54. The Land of Humans

"Do you need me to lend a hand?"

Watching Aramil Goldpetal push open the door and step out, another Sun Elf, who supported Aramil's views, asked.

"No need," Aramil replied, his tone as cold as ice. "They are merely a bunch of monkeys who only learned magic three hundred years ago. How many intermediate mages could they possibly have? I alone am enough."

"Then, once you're done, remember to be back before dinner. The Queen is hosting a banquet tonight," said the Sun Elf mage who had just backed him.

"Is all that really necessary?" Seymour yawned, watching Aramil storm out of the hall, leaving the heavy wooden doors to swing shut on their own with a creaking groan.

"What a pity, really. I went through all that trouble to teach humans magic, and now it's about to be ruined by this radical conservative."

A brief silence ensued.

Even among the Elven court mages present in the hall, a few felt that Aramil's plan was perhaps slightly too radical.

A few seconds later, an elven mage suddenly spoke:

"Is Aramil determined to slaughter every single magic-wielding human without leaving a single survivor? Isn't that a bit extreme?"

"Perhaps it's much like wiping out a large horde of goblins?" remarked the Sun Elf mage who had supported Aramil earlier. "I exterminated quite a few goblin settlements back in my day."

"That probably depends on the level of civilization those magic-using humans possess."

"I reckon they're probably about on par with goblins or kobolds..."

"True enough."

The elven court mages drifted casually from the topic, soon moving on to chat freely about all manner of things spanning the heavens and the earth.

They discussed weapons imported from the dwarf clans, differing versions of creation myths from the dawn of time, the rhythms of poetry and the aesthetic beauty of paintings, and legendary spells such as true incantations that surpassed the ninth circle and were considered the absolute pinnacle of magical art, alongside high elven magical rituals...

Passaging through an almost eternal expanse of time by discussing various forms of art to stave off the tedious hours—such was the daily routine of the elves.

To the elves, magic was merely the most peculiar category among the myriad arts of the mortal realm.

...

Aramil Goldpetal departed from the palace of the Elven Court.

In his mind, he rapidly reviewed his upcoming plan:

"Those human mages all dwell within sky-cities high above the heavens; that certainly makes things convenient for me..."

"Once I dispel the levitation magic keeping the sky-city aloft, the human mages will plummet to their deaths, or be crushed by the collapsing structures."

"Should any individual among them reach the intermediate rank and have memorized a flight spell, I will hunt them down individually. I must ensure the arcane arts are not passed down."

"..."

This seemed like a remarkably simple task.

Once dealt with, he would still be back in time for dinner to attend Her Majesty's banquet.

Aramil possessed absolute confidence in his strength as a nascent legend.

Although elven legendary mages excelled in powerful rituals known as [High Elven Magic], direct frontal combat was not his strongest suit.

However, dealing merely with a group of low- and intermediate-rank mages—what difficulty could that possibly pose?

Naturally, Aramil was severely underestimating the magical prowess of humanity—even before Elian had traveled through time and altered history.

In his view, a mere three hundred years was a fleeting span, less than half the lifespan of an ordinary elven commoner.

For humans to have a small handful of third- or fourth-circle intermediate mages would already be quite impressive.

As for high-level mages reaching the sixth circle, having one or two of them would be nothing short of a miracle; he would simply need to pay a little attention and wipe them out.

"Let me check roughly where the human-inhabited river valley is located on the map..."

"Oh, it's just such a tiny patch. Completely incomparable to the vast territories of the elven realm!"

Aramil scoffed with disdain.

"Teleport!"

With a flick of his wide sleeves, the elven legend vanished amidst a sudden flash of light.

Resplendent lights and shadows rushed past his periphery.

When those colorful streams of light finally solidified into a concrete image, Aramil Goldpetal found himself standing upon the soil of Eldorun.

He had arrived in a human town situated slightly to the south of the sky-city.

This was Boulder Town, the transportation hub connecting multiple towns and villages in southern Eldorun!

Horse-drawn carriages clattered across the road, pedestrians walked along the paths on either side, and the surroundings were filled with sturdy, neat stone houses.

Aramil lifted his chin slightly, catching sight of the sky-city floating leisurely far above in the high heavens.

Ever since Elian's reforms began, the sky-city of Eldorun had maintained a slow, continuous movement, traversing the entire breadth of the nation along a predetermined flight route to constantly patrol the human lands below.

"Is this humanity's sky-city? Looks utterly ordinary."

"It's just a slightly larger rock imbued with an enhanced version of the Levitation spell!"

Aramil sneered, completely ignoring the astonished gazes of the surrounding townspeople.

"Whoa, which mage is that? Never seen him before."

"Why isn't he following traffic rules, just standing right in the middle of the road? What if a carriage comes by?"

"Wait, this mage's ears are so long—just like the elves in the textbooks?"

"Elves? So this is what an elf looks like?"

"..."

The surrounding pedestrians murmured amongst themselves.

Aramil paid no heed whatsoever to the discussions of these commoners.

From his earlier assumptions, he knew that:

Humans dwelling on the surface were merely rabble devoid of magic; they were entirely unworthy of his attention!

"Very well, I simply need to bring that sky-city crashing down, correct?"

Aramil raised both hands, performing one complex gesture after another to channel a simple ritual spell.

This was equivalent to a super-enhanced version of "Dispel Magic." Its area of effect, range, and potency were massively amplified!

"Disperse!"

Two minutes later, as Aramil uttered the final syllable, an invisible shockwave surged toward the sky-city high above.

Then, Aramil folded his hands behind his back and waited for the sky-city to plummet from the heavens.

During those two minutes, numerous commoners, entirely unaware of what chant the mage was performing, had gathered around from all directions.

They watched with intense curiosity as the elven mage executed a series of complicated, frantic dance-like motions, muttering obscure and incomprehensible elven chants under his breath with a rather comical air.

"He really does look like an elf!"

"Have the elves come to human lands?"

"Teacher Joseph, where are you? Come quick! There's a live elf here!"

"Could he just be some bored fellow dressed up as an elf, putting on a show?"

"Right, right! I heard there's a place called Elf Village out west, and the people there love dressing up as elves!"

"Is this elf chanting some kind of magic? How come absolutely nothing is happening?"

"Maybe he's just practicing his moves without channeling any mana for a real spell?"

"Don't talk nonsense. It's probably just because his skills are lacking and his spell failed."

"..."

Listening to the chatter of the crowd around him, Aramil let out a scornful, contemptuous snort.

"A pack of utterly foolish human commoners. Lacking even the touch of magic, yet daring to judge me?"

"You will know true terror once you see the sky-city above fall, and every last one of those 'great mages' you hold in such high esteem perish at my hands!"

Aramil stood with his hands behind his back, waiting quietly for the sky-city to drop.

He waited thus for a full minute.

The sky-city remained suspended perfectly in the sky, drifting leisurely along its fixed trajectory high above without the slightest hint of a wobble.

"What is the meaning of this?"