The Magister's Deterrence

The Sun-Strider Hero's shipping route was not far from the mainland. Thanks to the clear, bright weather in the Eversong Woods, Lanlos could clearly see the land on the eastern horizon. Amidst the golden sunlight, the equally golden Quel'Thalas shimmered in harmony with the firmament—beautiful and noble.

Lanlos withdrew his gaze and sighed softly. "Tell me, why are you following me?"

Aside from the rhythmic drumming of the cargo ship colliding with the waves, there was no response. However, Lanlos's observational skills were far from ordinary; with his highly sensitive nerves and the strange perspective granted by the Sargerite, it was only a matter of time before he discovered someone stalking him in such a confined space.

"Sarell, right? Regardless, let's talk." Swirling the nearly non-alcoholic red fruit wine in his hand, Lanlos spoke without turning his head.

After a brief silence, a lithe figure appeared as if by magic from the shadows of the mast. "When did you discover me?"

Still not looking back, Lanlos stared absently at the foam swirling in his wine. "Actually, I was just saying that at random. I didn't expect you to have really followed me."

The words Sarell had prepared for an emergency died in her throat. A nameless fire surged within her, but considering the man's recent experiences, she silently held it back. "Don't misunderstand. I just happen to have business on Sunstrider Isle involving some personal privacy, which is why I disguised my itinerary."

In other words, it had nothing to do with him.

Lanlos turned to look at her quietly. The ranger kept her eyes lowered, staring at the floor. There was no panic on her face; it seemed she was merely repelled by the idea of eye contact with him, rather than feeling guilty.

The youth wondered what she was thinking, and in this situation, he actually held out his wine glass. "Would you like a drink?"

"..." Sarell did not reply. She glanced at him with slight surprise, then retreated a small step, despite the significant distance already between them. "No, thank you."

"Well, I forgot to thank you earlier. I've troubled you all the way to Sunsail Harbor. Much appreciated." Whether it was because he was thick-skinned or simply too dull, the youth did not realize that his actions had made the atmosphere rather strange.

An excruciatingly awkward conversation.

Without the tension of being exposed, Sarell only felt an inexplicable chill. In particular, the way this guy's gaze wandered over her without restraint made her want to plunge a dagger into his eye sockets.

"No, thank you." The same answer, given at a different time, carried a different meaning—at least in intensity. "Since there's nothing else, I'll be going. The wind on the deck is too strong."

Lanlos did not try to stop her. He simply cast his gaze toward the distance and muttered to himself, "That must be Silvermoon City."

Sarell, who had just turned away, paused. She clenched her fists tightly, suppressed her annoyance, and looked back. "Ah, yes, that's it."

Following their gaze to the horizon, a row of magnificent, golden-hued buildings shimmered in the golden sunlight. Even though they could only glimpse the tip of the iceberg, one could still feel the shock and luxury brought by that architectural complex. At the tops of the high towers, perfectly carved magic crystals hovered in mid-air, circling slowly and rhythmically, with dazzling rays of arcane light surging from them from time to time. Stunning and mysterious.

The scent of the Arcane permeated almost the entirety of Silvermoon City. Whether it was the unfathomable mage towers, the Elven royal court that could never have been built by human labor alone, or the complex runes on the golden walls, the entire city was shrouded in a glorious and noble atmosphere, echoing the Sunwell across the strait.

Yes, the Sunwell.

Feeling the increasingly majestic magical aura in the surroundings, Lanlos felt as if his heart had stopped. On that island, the heart of Quel'Danas, a pillar of light as glorious as the sun itself shot into the sky, piercing the clouds like a sword.

The Sunwell, the heart of High Elf society, the endless source of magical power, and an inexhaustible treasury of the Arcane. It created the glory of Quel'Thalas and the brilliant ideology and lifestyle of the High Elf people.

"What a beautiful city." Facing the pride of all the Quel'dorei, the annoyance and disgust in Sarell's heart quietly faded, and her eyes gradually grew distant.

"Indeed, it is truly beautiful." Though he said this, Lanlos was holding his breath, struggling to restrain the craving in his heart. Having spent countless years in the rifts of space, he had survived by relying on the residual Fel energy on the Keystone fragments, living in a hazy, muddled state until he reached the Shattered Abyss. And after he used that power to devour Vihana and Belash in succession, the process of turning soul and flesh into magical energy to consume had become an addiction he could not stop.

