems so much the same as being attacked by a different species of ants.

Except for the Spirit of the One Flame...

- No, no, no. Don't die like this.

Anger, sadness, lots of black emotions keep flowing...!! -

The path is that the flow of the black river is already ready.

The black emotions that people call obscenities and curses flow across the forest that people call the Devil's Forest and into that lake.

As long as it's a small amount.

The filth melts into the lake and spreads throughout the Devil's Forest. And dwell in the woods, in the animals.

Although the majority of creatures living in demonic forests have been turned into demons, creatures called demons are only irritable or physically strong, and do not depart from the biological logic of being born, eaten, eaten, bred, and aged and dying.

Throughout his life, he scorched his body and body and purified it, eventually returning to the earth's veins.

Until the city of man was attacked, the Spirit of Fire believed that the equilibrium between the city of man and the Devil's Forest was preserved considerably. The fouling that occurred in the city of man was sometimes cleansed with as much flame as possible, but more than that, the forest of demons itself served well as a purifying mechanism of fouling.

But I can't accept what's wrong with so much trouble that people's cities are attacked and burned down.

- This is not good. This amount is unacceptable. If so much filth pours in, that lake, that spirit--

The foolish act of people losing people from city to city, called war, was reflected in something similar to predatory activity between animals of what, from the eyes of many spirits, is a big deal. But creatures other than people don't raise such grudges. You don't curse enemies who try to take away all their anger, resentment, mourning, grief, and obscenity.

- No, no, no, no.

From the burned corpse, a black smudge like coal rises from the burnt-down house.

- No, I don't want you to go.

A ghost who loses his life but goes astray from the city unaware of the fact is raising the voice of a curse.

- I don't want to tarnish the spirits of that lake any more...!! -

A spirit is just what's out there.

In the wind that blows, just dwell in the flames that light, and flow with the water, and drain your life with the earth.

In that case, neither happiness nor misfortune, nor even the judgment of good or evil, are inherently present.

The earth moisturizes the rich river streams, even when the lights are lit in a city full of life.

Whether the land dries up in drought, ponds dries up or forests burn in a mountain fire and many lives are lost.

A Spirit is a being that accepts everything as it is, and because it is such a being, it cannot be inherently that you want something strong.

If you wanted something strong, for that matter, if you sacrificed something, it could no longer be just a spirit (the embodiment of an event).

If you have a self, you will never be able to do it again, such as just dwell in a city light and return to just a flame that will wiggle out.

But the Spirit of Fire wanted it.

I made a strong wish to make it happen.

And the Spirit of Fire, which had existed for a long time as an individual, was equipped with the power to fulfill his wishes.

- I won't let you. I'm gonna burn everything down here.

Because that is the only way for that body, which is a flame.

The storm and flames burn down the city. People, houses, food, treasures.

A violent storm and a flame wipe people out of charcoal. The enemy, the ally, the living and the dead.

To the momentum of the wild flames, to the stormy fierceness, the prayers and curses swallow all of men like turbulence, burning and burning as they are, turning them into mere ashes.

- Burn it, burn it, burn it down. The curse and filth of the missing pieces is what makes you go to that lake...!! -

The momentum of the flame even involved many flaming spirits, and it burned heavily and strongly.

Black smoke blowing up, black coal.

Even that missed, the fire column rose, and even the cloudy weather dyed red and red.

Was it the sound of people screaming, or was it the sound of the city collapsing?

But even if the flames burn so much, we can't stop the air flow or change the river flow.

The thoughts of those who dived through the gap between the purifying hands of the flames, the black filth, mourning this tragedy, grief, resentment and anger, and no place to go, flowed from high to low to that lake.

- I won't let you get away, I won't let you go. No, no, no, no. I don't want to...

The flames that swallowed and burned down the city stretched its hemline to the woods as they followed the black filth.

The flames have become desirable.

Um, he doesn't want to tarnish the spirits of the lake any more, he doesn't want to suffer.

There was a sense of value.

The spirits of that flame had determined that the negative emotions a person produces are dirty and bad.

There was a thought that defined the advantages and disadvantages. I had the idea of defining good and evil.

The spirits of the lake were important, and the lives of men who made the spirits of the lake disappoint were not taken into account.

