Sun-Strider Hero's route wasn't far from land. Thanks to the clear, bright weather over Eversong Woods, Lanlos could clearly see the land on the eastern horizon. Under the golden sunlight, Quel'Thalas shone just as golden against the sky—beautiful and noble...
Lanlos withdrew his gaze and sighed softly. "I say, why are you following me?"
Aside from the steady drumbeat of the cargo ship colliding with the waves, no one answered. But Lanlos had always been observant, and his keen senses, combined with Sargerite's strange perspective, meant that it was only a matter of time before he noticed someone sneaking close in such a confined space.
"Sarell, right? Anyway, come talk with me." Swirling the nearly nonalcoholic red fruit wine in his hand, Lanlos spoke without turning around.
After a brief silence, a lithe figure appeared in the shadow of the mast as if out of nowhere. "When did you notice me?"
Still not turning around, Lanlos gazed absently at the bubbles swirling in his fruit wine. "Actually, I just said that on a whim. I didn't expect you to really follow me."
Sarell had been ready with an excuse for any sudden developments, but before she could say it, his words had killed it in the cradle. For some reason, an inexplicable anger welled up inside her. But considering what he'd been through, she silently held it back. "Don't misunderstand. I just happen to have business on Sunstrider Isle. It's personal, so I disguised my itinerary."
In other words, it had nothing to do with him.
Lanlos turned around and quietly studied her. The Ranger kept her eyes lowered toward the floor, but showed no sign of panic. She seemed to simply dislike making eye contact with him, rather than feeling guilty.
The boy seemed to have some thoughts of his own. In this situation, he actually held out his glass of wine. "Want some?"
"..." Sarell didn't answer. She only glanced at him in mild surprise, then silently took a small step back, even though they were already far apart. "No, thank you."
"Oh, right. I forgot to thank you earlier. You helped me all the way to Sunsail Harbor. Sorry for the trouble, and thanks." Whether because he was thick-skinned or simply slow on the uptake, the boy didn't realize that his gesture had made the atmosphere rather strange.
The conversation was excruciatingly awkward.
Instead of feeling nervous about being found out, Sarell felt an inexplicable chill, especially as his gaze roamed over her without restraint. She wanted nothing more than to stab him in the eye.
"No, thank you." The same answer could mean different things at different times, or at least carry different degrees of emphasis. "Since there's nothing else, I'll be going. It's too windy on deck."
Lanlos didn't try to stop her. He simply turned his gaze toward the distance and murmured, "That should be Silvermoon City, right?"
Sarell had already turned around, but stopped. She clenched her fists, forced down her irritation, and looked back at him. "Yes, that's right."
Following their gazes to the horizon, they saw a row of magnificent golden buildings gleaming in the sunlight. Though they could glimpse only a small part of them, the splendor and grandeur of the city were still breathtaking. Atop the towers, perfectly uniform crystals of magic floated in the air, revolving slowly and rhythmically. Every so often, a dazzling glimmer of magic surged from within them. It was breathtaking—and mysterious.
Arcane energy permeated almost all of Silvermoon City. From the enigmatic mage towers, to the Elven Court, which could never have been built by mortal strength alone, to the intricate runes on the golden walls, the entire city was enveloped in an air of splendor and nobility. Across the strait, it stood in quiet splendor with the Sunwell.
Yes, the Sunwell.
As he felt the surrounding magic grow ever more powerful, Lanlos felt as if even his heart had stopped. At the heart of that island, Quel'Danas, a brilliant pillar of light, as dazzling as the sun itself, shot into the sky, piercing the clouds like a sword.
The Sunwell was the heart of High Elf society, an endless source of magical power, and an inexhaustible treasury of Arcane energy. It had given rise to Quel'Thalas's splendor, and to the High Elves' brilliant way of thinking and living.
"What a beautiful city." Faced with the pride of all Quel'dorei, the irritation and disgust in Sarell's heart quietly faded. Her eyes grew dreamy.
"It really is beautiful." That was what he said, but at that moment Lanlos was holding his breath, struggling to suppress his desire. Back then, after spending countless ages in the rift in time and space, he had relied on the Fel left in the Keystone fragments to stumble through the Shattered Abyss, half-conscious and dazed. Then, after using that power to devour Vihana and Belash one after another, he'd found the process of turning flesh and soul into magic and consuming it utterly irresistible.
