A Real Human Being ( Frieren )

***

I advanced through the woods, my steps silent on the damp earth, my senses razor-sharp.

The presence hit my awareness like a cold weight pressing against my skull.

My body locked rigid. Eyes snapped to maximum focus. Ears filtered through the forest's ambient noise - wind through leaves, distant bird calls, the rustle of small prey. Something else moved beneath it all.

Footfalls. Heavy. Deliberate. Approaching fast.

One hundred meters.

The sound carved itself into distinct components: claws raking bark, the wet snap of breaking twigs, something large displacing underbrush with violent efficiency.

Eighty meters.

Sulfur. The acrid stench hit my nostrils, sharp enough to make my eyes water. Underneath it, something rotten. Like a meat that was decaying for a while.

Not a magical organism then, but the type of monster that lacks a magical core. Simply a living organism that seemed to have changed with mana. 

Sixty meters.

The footfalls quickened. No longer stalking - charging.

My fingernails extended into razors as I launched myself upward in a single fluid leap. Bark compressed under my claws as I found purchase on a thick oak branch fifteen feet up. Over a decade of evening training paid off - the movement felt automatic, practiced.

I trained a lot while I lived in the forest near that village - what was it - of Waldheim. Magically and physically. Never knew if it helped, especially the physical training, but I learned to hop around trees very well due to doing it every evening.

Still, my reinforcement had limits. Thirty minutes of constant enhanced mobility at most, and only if I kept the enhancement minimal. Just enough strength to make the impossible jumps.

Ten meters.

The impact shook the entire tree.

Something detonated below me - not fire, not force, but raw mana unleashed in a concussive burst. My body moved before conscious thought kicked in, vaulting to an adjacent pine as splinters of oak rained down.

I landed hard, immediately crouching to study my attacker.

The creature resembled a bear crossed with some child's worst nightmare. Black bear sized but as if built for killing, compact muscle wrapped in a coat of foot-long quills that gleamed like polished steel. Its snout jutted forward in a wedge of bone and cartilage, built for crushing. Rows of yellowed fangs lined its maw. Those baleful red eyes locked onto mine with predatory intelligence.

It snorted.

My enhanced reflexes screamed warnings. I dropped from the branch as a volley of quills whistled through the space I'd occupied, each one thick as my thumb and probably sharp enough to punch through armor.

I hit the forest floor in a crouch, just in time to see the creature curl into itself.

A living cannonball of spikes and fury rolled toward me at inhuman speed.

I threw myself sideways, feeling displaced air kiss my cheek as the creature missed by centimeters. It struck the pine behind me and exploded-not physically, but magically. Mana erupted outward in a sphere of destructive force that vaporized the trunk's base. The massive tree groaned and toppled.

My eyes narrowed to slits.

This thing matched me in terms of mana output. I'd fled from stronger monsters before, but this one sat squarely in my weight class. The tactical assessment was immediate and brutal: its quills outranged my claws by three to one. My only spell required physical contact to activate. If it could generate those mana explosions without the rolling attack…

The math was simple. I would die.

Decision crystallized instantly. I bounded onto the nearest tree, flooding my muscles with reinforcement magic - not the careful, conservative enhancement I usually used, but everything I could safely channel. My body became a blur of motion, leaping between branches, ricocheting off trunks, building velocity with each bound.

The creature pursued for perhaps a quarter mile, its roars of frustration echoing through the forest. But speed was my advantage. Eventually, the sounds faded behind me. Probably because it spent as much mana to keep pursuing as I did, and because I left its territory.

I landed on solid ground, my mana reserves nearly depleted.

Anger flooded my system - pure, crystalline rage that made my vision sharpen, and yet didn't reflect on my face. Emoting was unrelated to feelings for us, demons. The emotion felt foreign, rare enough that I noted its presence with clinical detachment even as it consumed me.

Losing stung. More than that, it exposed a fundamental weakness in my current capabilities. The monsters near my old territory, where I grew up, had been pathetic by comparison. This spike-bear/mutated porcupine was stronger than even the boar I had killed for those hunters, and I'd encountered a dozen creatures of similar power since leaving Nebeldorf.

