56. The Elf Coughing Up Blood

Ah?

Aramil felt as though he had been struck by lightning, dozens upon dozens of questions flashing through his mind all at once.

"Wait, what road building?"

"Are people actually using zombies for that kind of work?"

"Wait, that is not the point!"

"More importantly, are you telling me that the necromancer who created these undead is on the same side as you commoners?"

"Is that necromancer in the town right now?"

Weren't human mages supposed to look down upon surface-dwelling commoners who couldn't use magic? Weren't they all supposed to live in floating cities up in the sky?

Aramil was utterly confused.

He felt that his mission had just become much more arduous:

His original plan was to directly blow up the floating city and wipe out all the human mages in one fell swoop!

If a significant number of the estimated thousand human mages had come down to the surface, hunting them down individually and killing them all would make things infinitely more troublesome!

The little girl cast a look at Aramil that clearly said she was staring at an idiot:

"Mister, as for which specific uncle or auntie mage created these few zombies, I honestly don't know."

"Our Rolling Stone Town has one intermediate magic school and one elementary magic school. Why don't you go ask at those two schools to find out who made them?"

"The mage uncle or auntie who created these zombies might even be teaching at the school right now."

Aaaah!

Aramil's pupils suddenly contracted, and he nearly vomited a mouthful of blood.

"Your inferior human race actually has things like schools?!"

"Wait, no, that's not the point either!"

"The more important question is, are you saying that the necromancer who creates undead actually teaches at a school?"

"Could it be that he intends to pass down necromancy—that filthy, blasphemous art of creating the undead?"

The little girl found it increasingly difficult to follow this outsider's train of thought, but upholding the civilized spirit she had learned at school, she still explained very patiently:

"Mister, your questions are so strange."

"This kind of common production-type magic definitely has to be taught."

"You must not have gone to school because you are getting older, mister, but that's quite all right. I won't discriminate against you."

"Even in the elementary magic school, students learn a few little tricks for repairing the undead."

"The teachers taught everyone that as long as you generate negative energy and inject it into the bodies of the undead, you can repair their injuries and allow them to work for much longer periods despite wear and tear. That way, even ordinary mage apprentices can help repair the undead..."

"Of course, learning magic is very hard, and I am still studying basic cultural classes right now. But I will definitely learn magic in the future and help the mage uncles and aunties repair the undead..."

Aaaaaaaaaah!

Aramil felt his brain was about to explode, the sheer volume of information driving him mad:

"So that's how it is?!"

"Those magic-wielding humans actually pulled off something like this!"

He immediately connected all the pieces of information, and combining them with what he already knew, deduced the truth on his own:

"A group of unhinged necromancers has emerged on the human floating cities. They have come to the surface, spreading the filthy and blasphemous art of necromancy everywhere, attempting to turn this human land into a kingdom of the dead!"

"It's a good thing I discovered this in time. Otherwise, if a kingdom of the dead run by creatures who don't respect life or hold any reverence were allowed to grow and flourish, the Elven race would be utterly disgraced in front of the other races..."

The little girl truly could not fathom what the mister in front of her was rambling on about.

She even began to harbor self-doubt:

Could it be that her cultural studies weren't up to par, that she wasn't speaking clearly enough, or that her explanations lacked clarity?

Otherwise, why was it that every time she finished explaining, the mister would come up with even larger, stranger delusions and misunderstandings?

Right at that moment, the little girl finally noticed that the ears of this strange uncle seemed exceedingly long.

They looked just like the elves mentioned by the teacher in class.

Could it be...

"Mister, your ears are so long!"

"No wonder you kept talking about humans and humans just now. Could it be, mister, that you're from the Western El..."

The little girl widened her eyes, her tone laced with undisguised astonishment.

As expected, has this female human cub discovered my noble and elegant elven identity?

True to her inferior human nature, she is rather slow-witted. Only now does she realize that I am a noble scion from the Western Elven Court...

The corners of Aramil's mouth curled up into a cold sneer as he waited for the little girl to blurt out the answer.

"Mister, you must be a human from the Elven Village in the West, right?"

"Mommy said that the humans living in the Elven Village are a bunch of weirdos who love to decorate their own ears into pointy elven ears. It looks so ugly."