The closer he got to the Sunwell, the more powerful the magic became. The more awestruck he felt, the more uncontrollable his urge to consume it all grew. Especially after Sargerite had nearly drained him dry, his body's instinct for self-preservation had nearly made him drool at the sight of such a pure source of energy.
Arcane addiction was a little like the rush from eating sugar that people talked about in his previous life: consume a large amount of sugar, trigger a surge of dopamine, and the brain couldn't help but send out signals of pleasure. But Arcane addiction was much more intense. Magic was the foundation of life on this plane, and feeling its presence and growth brought an instinctive sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. It was like suddenly feeling a decade younger, with body and mind refreshed. It wasn't just the brain—his body craved magic as instinctively as it craved breath.
But everything had its limits. Consuming lots of sugar felt good, but eventually led to obesity and many other complications. If he gave in to his desires and consumed magic without restraint, he might explode at any moment. More importantly, this disregard for ethics and morality—seeing magic and wanting to suck it down—was no different from the way livestock fed.
"What, did the grandeur of Silvermoon City leave you feeling inferior?" Lanlos's evasive expression looked comical to Sarell. She even felt a small, malicious satisfaction at having the upper hand.
"Maybe." Having finally gotten his physical and mental urges under control, Lanlos naturally lost interest in testing this Ranger who had supposedly come here by coincidence.
That was right: testing. Experimenting and investigating.
The result was obvious. A Charisma score of 8 really was too low.
Even offering someone a glass of water could be misunderstood and twisted, leading to disgust, then anger, and finally even delight at seeing him make a fool of himself. They'd traveled together all this way. Though they hadn't said much, it had still been a stroke of fate. This was just too much!
Still, Lanlos didn't seem to realize that offering his glass to a woman he barely knew was bound to provoke a negative reaction. Perhaps the assessment of his Charisma had been unexpectedly accurate? Though he'd anticipated this reaction, he hadn't taken a single sip.
Before the two, each lost in their own thoughts, could say more, a long ship's horn sounded. Lanlos turned his gaze ahead.
Sunstrider Isle. They'd arrived.
Following the directions, Lanlos successfully set foot on Sunstrider Isle. But before he could take a good look around, two guards flanked him, one on either side.
"Son, this isn't a place for sightseeing." Their brief warning carried an unmistakable firmness. Lanlos seemed to have no choice but to return to the cargo ship.
"Don't worry. I'm here for an interview." Lanlos glanced at his status panel and silently sighed. Being a person was hard. Being a person with no Charisma was even harder.
An interview? The two guards exchanged a look, both clearly confused. But when Lanlos showed them an invitation bearing the seal of Fastherin Academy, their hands finally relaxed on their sword hilts. "Sorry, sir."
"No, I understand." Aside from his Charisma, Lanlos already knew about this place from books and from Fergus. As the back garden of the Sunstrider Court, it wasn't somewhere anyone could visit on a whim. "But could I trouble you to pass along a message for me? I'm not familiar with the area."
"Of course." Feeling guilty, the guard readily accepted Lanlos's request. Just as Lanlos was breathing a sigh of relief, Sarell suddenly swept past him and strode toward the academy as if she were in her own home.
Lanlos blinked a few times, then stared after her for a moment before grabbing the two guards, who hadn't gone far. "Aren't you going to stop her?"
They looked at one another, their expressions suggesting the answer was obvious. "Why would we stop her? Lady Sarell often comes to the island to teach the trainee Rangers."
Sarell
High Elf
Strength 14, Agility 18, Intelligence 12, Constitution 12, Wisdom 14, Charisma 13
Bullshit. Even if she comes here all the time, she can't treat it like her own home, right? This is the king's private estate. Don't you even keep a visitor log? You two are just letting her get away with it because she's pretty!
Lanlos angrily shook his fist in his mind. On his face, of course, he wore a warm smile as gentle as a breeze through willow branches.
"Oh, I see. She really is a good person."
Sunstrider Isle wasn't especially large, but it wasn't small, either. The guarded southern harbor was the only way to enter or leave the island, while a bridge in the east crossed the strait and connected it to Silvermoon City.
As a result, Sunstrider Isle had no shortage of daily necessities. Materials were only occasionally purchased from elsewhere, when special circumstances arose. Nearly all of the island's resources were devoted to Fastherin Academy.