My magical reserves weren't the problem. The issue was reach and striking power. As I was now, monster hunting for research purposes had become impossible. Not if this is the true level of monsters in the wild lands.

I needed to master human spells, those I've read in grimoires. Otherwise, I don't need to worry about the threat that humans, elves, and dwarves can represent to me, some nameless forest monster would eventually tear me apart for the crime of wandering into its territory.

***

Central Lands are vast.

The European continent could be crossed on foot or horseback within a year, albeit if no major complications arise and depending on how long the traveler rests in major cities or towns.

This is also roughly as long as it took Frieren and Fern to reach Northern Plateau, and it took them three years to reach the Äußerst since the start of their journey. While it's hard to say how many stops they made or for how long, I believe it still wouldn't be a stretch to compare this continent in its entirety to Eurasia. Perhaps it wasn't as big, but even half as big, or a third as big, would still make it colossal.

With that in mind, the Central Lands occupied about a third of the total territory of the continent.

Even Europe, during its Middle Ages, was full of scarcely populated and poorly explored areas. Before the Industrial Revolution, men couldn't hope to challenge nature, which is why forests, mountains, and seas always were eldritch, terrifying, and cruel forces in our folklore and songs. The truth was - men were in the mercy of the wilds, not the other way around.

In this world, this was also true. Perhaps even more true, considering monsters, demons, and whatever other horrors that could lurk away from civilization, that I may not know of yet.

I crouched beside the pile of tinder I'd spent the last ten minutes gathering - dry pine needles, shredded birch bark, and the finest twigs I could find, no thicker than matchsticks. My fingers were stiff as I arranged them in a loose nest, leaving gaps for air to flow through.

The spark I could produce without a lengthy preparation was pathetic - barely more than what you'd get from striking flint and steel, and it lasted maybe two seconds. But it would have to do.

The Central Lands were large, which was why it wasn't possible to categorize their landscape easily. From the manga, I expected Central Lands to be mostly hills and fields, with some rare, harmless forests in between.

This wasn't the case. There were hills and fields, of course, and those were much better populated. There were also thinner forests, either the younger ones or those tamed by either the current kingdom or the previous empire over the centuries.

But there were mountains, even away from the Northern Plateau. There were swamps. There were also wild and ancient woods, the likes of which I can only compare to the Black Forest back home.

In other words, the entirety of Central Lands was about as varied as Europe itself.

I cupped my hands around the tinder nest and focused, calling up that tiny flicker of flame. The spark caught the birch bark immediately - the papery strips curled and glowed orange. I leaned down and blew gently, just a whisper of breath. Too hard and I'd scatter the ember; too soft and it would die.

The glow spread slowly through the pine needles. I added more breath, watching the red creep along the edges. A thin wisp of smoke began to rise. Then another. The tinder started to crackle softly.

In Nebeldorf, while memorizing maps and even buying a few smaller ones, as I pretended that a single glance wasn't enough for me, I was searching precisely for such areas. My goal was still the Northern Lands, in terms of vast, uninhabited biomes, that land still far surpassed the Central Lands. However, I also knew that focusing on simply traveling there wasn't wise; it would be better to take my time, grow in strength via research, training, and simply growing older, as I made my way there.

Which was my goal. I have had a route in mind, through relatively unexplored areas, from one to another, towards the Northern Plateau.

From living in those woods near the human village for fourteen years, I knew that my research wasn't sustainable. Eventually, whatever monsters lived in the area would run out as I experimented on them, and I would have to move on. This was part of the plan.

Then there was my catastrophic failure of keeping myself in check, and I had to run. The plan, at large, stayed the same.

But the circumstances forced me to reconsider certain details. My weakness meant that even traveling, as I am right now, is dangerous.

While I was advancing towards a certain unnamed and ancient forest, which was said to be almost completely uninhabited, I was planning to stop in the first sufficiently remote area. Not the one where I could truly spread my shoulders in research, just the one where I could bunker down, and using Resonant Soul to recall the details, master the spells I cast from the grimoires.

Then I can travel to the first area I scouted as a potential spot to set up my research.

Only when I had actual flames dancing in my hands did I carefully transfer the burning nest to the larger structure I'd built - pencil-thin twigs arranged in a loose teepee, with finger-thick branches ready nearby. The flames climbed hungrily up through the kindling, and finally I could add the real fuel.