"They go around chattering about humans this and humans that, acting as if they aren't even human themselves."

Wait, wait, wait, what kind of situation was this?

Where on earth was the Elven Village? Was that the name of some human settlement?

Which human village would dare use such a name? That was the utmost blasphemy against their elegant and noble elves!

Aramil had encountered far too many unacceptable things today.

"I'm sorry, mister. Even though you still seem to have a lot of questions, Mommy said not to talk to weirdos from the Elven Village because it lowers your IQ."

"I can't keep answering your strange questions."

"If you have any questions, mister, you should go ask someone else."

"Oh, right, the magic school I mentioned earlier is in this direction."

After kindly pointing out a direction, the little girl turned and left.

What on earth is going on here? Why do I feel like I've been making a fool of myself all day long...

Aramil was consumed with fury.

At that moment, the zombies engaged in road construction had already walked up to a spot right in front of Aramil.

Following its preset instructions, one of the orc zombies waved its hand, signaling this passerby to step aside.

"Hmph! A vile creation that blasphemes life, and you dare to provoke me?"

Aramil was boiling with rage. He had no intention of figuring out what the zombie meant, and half-clenched his fist toward the group of orc zombies.

Plop.

The next instant, a massive, glowing emerald-green sphere of acid plummeted from the sky, slamming straight into the group of orc zombies and right onto the half-finished road.

Sizzling, sizzling, sizzling.

In merely a fraction of a second, the zombies working on the road were melted away by the strong acid, leaving not even their bones behind, while the partially paved road emitted a harsh sizzling sound as the ground collapsed and dissolved.

"Ah!"

Nearby passersby witnessed the scene and scrambled away in panic.

"What's going on?"

"Is some mage destroying public infrastructure?"

"I know, I know. This mage was standing right in the middle of the road casting spells just now, blocking the way for several minutes. Extremely uncivilized behavior. And now he's actually pulling a stunt like this!"

"I saw it too. He chanted spells for ages, but nothing happened at all and he got laughed at by the onlookers. Who would have thought he'd fly into a rage and take it out on public property!"

"Must be a mental patient."

"Look, this guy has such long ears, could he be an elf? So elves are just a bunch of lunatics after all!"

"Quick, report this to the patrolling mages! There's an elven mage causing trouble on human land!"

"..."

Completely ignoring the jabbering noises of the onlookers, Aramil walked straight in the direction of the elementary magic school the little girl had pointed to earlier.

"According to that young female human, that group of unhinged necromancers is right here, passing down their filthy and evil necromancy..."

The Rolling Stone Town's elementary magic school was merely a humble stone building.

It had been built in the first year of the Empire, at the very beginning of the Arian Reforms.

Although it had undergone minor expansions and renovations over time, the overall structure remained quite modest, consisting of little more than a single large classroom.

Numerous winding paths passed by the surroundings of this small house.

During subsequent town planning, the builders of Rolling Stone Town chose to detour rather than demolish it, wishing to show respect for the small house that represented the initial dawn of magic and a brand-new era.

The classroom appeared completely empty inside, devoid of any students.

Today was a holiday, and there were no classes at the school.

Aramil peered inside through the window, gave a casual wave of his hand, and a book flew off a desk straight into his grasp.

The pedantic Sun Elf mage began flipping through the pages at high speed.

"There really is knowledge of evil necromancy here?"

"Humans are actually studying this kind of filth!"

Aramil grew furious, tossing the book aside. The textbook rapidly ignited in mid-air, reducing to ashes.

Aramil gazed at the crude stone schoolhouse, a murderous glint flashing in his eyes.

I'll deal with this place first, and then go up into the sky and slaughter every single human mage...

"Hello, esteemed elven mage. May I ask what you are doing?"

A youthful voice came from his side.

Aramil cast a side-long glance.

It was strikingly a group of four humans standing together.

An old man holding a wine bottle and wearing glasses, a human woman in her twenties, a teenage boy in his mid-teens, and an even younger little girl.

Teacher Joseph, Mage Siluka, Dragonblood Sorcerer Gret, and little Anna who had just started school.

The one who had just spoken was none other than Gret, who looked only a year or two older than he had a decade ago.