Reincarnated As Aura

"Hey, Frieren?"

Frieren, who was reading one of Aura's grimoires as usual late at night, looked up in mild surprise. Aura, typically absorbed in her own magical research at the desk, rarely initiated conversation. It was unusual enough to momentarily break the silence that usually hung between them.

The relationship between the two was complex, to say the least.

Frieren remained ever cautious around Aura, a habit she had developed out of necessity. Trusting a demon, especially one as powerful and enigmatic as Aura, was out of the question.

Aura, for her part, seemed indifferent to Frieren's presence most of the time, and their interactions were limited to the bare essentials, with little room for unnecessary chatter.

"What is it?"

"What happened to your hand?"

The hand in question is likely Frieren's right arm.

The hand in question was Frieren's right arm, specifically her fingertips, which had taken on a metallic sheen, shimmering faintly with a golden hue. The subtle but undeniable stiffness in her movements was a testament to the lingering effects of a curse. Anyone with even a modest understanding of magic could see that something was amiss. For someone of Aura's caliber, who had transcended the boundaries of human knowledge, the magical nature of the affliction would be immediately apparent.

Frieren hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "It's nothing... just a lingering effect from something that happened a while back."

"Hmm..."

In response, Freiren gives a noncommittal answer, most likely to the effect of not giving Aura any knowledge that could be a risk.

Decades ago, Frieren's hand had been transformed into gold by the magic of a demon named Macht, one of the Seven Sages of Destruction and by far the most powerful among them. The spell, known as Diagoldze, was a fearsome curse that could turn anything into gold with a mere touch, regardless of its nature or composition. Curses, a type of strange magic used by some demons, were impossible for human mages to fully understand, as they altered the very essence of the target.

When Frieren fought Macht, she was forced to flee in the face of such an overwhelming and unreasonable curse. The entire subjugation party was annihilated, except for Frieren, who was skilled at concealing her mana. The memory of that event was enough to cast a shadow over her heart, knowing that even one of the Demon King's subordinates could wield such power. Frieren had no desire for Aura to learn about this vulnerability.

For decades, Frieren had devoted herself to studying curses, seeking to undo the damage that had been inflicted upon her. In all that time, she had avoided direct confrontation with demons, focusing solely on her research. The last real battle she had engaged in was with Aura, though it had been less of a battle and more of a surrender, with Aura yielding almost immediately.

Their meeting had been a twist of fate. Frieren, in a rare moment of nostalgia, had decided to revisit the place where she once trained with her master, hoping to find some solace in the memories. It was there, that she had encountered Aura. That their paths crossed at that particular time and place seemed nothing short of miraculous, though Frieren was not one to believe in miracles.

"Let me touch it for a moment."

Before Frieren could protest or even react, Aura reached out with a deliberate calmness and grasped her hand. There was an unexpected gentleness in the demon's touch, a subtlety that spoke of experience and restraint. It was as if Aura understood the weight of Frieren's hesitation and moved with a confidence that somehow bypassed her defenses. For reasons she couldn't quite explain, Frieren allowed it—perhaps out of a begrudging trust or simply because Aura had caught her off guard.

The next moment, everything changed. Without any incantation, gesture, or warning, Aura's mana flared to life. There was no build-up, no indication that anything was about to happen—it was as if the spell had been prepared long before this moment and was simply waiting to be unleashed. The air around them hummed with power, and Frieren felt a sudden, intense surge of mana course through her hand.

"――――!?"

Startled, Frieren's first instinct was to pull away. She yanked her hand back with such force that she almost lost her balance, and in the same fluid motion, she summoned a blast of magical force, The Height of Magic, designed to create a powerful shockwave. Aura was flung back by the sheer force of it, her slight frame slamming into the far wall with a dull thud. The room seemed to tremble for a moment, the echoes of Frieren's magic dissipating into the stillness that followed.

"Huh...?"

Her eyes were drawn to her right hand, which she had instinctively brought up to her face. The golden hue that had marred her flesh for decades was gone, replaced by the natural color and texture of her skin.

Frieren's gaze shifted to Aura, who was now slumped against the wall. A thin trickle of blood dripped from the corner of Aura's mouth, stark against her pale skin. The blood was likely a result of Frieren's hasty counterattack, which had either injured her internally or perhaps struck a vital point.

Despite the damage, Aura's expression remained eerily blank. There was no anger, no pain, no reaction at all—just the same calm, unreadable mask she always wore. Her eyes, still devoid of any light or emotion, locked onto Frieren's.

Aura stayed seated on the floor, her back pressed against the wall, showing no concern for her injuries. She seemed almost detached from the situation, as if what had just transpired was of little consequence to her. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft, almost matter-of-fact. 

"Six months. That's how long I've been researching."

"Six months...?"

"It's back to normal now," Aura continued, her tone devoid of any satisfaction or pride. "Was I being too nosy? If so, I apologize."

Frieren was left speechless by those words. Aura had been silently studying the curse that had afflicted her, dedicating six months to understanding and ultimately breaking it. And now, without any ceremony or expectation of gratitude, she had succeeded.

At the same time, Frieren realized that Aura had only spoken to her because she had something to report. That was all there was to it.

"I'm dirty now, so I'm going to take a bath." Aura said, her voice as flat and unfeeling as ever.

She dabbed at the blood on her lips with the back of her hand, wiping it away in one swift motion. Then, with a quiet grace, she rose to her feet. As she did, she muttered a quick incantation, and the wounds inflicted by Frieren's spell began to knit themselves back together. The blood stopped flowing, and her pale skin healed over, leaving no trace of injury.

Left alone in the dimly lit room, Frieren stood in silence, her thoughts swirling as she tried to process what had just transpired. The faint glow of a nearby candle flickered, casting soft shadows on the walls. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she flexed her fingers, feeling the familiar yet long-forgotten ease of movement. Her hand, once cursed and immobilized by an unbreakable golden sheen, was now fully restored to its original state.

What Aura had done was no small feat—it was a transgression against the very nature of demons. Demons, by their very essence, were creatures of pride and power, bound by an unwritten code of conduct that dictated their interactions with each other. They didn't help each other, and they certainly didn't undo the magic of their own kind. Even among demons, who lacked the deep bonds that humans or other races might share, there was an unspoken rule: they did not interfere with one another's curses.

In that sense, Aura, as a demon, was missing something—namely, the pride that demons were supposed to have.

(She's beyond the level of the Seven Sages of Destruction...)

At the same time, Frieren realized just how insignificant this curse had been to Aura. She had reduced it to a mere magical challenge in just six months. And she had done it half-heartedly, without any particular enthusiasm or will, and simply because it was the right thing to do.

"If she's back to demon territory... she'll become one of the Seven Sages of Destruction in no time..."

This realization was both deeply unsettling and terrifying. Frieren now understood that she held the power of life and death over a demon, who were extremely well-behaved and ultimately could be said to be good.