It had taken nearly twenty minutes from spark to sustainable fire, but at least I would be able to cook today.

In truth, I didn't need to cook meat. Eating it raw didn't make it any less or more pleasant. My inhuman body also couldn't freeze, at least not from simple winter temperature, if it could, I would've never survived my first winter in this world. 

My reasoning for creating a fire was simple: I liked it. It brought familiarity, and before I looked into the grimoires, creating fire was beyond me. I enjoyed being able to make it now. It also allowed me to dry my clothes from dew and moisture that inevitably covered them as I traveled. 

I moved at night, my night vision was superior to most animals, and I rested and trained during the day. It was easier that way, and mitigated the risk of encountering humans by accident as I traversed the unknown parts of this forest.

Even demons needed to sleep, though our sleep was closer to a shallow nap that could be disturbed by any out-of-place sound or change in mana.

My prey today was a big bird of some kind. I am unfamiliar with the name, but that species reminded me a bit of a pheasant. At least that's the closest I found in my memories. I managed to catch it with my claws, the beast emitted some mana, like every animal, which allowed me to track it and approach it quietly. It was much easier to traverse the forests after I observed those two human hunters at work. Copying even some small patterns of theirs, like the ways to walk and choose where to step, helped tremendously with keeping quiet, even if I was sure I only glimpsed small bits of their wisdom and skill.

I took the knife from my belt, the same knife they had gifted me for the help and for losing that sword, and started to butcher the meat.

I didn't truly know how to do the job well. I only attempted to carve my prey the first few times I had to hunt; afterwards, I realized that I was eating raw anyway, and just bit into the meat.

So, cutting out a few pieces of bloody meat, I simply impaled them on a knife and roasted them over the fire.

Eventually, I declared the meat to be cooked enough. Though it probably was still red deep inside, it wasn't worth the effort to cook more.

I clasped my hands together and, for a moment, tried, as best as I could, to tune out the world around me and focus on faith. I held no gratitude in my heart, no regret, and no wonder, but I had faith. This was the most my twisted being could offer.

"Lord God, Heavenly Father, bless us and these Your gifts, which we receive from Your bountiful goodness, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen."

I took the first bite.

The meat was bland and chewy, and had a gamey aftertaste. Not that it mattered to me. At least it felt like I was eating as a human being now.

Unfortunately, it's the only thing human about me.

As I started to carve out more meat, my mind wandered. 

The truth of the matter is that I was too optimistic. For the first fourteen years in this world, I was slowly degrading from a human into a beast. Because as time passed, I forgot more and more what it was like to be a human.

Nowadays, due to the constant use of my curse, I feel as if I were a human yesterday. As if my human life just recently ended. It helped me break out of that apathy and once again look at the world differently…

…my mistake was to think I was looking at the world as a human due to it. I am not. I am a young demon, so I do not know my body well. I do not know my instincts well. I thought that the instinctive, weak urge to kill people was the worst I would have to deal with. Then there was that old priest, and it should've been a warning. That my instincts flared much more before those whom I instinctively considered dangerous. But I decided to ignore it, hoping it was just an accident.

It was not. My control over my impulses may be decent when I was calm and collected and wasn't threatened, but take away that stability, and much like a human, I will fall back on instincts, rely on urges, and act before I can think.

I knew this. I could only fight - could only kill - the monsters and beasts due to those instincts. I survived for fourteen years due to them. I knew for years I didn't react or even think like a human being.

Yet my curse, the Resonant Soul, allowed me to recall my time interacting with people as a fellow human, and it confused me. While intellectually I knew those were the memories that were decade old, they felt as if I had experienced them just recently. So, subconsciously, I was overestimating my tolerance for human interaction, as deep down I built my expectations not on my experience in life as a demon, but on my experience as a human.

This made me consider another matter. For over a month now, I have been casting this curse on myself. A curse that I never truly tested on other sentient beings.

It was a realization I had just yesterday, actually, but what are the long-term side effects? Are there any, besides the ones I intended?