As he neared the Sunwell, his shock was matched by an increasingly uncontrollable urge to consume this magical energy. Especially after the Sargerite had nearly drained him dry, his body's self-defense instincts made him almost drool at the sight of such a pure source of energy.

Mana addiction was somewhat similar to the "sugar rush" of his past life—a massive intake of sugar causing a dopamine spike, forcing the brain to send out irresistible signals of pleasure. However, mana addiction was far more intense. Mana was the foundation of life in this plane; the fullness and growth of mana were accompanied by an instinctive sense of achievement and satisfaction. It felt like being a dozen years younger; both body and mind were refreshed. It wasn't just the brain—it was a fundamental, instinctive craving of the body, like breathing.

But everything had its limits. While a massive intake of sugar was pleasurable, it ultimately led to obesity and many complications. If he indulged his desires and consumed mana without restraint, he might explode and die at any moment. More importantly, this disregard for ethics and the impulse to take a bite whenever he saw mana was no different from a beast feeding.

"What, are you so ashamed by the magnificence of Silvermoon City that you've lost your tongue?" Lanlos's evasive expression seemed ridiculous to Sarell, and she felt a strange sense of satisfaction, as if she had finally vented her frustration.

"Perhaps." Having finally adapted to the impulses of his body and mind, Lanlos no longer had the heart to continue probing this "passing" ranger.

Yes, probing. Testing and exploring.

The result was obvious: 8 Charisma was truly too difficult to work with.

Even offering a glass of water could be misinterpreted, leading to disgust, then anger, and finally, a desire to see him suffer. They had traveled together for a while, and although they hadn't spoken much, it was still a connection—this was just too much!

However, Lanlos did not seem to notice that a man offering his own glass to a woman with whom he had a distant relationship was, in itself, a behavior prone to causing offense. Perhaps the Charisma stat evaluation was unexpectedly accurate? Although, having guessed this outcome, he hadn't actually taken a single sip himself.

Before the two, each lost in their own thoughts, could say more, a long ship whistle sounded. Lanlos turned his gaze forward.

Sunstrider Isle had arrived.

Following the directions, Lanlos successfully stepped onto the land of Sunstrider Isle. However, before he could carefully observe the surrounding environment, two guards flanked him, pinning him in the middle.

"Young man, this is not a place for sightseeing." The brief warning carried an unquestionable tone. It seemed Lanlos had no choice but to retreat to the cargo ship.

"Don't be nervous. I'm here for an interview." Glancing at his attribute panel, Lanlos sighed silently. Being a person was hard; being a person with no Charisma was even harder.

Interview? The two guards looked at each other, clearly baffled. However, soon after seeing Lanlos produce the invitation letter bearing the seal of Fastherin Academy, their hands, which had been gripping their hilts tightly, finally relaxed. "Apologies, sir."

"No, I understand." Aside from the Charisma issue, Lanlos had long learned about this land from books and Fergus. As the backyard of the Sunstrider Court, this was not a place one could just visit at will. "But could I trouble you to deliver a message for me? I'm not very familiar with this place."

"Of course." Feeling a bit guilty, the guards readily accepted Lanlos's request. Just as Lanlos breathed a sigh of relief, Sarell suddenly brushed past him, walking briskly toward the academy as if she were entering her own home.

Blinking, Lanlos stood stunned for a moment, then grabbed the two guards who hadn't walked far yet and asked, "Aren't you going to stop her?"

The two looked at each other, their faces showing expressions of "that's only natural." "Why stop her? Lady Sarell often comes to the island to impart experience to the apprentice rangers."

Sarell High Elf Strength 14, Agility 18, Intelligence 12, Constitution 12, Perception 14, Charisma 13

Screw that! No matter how familiar you are, you can't treat it like your own home! It's the King's private territory—don't you even do a visitor registration? I think you two are just blinded by beauty!

Lanlos waved his fists indignantly in his heart, while on his face, naturally, he wore a warm, gentle smile like a spring breeze brushing against a willow.

"I see. That sounds like a truly good person."

Sunstrider Isle is neither large nor small. Aside from the South Harbor, which is guarded by sentries and serves as the primary gateway to the island, a massive bridge spans the strait to the east, connecting it directly to Silvermoon City.

Consequently, the entire Sunstrider Isle suffers no shortage of daily necessities. Acquiring materials from elsewhere is merely an occasional exception, as nearly all the resources on the island are funneled into Fastherin Academy.