No wonder such a small place could become a comprehensive military academy. Without Silvermoon City's powerful logistical support, it probably wouldn't have been possible to build it on this scale.
While Lanlos was chatting with the guards at the checkpoint, an elven woman came up to him. "Lanlos?"
Her tall figure was completely concealed by her robe. Simple yet strangely ordered red runes covered it, radiating an air of mystery and authority that made people hesitate to approach. Not a single wrinkle marred her hem or sleeves. Her golden hair was brushed straight and immaculate, and her serious expression, along with her brisk, decisive movements, made people instinctively stop joking and show respect.
But people like her were always direct, with clear likes and dislikes. The last kind of person Lanlos wanted to meet was someone like that.
He was afraid he might lose his temper and pick a fight with her.
"And you are?"
"Alona. You can call me Instructor." The woman's sharp gaze swept over the boy from head to toe, and a faint smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. There was something refreshingly open and confident about the smile of a mature woman.
Her smile put Lanlos somewhat at ease, and his tone relaxed noticeably. "Uh, wasn't I here to be a teaching assistant?"
"Haha!" Hearing that, Alona couldn't help laughing. "Silly boy, you think you can teach and guide students just because you've read a few books? Isn't that a little too naïve?"
"..."
"But don't worry, kid. Since Fergus asked me to look after you, I'll see it through. Officially, you are my assistant, but remember this: I'm also your instructor. Don't you dare embarrass me!" Seeing that he clearly wasn't taking her seriously, Alona gave a dismissive curl of her lips and slowly opened her right hand.
A gale suddenly rose around them. The magic in the air roared as if gone mad, and almost instantly, a fireball the size of a washbasin appeared in the woman's hand.
A third-circle spell, Pyroblast—and it was cast instantly!
Lanlos's eyes widened despite himself. He seemed not to feel the wave of scorching heat rushing at him. He didn't come back to his senses until his eyes grew so dry that they started to hurt. By then, the Pyroblast in Alona's hand had already vanished.
"Any objections?"
"N-no, no objections, Instructor Alona." Lanlos sheepishly hunched his shoulders and gave a strained laugh. An instant-cast Pyroblast thanks to Presence of Mind? Who wouldn't be intimidated by that?!
"Good. You're a good boy. Come on, I'll show you around the academy first. Starting tomorrow, you'll officially take part in my classes as my assistant." She nodded in satisfaction and turned toward the center of Sunstrider Isle. Subdued by the Presence of Mind Pyroblast, Lanlos hurried after her.
Alona
High Elf
Life: 100%
Spirit: 91%
Mana: 76%
Strength 11, Agility 12, Intelligence 23, Constitution 11, Wisdom 16, Charisma 14
Remembering the Presence of Mind Pyroblast that had nearly made him drool, Lanlos added a prefix to her name without hesitation.
Magister Alona.
Magister had a meaning similar to Archmage in Dalaran: it was a mark of strength, signifying a high-level caster's extensive theoretical knowledge and combat power. The difference was that the former was usually a title used among the Elves, while the latter was a rank awarded by the magical kingdom of Dalaran.
It was worth mentioning that in the High Elf circles devoted to studying Arcane Magic, there was only one person known as the Grand Magister. In Quel'Thalas society, it was an exceedingly prestigious and honorable title, with a status even higher than that of Ranger General.
As for Alona, instant casting required either absolute familiarity with the spell, as natural as a dragon breathing fire, or the use of metamagic. By altering a spell's structure in an unconventional way, a caster could simplify it, strengthen it, or otherwise alter its effects. Instant casting was like changing addition into multiplication, then multiplication into squaring, skipping the calculations altogether and arriving at the answer as soon as you saw the problem.
Of course, that also required an extraordinary understanding of spells and sufficient strength.
After all, either method of instant casting required a drastically increased expenditure of magic. So instant casting was something only an intermediate caster could manage at the very least. Alona's mana also recovered much faster than his, and with her extraordinary Intelligence of 23, she had very likely mastered seventh-circle high-level magic.
"What are you dawdling for?" Alona glanced back at Lanlos, who had fallen far behind, her expression turning displeased.
"Sorry." Coming back to himself, Lanlos immediately quickened his pace.
Before you continue