This isn't an easy thing to test, nor to make precautions for. I couldn't just stop, I needed this curse to function and not degrade mentally. I couldn't test its safety, because any subject will be exposed to the curse for less than I. And I couldn't make proper precautions, as backing up my own mind doesn't seem feasible, not with my current understanding of magic and a mind as a construct.

Out of the things I could do right now, there is one thing.

Writing a diary. Not to remember, my curse exists for this. Not to unload my emotions, I had few as it were. But simply to have examples of my own patterns of thinking written out one after another, examples I could compare, and see if I could spot any inconsistencies using simple logic. As long as my mind isn't degraded to the point I can't think logically, this may be useful.

Then again, the chances of my curse having any serious side effects are slim. However, remembering what sort of horrors untested medications and 'wonder materials' did back on Earth, it would be wiser to take this precaution, even as imperfect as they are.

But first, it's time to train a little.

Standing up, I carefully lifted the carcass of the animal, reinforced myself, and jumped onto the nearest tree. It's better to throw it away as far away as possible.

//The following are select diary entries\\

Today I advanced more. No complications. Training in the evening went normally. I am close to the area I believe is unpopulated. I also realized that I need to keep a diary. I work on spells that affect the mind and memory, with long-term consequences unknown; it's necessary to have a backup, no matter how imperfect.

Supply of ink and paper - limited. Only short entries until I get more.

…

I arrived today in the evening. Couldn't find a good place, temporarily living in the woods. Will dedicate two days to finding a better shelter. Fought three monsters, territorial, had to run from two. Confirms concern - I need to master human spells. My claws aren't enough.

…

Found a village in the valley. It wasn't on the map. Moved the camp further uphill. Don't want contact until I am ready. Still searching for a better shelter - hard to preserve books without proper storage. The days grow hotter.

***

Aschewind, fundamentally, wasn't a complex spell. Far simpler than my own curse - fewer transformations, more straightforward weave patterns, and only two templates. One template for responsible for keeping its structure before impacting the target, one for its effects after.

Functionally, it was a very basic spell, one I was familiar with from DnD: a caster fired a bolt of flame that, on contact, exploded into a cloud of fire roughly a meter in diameter. The supernatural aspect was how the flames lingered, refusing to dissipate for several seconds.

Easy enough to block, any competent mage or enchanted armor could deflect it. The grimoire even warned about this limitation. But that wasn't the point. Aschewind was designed for suppression fire, no pun intended, not penetration.

While the spell lingered, the target had to maintain defenses or waste mana dispelling the persistent flames. Obviously warriors in enchanted armor can just power through. Still, it was perfect for creating escape opportunities against other mages. Against monsters without magical protection, sustained bombardment would cook them alive.

That, and beasts feared fire instinctively.

The spell's classification as "anti-monster", at least according to the author of the grimoire, made it my logical first choice to master.

"...I see, so if I adjust the third weave like this..." I tweaked one of the weaves within the template. The flame bolt hovering before my palm shifted from orange to brilliant blue. "This represents the temperature increase, but the resonance with the secondary weave..."

I stopped mid-sentence.

The mana construct shuddered. Not the physical manifestation floating in front of me, but the spell's underlying structure - the delicate lattice of weaves that held the template together.

One instant to react.

I threw myself backward as my modified spell detonated.

Even so, the world became flame, heat, and searing agony. I crashed into the stream where I'd been practicing, the cold water hitting superheated skin with a hiss of steam. The smell hit me immediately - cooked pork. My own flesh.

Ignoring the pain, I stared at the lingering fireball of blue flame that burned where I'd been standing.

"The creator never increased the temperature because it demands more mana, which destabilizes the primary activation template through resonance with the third weave... no, wait. The third transformation in the second weave creates harmonic interference with..." I trailed off, frustration mounting.

A terrible realization crystallized.

Here I was, talking to myself. Speaking insights aloud in desperate hope that vocalization would aid memorization. Developing theories I couldn't record because I had no paper to spare. Ideas that would fade from memory unless I used my curse to relive them - but I'd forget why those specific memories mattered in the first place.

All because I lacked basic writing materials.

The anger came suddenly. Frustration boiled over into pure, undiluted rage.

The agony radiating from my burns didn't help. I stood naked in the stream, having shed my clothes for safety while practicing fire magic.