It is hardly surprising; for such a small place to function as an all-encompassing military academy, it would likely be impossible without the robust logistical support of Silvermoon City.

Just as Lanlos was chatting with the guards at the sentry post, an elven woman approached him: "Lanlos?"

Her tall frame was completely concealed by robes, and simple yet mysteriously patterned crimson inscriptions covered her entire form, exuding an intimidating sense of mystery and authority. There was not a single wrinkle on her hem or cuffs, her long golden hair was combed perfectly straight, and her appearance was so immaculate that one could find no fault. Her stern, serious face and the crisp, efficient way she moved made one instinctively set aside any levity and feel a sense of awe.

However, people of this sort are usually straightforward and clear about their likes and dislikes. What Lanlos feared most right now was encountering someone like this.

He was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself from clashing with her.

"And you are?"

"Alona. You may call me Mentor." The woman's sharp gaze swept over the youth from head to toe, and a faint smile actually appeared at the corners of her mouth—a bright, generous expression characteristic of a mature woman that caught him off guard.

Her smile made Lanlos breathe a slight sigh of relief, and his tone relaxed noticeably: "Uh, wasn't I supposed to come here as a teaching assistant?"

"Haha!" Hearing this, Alona couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Silly child, do you think you can teach and nurture others just by reading a few books? That's far too childish."

"..."

"But don't worry, kid. Since Fergus entrusted me with looking after you, I will certainly do so. Nominally, you are indeed my assistant, but you must remember clearly: I am your mentor first and foremost. Do not embarrass me!" Seeing that the other party's attitude was clearly not serious enough, Alona curled her lips in disapproval and slowly spread her right hand.

A hurricane suddenly surged around them, and the mana in the air roared as if it had gone mad. In an instant, a fireball the size of a washbasin appeared in the woman's hand.

A third-circle spell: Pyroblast. And it was an instant cast!

Lanlos's eyes widened instinctively. He seemed unable to feel the scorching heat rushing toward his face, only snapping back to reality when his eyes began to ache from extreme dryness. By then, the Pyroblast in Alona's hand had already vanished.

"Any objections?"

"No, no objections, Mentor Alona." Lanlos shrank his head back sheepishly and responded with a dry laugh. A Pyroblast cast with Presence of Mind—who wouldn't be intimidated by that?!

"Good, very obedient. Let's go. I will take you to familiarize yourself with the academy grounds first. Starting tomorrow, you will officially participate in my courses as an assistant." Nodding with satisfaction, Alona turned and walked toward the center of Sunstrider Isle, while Lanlos, thoroughly subdued by that instant-cast fireball, trotted along behind her.

Alona

High Elf

Health: 100%

Spirit: 91%

Mana: 76%

Strength 11, Agility 12, Intelligence 23, Constitution 11, Perception 16, Charisma 14

Recalling the instant-cast Pyroblast that had nearly made his mouth water, Lanlos added a prefix to these stats without a moment's hesitation.

Magister Alona.

"Magister," much like the title of "Archmage" in Dalaran, is a symbol of strength, representing the profound theoretical knowledge and combat prowess of a high-level spellcaster. The difference lies in the fact that the former is typically a title among elves, while the latter is the standard of assessment for the magical kingdom of Dalaran.

It is worth noting that in the circle of High Elf practitioners of Arcane magic, there is only one person who holds the title of Grand Magister. In the society of Quel'Thalas, this is an extremely lofty and noble title, with a status even higher than that of a Ranger General.

Returning to Alona, the prerequisite for instant-casting a spell is either an absolutely intimate understanding of that spell—as natural as a dragon breathing fire—or the use of metamagic techniques. By altering the structure of a spell through alternative means, one can simplify, strengthen, or achieve other effects. Instant casting is akin to converting addition into multiplication, or multiplication into squaring, ultimately bypassing calculation steps to reach the answer the moment the question is seen.

Of course, this also requires a transcendent understanding of magic and sufficient power.

After all, regardless of the method, instant-casting a spell inevitably requires a manifold increase in mana consumption. Therefore, instant casting is something only at least an intermediate spellcaster can achieve. Furthermore, Alona's mana regeneration rate was much faster than his, and combined with her extraordinary 23 points of Intelligence, it was highly likely she had already mastered seventh-circle high-level magic.

"What are you dawdling for?" Alona looked back at Lanlos, who had fallen far behind, a look of dissatisfaction on her face.

"My apologies." Snapping out of his thoughts, Lanlos immediately quickened his pace.