Frieren's Undead Warrior (Frieren x Male Reader)

Chapter 6

Y/n's POV

"We've been waiting for your return, Miss Frieren!" A small child with pale pink hair greeted the elf with a beaming smile, though visibly shivering in the cold. The child stood a little shorter than Frieren's shoulders.

"You're chief of the village now? You're a child," Frieren's tone conveyed surprise at the sight of a young leader. I mirrored her astonishment--seeing a child manage an entire village was unexpected.

"That's right! I come from a long line of chiefs! I'm the forty-ninth! Welcome to the village of the sword!" the child replied with evident pride, ushering us into the village. We followed her, taking in the sights of the buildings.

"We spotted a smashed-up house on our way in," Frieren noted.

"You must mean that old hunting cabin that got destroyed. The Lord of the Mountains is to blame," the child explained in a matter-of-fact manner.

"The who?" I interjected, intrigued by the mention of this mysterious figure.

"I don't remember there being a lord," the elf added, voicing my own thoughts.

"I can't believe I'm actually here," Stark gleefully exclaimed from behind us.

"You know of this place, Mister Stark?" Fern inquired curiously.

"This village protects the hero's sword," he replied.

The mention of the hero's sword evoked a distant recollection within me. I recalled a visit to this village several hundred years ago, when I was briefly associated with a traveling party of six. At the time, the village was not as expansive as it appeared now; it maintained a modest size and was in the process of constructing the wall that encircled the settlement. During the visit, the chief of the village showed us the sword. Each member of the party attempted to pull the sword from its stone, except for me, as I held little interest in the hero's tale.

"According to stories, the weapon was hidden in a sanctuary somewhere nearby, stuck inside a mighty stone. Throughout history, many heroes tried to pull the sword from its rocky sheath, but none were successful, until eighty years ago that is," Stark reflected. "How did the legend go again?"

"The hero that will drive off the great calamity that aims to destroy this world," the younger girl contributed, echoing the central theme of the legend.

"You're talking about Himmel, aren't you? He was able to take the sword?" Fern affirmed, addressing Stark.

"Exactly. The story's pretty famous. Are you positive you've never heard it before?" Stark asked Fern, curious about her familiarity with the tale.

"No, Master Heiter has never mentioned it," she replied, indicating her lack of knowledge of the subject. We then stopped at a specific building.

"Ah, here we are," the girl cheered as we entered in.

...

Frieren and I squatted by the crackling fire, drawing in its warmth. Behind us, Stark and Fern lounged in a long chair, while the girl sat opposite them.

"Finally..." Frieren sighed, her hands outstretched toward the flames.

"...Warmth," I added, completing her though.

The girl pouted. "I must admit. I'm thoroughly disappointed in you. You were supposed to return here over half a century had passed. I'm a mild-mannered person, but even I'm pissed off you're late! How did that sound?" she asked, her mood returning to a smile. "My grandmother said I should tell you that once you showed up,"

"I told her everything would be fine if I waited a little longer instead. The people here have protected the hero's sword for generations. They can easily defend themselves from danger," Frieren responded, her tone composed as she remained fixed by the fire.