Zenith made his move, and the others quickly finished off their respective opponents. The Seven Sages of Destruction were now completely finished, failing to make even a single splash.
"Is it really over just like that?"
South Hero still couldn't quite believe it. The predetermined fate, the supposedly fatal battle against the Seven Sages of Destruction, had shattered the prophecy as if it were a joke.
Then again, since they had partied up with Zenith, the future was bound to be smooth sailing. Since they were already using cheats, who would insist on playing on hard mode?
"What else did you expect? They were just seven elite mobs." Zenith picked a bed and immediately went to sleep. It didn't matter whether they had a matchbox house built around them or not; it wasn't like these monsters could catch a cold anyway.
That was what Zenith thought, but unfortunately, Frieren didn't do him the favor of proving him right. Early the next morning, she came down with a high fever. Her temperature hit forty-one degrees Celsius, complete with a stuffy nose and a sore throat. She looked absolutely pitiful.
This didn't make any sense. Even back when he was watching the anime, Zenith had always wondered: why would these fighters, who possessed enough internal mana to easily obliterate a mountain, still be troubled by ordinary bacteria and viruses?
At any rate, he had never heard of any martial arts master or immortal cultivator catching a cold.
"Mana is a form of energy. The more powerful a mage is, the stronger their mental fortitude becomes, but their physical bodies do not receive much enhancement."
Serie gave a brief explanation. "This is a theoretical overview taught before one even begins learning magic, so it's normal that you don't know it. Simply put, magic is a tool. No matter how powerful the tool is, the physical boost it provides is limited."
This was Serie's theory. It didn't mean everyone agreed with it, but the general idea was correct.
Zenith quickly extracted the key point. "Learning magic doesn't evolve your lifeform level. The path of magic is about tempering the mind to the absolute limit of transcendence. By then, the physical body is nothing more than a shackle that can be cast off at any time."
No wonder mages were so squishy. Before their minds could reach a state where they could exist independently of their physical bodies, they would still die instantly if stabbed in a vital organ, no matter how strong their magic was.
This was far too extreme. Whether it was pure physical enhancement or pure mental enhancement, both were radical paths. That which is too rigid easily breaks. Without understanding the way of harmony, this type of system would naturally be limited by lifespan issues.
With Heiter the priest in the party, his skills were completely reliable—as long as he wasn't drinking. He had plenty of healing output and was well-versed in pharmacology, making minor illnesses and ailments a piece of cake for him to cure.
Schlacht's death was incredibly fatal to the demons. A prophet's duty was to formulate attack routes and plan the development of their race.
Schlacht could see the future, and he was a rare anomaly who possessed a sense of personal identity and loyalty to the demon race. The plans he laid out were the optimal routes chosen after observing the future countless times. That was why the demon faction's power in this era was so exaggerated, nearly wiping out two-thirds of humanity single-handedly.
The demons' cheat code—their constant maphack and strategy simulation—had been banned, ushering in the era of humanity's counterattack. The human allied forces took over the role that South Hero once played, ensuring that Zenith and his group encountered no major resistance along the way.
"We have to split up for now." As they drew closer and closer to the Demon King's castle, the Demon King's aura in Serie's perception grew increasingly powerful.
"Killing intent, fighting spirit, ambition, desire—many things can become the Demon King's strength. My presence here will only make the Demon King stronger."
The stronger the original power, the stronger the power fed back to him. Zenith was a pure troll who only cared about having fun, so the Demon King couldn't siphon a single drop of power from him. But Serie was different.
Serie craved war, because just like an arms race, war would stimulate the advancement of magic.
As someone from the future, Serie's magical power was beyond the imagination of anyone in this era. It was like how a World War I navy couldn't fathom an aircraft carrier.
Zenith also realized a few issues. With him and Serie just standing there, Himmel and the others were actually a bit restrained.
Even though there wasn't much of a generational gap in terms of age, for some reason, this group seemed to unanimously treat him and Serie as their elders.
After thinking it over, he decided he might as well leave the party too. At their current pace of stopping and going, it would probably take another seven or eight years to reach the Demon King.
They were used to it, feeling that this was a grand adventure that would span their entire lives, but Zenith was starting to feel a bit of aesthetic fatigue.
Another important reason was that he wanted to see Fern and Stark sooner. Those two lovebirds were so fun to watch together. What if his excessive interference in the plot caused a butterfly effect that erased their existence?
Zenith, the man of action, went to work. He dug out a new video camera and a large box of memory cards, handing them to South Hero. "I'll leave the journey recording to you. Remember to film what the Demon King looks like and what abilities he has!"
The most important matter involved Himmel. Zenith leaned in close to his ear and secretly whispered a whole bunch of things. Then, the two exchanged a glance and nodded firmly.
"Are you done giving instructions?" Serie blinked. "I thought you would insist on subjugating the Demon King yourself."
"There are plenty of Demon Kings out there, aren't there? I don't necessarily have to fight this one. Wait for me to break all the portals I opened here. Once everyone has evacuated, we'll head straight to the future."
Although she didn't quite understand, Serie indicated that she would obediently play her role as the teleportation magic tool.
There were two ways to use magic. One relied on imagination—just clap your hands together and whatever you wanted would appear. The other involved precisely constructing magic circles and circuits, calculating mana nodes through formulas.
Unfortunately, Zenith's foundation had been laid by Frieren, so he followed the second path. However, the amount of calculation required for spatial magic was simply too absurd. He took one look at it and immediately gave up on that method of teleportation.
Handling this part of the business took over a month. It was mainly because he had his own satellites in the sky; otherwise, it would have been practically impossible to recall every single person scattered across the world in this era without missing anyone.
Zenith and Serie returned to the Village of the Sword. Leaping to the future required the cooperation of the Creation Goddess, and the Hero's Sword was the only method he knew of to actively contact Her.
Actually, when devout believers prayed, there was a chance they could contact the Goddess. But even if Zenith dared to kneel, She wouldn't dare accept it.
"Tossing you directly into the future like I did with Serie is unrealistic. Your existence has firmly anchored this timeline; even I cannot shake it. Use that portal-opening method of yours. I can still manage to influence the portal's target coordinates."
To these creator gods, there was no such thing as a true past or future within their own worlds. To Them, time was merely a parameter on a coordinate system.
Dragging Serie back to his main world, he waited a few minutes before opening it again. The portal vibrated slightly before returning to normal.
"That should do it. If we cross through again, it should be eighty years in the future."
Serie was very curious about Zenith's main world; she caught the scent of brand-new knowledge. However, now was naturally not the time to study it. She asked curiously,
"It's only eighty years. Couldn't we just find a place to read some books, and eighty years would pass just like that?"
Perhaps the future really would be like that. As the length of one's life increased, their perception of time would become increasingly blurred. But at least for now, Zenith was unwilling to waste eighty years of his life.
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