"This can't continue," I said, my voice emotionless despite the fury burning in my chest. "I can't study effectively like this. Too many insights lost. So many things I will never come back to."

I examined my hands. Bright red, not yet blistering, but already beginning to regenerate. My face and hair were healing too, the process drawing precious mana from my reserves.

The only reason I was training practically, in such a reckless manner, was because my study journal - the one containing my research notes - was nearly full. I couldn't waste space on unrelated observations. My diary had perhaps two pages remaining.

With a proper research journal dedicated to human magic, I could have tested modifications like this on paper before attempting them. Instead, I was forced to rely on recalled readings from the grimoire, limiting my practice time and preventing detailed cross-referencing with the grimoire, without burning mana on my curse.

The inefficiency was maddening. Eventually, I'd stopped consulting my memory for every detail and began relying on intuition instead of constantly checking the grimoire. The result: more injuries, more wasted mana, practice sessions limited to mere hours each day.

"I need to reach the village. Purchase paper and ink."

I didn't want contact with humans so soon after the Nebeldorf incident, but this was unsustainable.

Mulling over this necessity, I waded from the stream and waited for the sun to dry my skin.

Then I retrieved my worn, half-ruined clothing and dressed before heading to my makeshift camp.

The setup was minimal by design: several fallen logs arranged as seating, a crude shelter built from tree trunks and sealed with mud to keep out rain, and a stone-ringed fire pit. Nothing more.

I sat down, noting that the burns still throbbed. The regeneration process was ongoing, but slow. The pain was already mostly dulled, which was a small mercy.

Moving to the shelter, I retrieved the notebook designated as my diary and returned outside. I placed it on a tree stump, opened to a fresh page, and considered my words carefully.

Writing space was precious. Every word had to count.

I wrote a few lines, paused to think, then continued. The process repeated several times as I compressed my thoughts into the most efficient language possible.

When finished, I checked my hands again. Finally healed. A quick examination confirmed the rest of my body had regenerated as well.

Demonic regeneration was remarkable but costly. The process consumed significant mana and wasn't instantaneous - healing time correlated with the volume of missing biomass, not complexity. Burns like these required only thirty minutes. The stab wound from that Veykin bandit had taken was even quicker to heal, though I could force surface skin to knit almost instantly with concentrated effort. The only things that were costly to regenerate are missing chunks of flesh, which I unfortunately had experienced in my fights against some monsters.

I decided to check my reflection in the clear spring nearby, heading there first.

Looking into the water…

The regeneration was complete. No trace of the burns remained.

Returning to my camp, I sat in the clearing and focused my mind.

"Resonant Soul."

The curse wove itself in an instant, and I relived casting another spell from the grimoire - a combat spell I'd never bothered mastering previously.

The moment awareness returned, I used the fresh memory as a reference and spent several minutes weaving the spell into being.

A blue, translucent blade materialized above my hands. No handle, only a cutting edge that hummed with contained energy.

Before I could reconsider, fighting against every instinct, I willed the blade to swing.

Agony beyond description. Pain like electricity coursing through my skull. The sensation of my horns being dipped in acid.

Two horns fell to the ground with a dull 'thunk' and immediately began to shimmer and fade.

If I were human, I would be screaming, writhing on the ground, tears streaming down my face.

But for a demon, emoting was a separate matter from feelings and sensations. Only the rigid tension in my shoulders betrayed the absolute torment I was experiencing.

I clasped my hands together and spoke quietly:

"Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from your presence, and take not your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit."

Harming oneself was sinful. This body was given to me by God, and deliberately inflicting pain violated that gift. I had practical reasons - creating a disguise that might help me remain undetected - but the moral ambiguity offered no comfort.

So I prayed and asked for forgiveness. Not out of regret for doing this, but out of having to do this.

Standing up, I shook my head carefully. First, I needed to check if any stumps remained in the spring's reflection. I didn't want to touch that part of my forehead. Even the wind against the wounds was agony.

Next, I would spend the following week scouting the human village I'd spotted in the area. Nothing could be left to chance. I would observe, plan, identify risks, then execute a precise operation: get in, purchase supplies, get out.

No risks. No foolish optimism.

Only cold logic.

//The following are select diary entries.\\

…

Now that I have sufficient paper and ink to work with, I believe I can start elaborating further on my experiences. So I will start with today.

