As the words fell, and seeing that her disciple and the others had gathered behind her, Serie raised her right hand. Crystals formed of magic appeared out of thin air and constructed a dense, light-blocking barrier around the four of them.
Once the anti-light barrier was fully established, Serie's usual nonchalant demeanor grew slightly serious. The dormant magic within her stirred, and in an instant, it surged to her fingertips like a bottomless sea.
A few magic circles rapidly formed. Then Serie extended her finger, and a beam of pure black energy, no thicker than a thumb, shot out from its tip!
The wall and mountain mass separating the two sections of the labyrinth were instantly pierced through by this tiny ray of magical light.
Yet, rather than continuing wildly, the black beam stopped precisely at the opposite side of the labyrinth wall—like a black silk thread connecting both ends.
The next moment, the once-stable "black thread" destabilized and exploded with a massive surge of magical energy.
Inside the anti-light barrier—
Shut off from all external light, the barrier's interior was completely dark. Standing behind his master, Gut only sensed Serie's arm move slightly—then, seconds later, the ground shook violently.
Even within the pitch-black space, faint light briefly glimmered through.
Moments later, when the barrier was lifted, Gut looked forward—the wall had vanished. His teacher Serie had forcibly blasted open a tunnel where the path should have ended.
Yes, "a path of light." This was a factual statement, not flowery praise.
Sealing ore, besides suppressing magic power, also emits intense light when infused with magic.
Even though only a few fragments were embedded in the walls...
Even though the initial flash had already passed...
Staring at it too long would still sting the eyes.
"Let's go," Serie said.
"This bit of light is nothing—just pass through quickly."
With that, she stepped into the tunnel she'd carved out.
The others had no choice but to follow.
Watching his teacher's back, Gut couldn't help but wonder:
What sort of magical surge had she sensed to make her act so uncharacteristically proactive?
The answer came soon.
After passing through the blinding corridor and just regaining his vision, Gut saw a surprising figure.
"Frieren?"
"Who?!!"
From behind, Himmel, whose eyes were still overwhelmed by the light, cried out.
"Frieren—your old elf... old party member," Gut answered, only to get elbowed a second later.
A figure darted past him, deftly weaving through, and quickly crouched beside Frieren.
"Impressive," Gut muttered, twitching his mouth as he watched the Hero beat him to it.
Rather than closing in like Himmel, Gut stayed back a few paces, understanding that Serie likely had something to say to Frieren.
So, Gut sat down cross-legged and held back Mut, who wanted to eavesdrop more closely.
Together, they watched the scene unfold.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk."
Serie stood beside the slumped Frieren, smirking at the pitiful state of her disciple's disciple—soaked in Mimic slime and eyes tearing up from the sealing ore flash.
"So this is a mage of the peaceful era, huh?"
"What a disgrace, Frieren."
"Has your vigilance grown so dull that you can't even handle this kind of situation?"
Her words were full of mockery.
"Ugh..."
Frieren bit her lip. Though her vision was still dizzy from the flash, the familiar magic signature and the irritating voice made it obvious who had arrived.
"To think I'd run into you out here in a wild labyrinth... What awful luck!"
She growled back.
"Oh?" Serie arched an eyebrow, her palm glowing with gentle Healing Magic, teasing:
"Frieren, as the disciple of my disciple, if you beg me to heal your eyes... I might help you personally."
"It'll feel really good. Want to consider it?"
"Drop dead."
Frieren snapped, turning away to show her refusal.
"Tsk-tsk, such harsh words," Serie pouted.
Then, the elder mage took two steps forward, slammed her left hand on Frieren's head, and slapped the gathered Healing Magic onto her face haphazardly.
Himmel, beside them, audibly gasped.
Although Serie seemed to be rubbing magic all over Frieren's face with no finesse, the sheer power and sustained casting meant the treatment was highly effective.
Soon enough, Frieren's vision returned. She grabbed Serie's hand, glaring at her.
"Tsk, what's that look? Regardless of our relationship, I did just heal you, didn't I?"
"Then answer me!"
Frieren stood, arms akimbo.
"My eyes—why were they injured? Who did it?"
"Don't worry about that," Serie replied.
"The point is, I healed you. Be nicer when you speak to me."
Nearby, Gut bit his lip, barely holding in laughter.
This was truly a juicy spectacle—two elven "kids" bickering.
But unlike Gut, who was clearly enjoying the drama, Himmel gently tugged on Frieren's sleeve, quietly shaking his head as a sign to let it go.
"You're... Himmel?"
Though she had sensed his familiar presence earlier and hadn't reacted, Frieren had been too caught up in arguing to truly notice.
Maybe she had just grown used to him always being around.
"Himmel, you've turned into a total old man."
"Yup," Himmel brushed back his hair.
"But even as an old man, I'm still charming, right?"
"You've lost a ton of hair."
"I have not! And it'll grow back!"
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Powerstones?
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