Even at the cost of burning and sacrificing people and beasts in flames, there was a propitious sentiment, a desire to help the Spirit of the Lake.

- I'm going now.

The Spirit of Fire understood that he wished to see him so.

I understood what my emotions were, not wanting to sift for the spirits of the lake.

That's why.

Burned houses, burned shops, burned roads, burned cities.

He burned the woods, burned the worms, burned the beasts, burned the people.

The baby, the old man, the man, the woman, the living, the dead, all returned to the placid vein.

And finally, the Spirit of the Flame reached the lake of the Devil's Forest.

Though the appearance of burning the whole thing apart remained the same as the event of flames.

- To bake dirt and clean it up. To keep you from coming here any longer.

Not to molest you any more……!! -

That's what the Spirit of Fire shouts on the banks of a dark lake. Grilling and scorching the filth that hangs around the chili.

- You really think so...? -

As the black abyss flipped and flourished, the spirits of the lake, which emerged from the lake's surface, asked the spirits of the flames that way in the serenity of the night.

He told the Spirit of Fire that the dark colour did not help him in time.

- If the filth is going to flow on me, then this blasted filth is what I am now.

Accepting the way it is and just being with the world seems like our spirits, right? -

So much so that the Spirit of Fire breathed unexpectedly, that the Spirit of the lake, who took on the filth, was stained black, and yet he neither resented nor hated the man who caused the filth.

Demons attack people only because the filth that people in demons resent people makes them do so.

Like much of a change in the Spirit of the Lake, the Spirit of Fire pours sparks out of his eyes instead of tears without words. Black eyes stared at the condition and smiled just a little.

- It's warm to think of you.

Anger, sorrow, suffering, sorrow, thousands of disturbances and ravages its heart is as if it were a flame itself.

Hey, but, you know what?

Think of someone and sift strength for someone.

It's like a man's heart. ――

The Spirit of Fire swallowed his breath to draw the word, spinning the word to squeeze it out.

- If I have a heart, you gave it to me... -

It appeared in the eyes of the Spirit of the Lake in a very beautiful way, like a lightning fire that illuminated the darkness of night everywhere, like a scattered flower in bloom, as if it were a spark instead of a patch and a tear, while putting together a black stain like coal for only a portion of its burnt life.

The Spirit of the Lake approaches the Spirit of Fire as it glides over the lake, as it reaches out to the fiercely swinging flame.

- Come on.

That's what the Spirit of the Lake said, and he hand-invited a black smudge that was burned by the body of the Spirit of Fire but still clung together.

- No! No more... -

- I don't mind. Apparently, I have feelings for taking on your filth, too.

Naturally enough not to know which comes first, the two spirits reach out to each other and overlap each other so much that their palms touch each other. The fingertips of the two spirits were only superimposed separately by about a piece of paper of air, and the fingertips of the spirits of the soil and lake became steam and disappeared into the sky, and the fingertips of the carpet and the flaming spirits were also deprived of heat and diminished.

No matter how long it has existed and how powerful the Spirit has become, water and flames never come into contact.

As long as the water is water and the flame is flame, the Spirit is bound to its sexuality.

- Still, I want to blame you for your filth. What did you do?

- It's a wish that goes beyond the role of the Spirit -

To the Spirit of the Lake laughing that it was impossible, the Spirit of Fire begged for a name instead of an answer.

- Hey, tell me your name? Your name.

So that I can connect with my heart where I am and what I look like.

And remember you, too.

My name, my thoughts.

I am…… My name is Frazija, the Spirit of Fire…

The name of the Spirit of the lake, which was told according to his wishes, seemed to be the appearance of the day of his presence, which was filled with clear water, and Frazija, wishing to regain the appearance of the Spirit of the lake that day, was so burning.

"I was wondering if it wasn't..."

Waking up Mariella snapped like a solitaire.

From his eyes, tears are spilled.

"Other memories were fine…………"

That city, given its distance from the Devil's Forest, is probably the place now called Imperial Capital.

It was somewhat predictable that Mariela had never been to the Imperial Capital, but that the war she had just seen was an old one that had not been around for hundreds of years.

If so, how long has the master lived?

After that long, long time, Mariella became so sad that her chest was tightened that she burst into tears holding Salamander in her arms.

"Queue."

To comfort Mariela, who spills tears quietly, Salamander gave me a burst of tears.