The village visit went fine.

I scouted the village for an entire week beforehand, from a distance. Couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary, and my observations proved true.

As I thought, it was a standard farming settlement, perhaps forty souls.

When I went in, I managed to acquire ink and paper, but it ate up almost all of my remaining coin. The rest I spent on buying a wooden chest where I can keep my books away from moisture, a pair of pins, and some threads.

My biggest problem right now is clothing. I only have the set I wore on the day I was driven out of Nebeldorf. While demons don't sweat, it was still ruined over the last weeks on the run - tears from branches, stains from blood and dirt. I couldn't afford to buy clothes, so with the help of my curse, I decided to relive the memory of my childhood, when my grandmother taught me how to knit. I will try my luck at knitting myself replacement garments. Will dedicate two hours a day to it.

I've also been warned by the villagers about a monster on the mountain path. A singing one, apparently. No one knew where its lair was - a party of adventurers were even hired twenty years ago, but they couldn't find it. The creature attacks travelers but never descends to the village itself. I will look into it.

Otherwise, my priorities stay the same. I need to find a better shelter and continue to study. My research into the heart of monsters is suspended until I acquire better means to defend myself.

The purpose of this stop, in this no-man's area, is for me to master every spell I managed to acquire in Nebeldorf. My own curiosity allowed me this course of action because even if I didn't master any of the spells in those grimoires, I attempted to cast all of them at least once and read every grimoire thoroughly. That means I can relive reading those grimoires, and effectively, even if the physical books were left behind in my retreat like many other possessions, the knowledge is still mine to master.

First, I need to deal with the problems in the area before I can truly immerse myself in studies. At least now that I was aware of their problems.

Helping the villagers with the persistent monster is the right moral choice, so I will dedicate myself to it first. However, the monster that the village named Seelenklage usually attacks travelers on the mountain trail and does not descend to the village itself, so I am not in immediate rush.

I need to prepare and master at least one combat spell. I long since decided on which, and currently am working on it.

I can search for the monster's lair in the meantime. I was certain I could escape from it were I to stumble across it. According to the villagers, the monster's lair was thought to be somewhere in the caves of the mountain, and I have considerable practice in moving within obstructed terrain.

I am uncertain if this entry is what I wished to create, but I suppose I will acquire more practice in the following years.

…

Today, I am positive that I figured out the trick. Flooded pathways in the cave systems are likely where the monster is. One of the deeper tunnels leads to its lair - I checked every other accessible option over the past three days. I know that the adventurers the villagers hired twenty years ago attempted to track it in those caves before, but I suspect they couldn't pass through the flooded pathways. If the monster is a magically based organism, like me, it also doesn't need to breathe. Humans, however, do, and even if an underwater breathing spell exists, I doubt it's common knowledge.

In any case, I won't challenge the monster yet. It must be more powerful than most, judging by the number of travelers it has killed over the years, and even some creatures in the forest where I made my base are causing me trouble. Monster abilities can be very unpredictable, some shockingly dangerous. Like that strange hedgehog-like monster I met on the way here, that could somehow spin non-stop and generate explosive impacts to whatever it struck, while moving with blazing speed. If I had more options than my claws and my curse, that battle would've been winnable.

Speaking of which, I am close to mastering Aschewind. I am still confused by German names for places, people, and even spells in this world, but I won't rant about it again.

The grimoire also warned that it was dangerous to train Aschewind without a focus - that is, a mage staff, or a similar instrument. Apparently, the aggressive mana of the spell can burn your hand when you cast it, even if you are outside of its actual blast radius. It was actually a fairly fascinating interaction. The reason for the aggressively charged mana burning you was because, according to the spell structure, you needed to start shaping the mana into fire at a very early stage. Even I could tell how to remove the risk, but it would make casting the spell at least twice as slow, so for the sake of optimization, the creator decided to shorten its formula. In any case, I had no such difficulties. I imagine this is why demons don't usually use focuses - our mana channels are simply more robust.

I am ranting again. I will write that part into the research journal and expand on it properly.

I am quite mentally exhausted from traveling through the caves today. They are, however, very beautiful and surprisingly spacious by Earth standards. There were some clearly magically charged crystals I found deep within one of the corridors, which glowed with soft blue light in the darkness. I should procure a few. While I have night vision, I still can't see without any light source, and something that could produce illumination without wasting my concentration, mana, and wouldn't produce smoke is invaluable. In the caves, I had to ignite my own mana - I only knew how because it's technically an optional component of my curse.

…

I finally mastered Aschewind. I also encountered the monster today, as I scouted the cave.

It was powerful. A bit more powerful than me, magically. Looked like a strange, reptile-like creature, though I couldn't see much in the dark. It sang, and with its song, it applied some sort of curse.

The curse disrupted my mana reinforcement. It seemed to have disrupted mana in general. Dangerous ability, which made it harder to flee.

Still, the monster wasn't physically terribly fast or powerful, probably because its song disrupted its own mana too.

I managed to escape, but I have a few ideas on how I can win. I won't abandon hunting it, not now, when I'm sure where its lair is. I met it exiting one of the flooded tunnels.

Still, this will likely be the hardest battle in my life. I need to prepare and further hone my skills. This is a test of my power in part, but also my conviction.

My instincts are screaming at me to run away. Because magically it's stronger. I will fight through them, I have to learn how.

It may be my last entry, which is why I am leaving this diary behind in my camp. That, and I can't take the books to me through the flooded tunnel, not unless I wanted to ruin them all.

With that out of the way, this entry will be short. I have some preparations to do.

***

"Ha... ha... ha..." I drew air slowly into my lungs, utterly depleted.

I sat atop the gradually dissolving remains of the lizard-like monster.

My body was a catalog of wounds; claw marks, bite punctures, missing flesh. The entire cavern lay in ruins: scorch marks painted the walls, shattered stalactites littered the floor with piles of stone rubble.

It was remarkable that two middling creatures such as myself and this... Seelenklage... could cause such destruction.

I figured out its trick. It wasn't disrupting my mana… it was 'depressing it'. Making it lethargic, weak, and difficult to control. I have a theory that the effect was supposed to be applied to me, too. This was probably how that overgrown lizard devoured so many travelers. It left those whom it attacked unwilling to defend themselves.

It was also probably why it was so confused when I didn't yield and kept fighting. It helped me score some good hits.

Unfortunately for the monster, I am a demon. I lack a true human heart. Depression was as foreign to me as genuine sorrow.

Still…

I glanced around the area.

This was a vast chamber lined with mana-conductive crystal formations. The only access point required swimming through flooded passages for approximately five minutes, which made it effectively inaccessible to humans, but perfectly suited for mana-based entities like myself and the deceased monster.

I imagine a water-breathing spell, if it existed, was rare, which was probably why adventurers never managed to finish off this beast.

It's nice here. Warm, beautiful, this place had plenty of air and perfect privacy.

I think I will be taking this lair. But first, I will need to bury some of those piles of bones. I don't know the burial customs of this world, but I will give them a short prayer. No one deserves to die like this, with no one to even shed a tear for them. I will make the graves close to the road, easy to notice.

We live in an imperfect world, this is the best I can do.

Still, that aside...

"This feels great..." I admitted out loud.

Even a demon can feel triumph, as it turned out. The feeling of a truly monumental victory. Of surpassing your own fear and reaping the reward!

"...I have to buy a barrel in the village," I told myself, as I glanced around, thinking how to redecorate this place. It's better than the apartment in Munich I had to rent back when I was working there. The rent was to kill for. "It's airtight and will have me carry the books here."

I think I was feeling the closest thing to happiness a demon can. This was weird to think about.

The only regret I have is that I will need to leave this place occasionally to search for food.

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Author Notes: This is a bit of a transitional chapter, and a small timeskip. It mostly sets up the pace of how timeskips in general will go, so you aren't totally lost about where Albert is and what he will be doing. 

Took me a while to get this chapter out. The diary entries were a new one for me, but I needed them to write about things that I couldn't get into the scenes. Took me a few attempts to get them right. 

This story will get more dynamic in a few chapters, but first, I need to set some things up. Bear with me. Also, tell me what you think. I literally live off of inspiration, so please comment, talk, and have fun. Maybe leave a review if you feel generous.