Targeted

As previously mentioned, Fastherin Academy is a comprehensive military school. Beyond its refined arcane curriculum, it serves as the primary training center for new recruits. Most of the elites within the Farstriders—the most prominent ranger corps of the Quel'dorei—emerged from these very grounds.

The archery range is packed almost every day, yet there is one corner that few elves dare to approach. This, precisely, is the destination of Sarell's visit.

A leaf-green shirt and shorts perfectly accentuate the elf girl's graceful figure, while her over-the-knee boots and brown gloves are snug and exquisite. Wrapped in a standard-issue tight leather armor, her naturally slender frame appears even more upright and petite.

The academy does not restrict student attire, so few are willing to train in full gear. Although the students know it is inevitable, it remains a burden, and there is no evidence that it significantly accelerates learning progress; thus, few are willing to abandon their comfortable academy life ahead of schedule.

Looking at her outfit alone, there is an illusion that links her to Alleria, and even her features bear a striking resemblance, as if she stepped out of the same breathtaking painting. The biggest difference, however, is her fine, silver-white hair.

A gentle breeze brushes the hair from her forehead, yet it cannot obstruct her vision. Her sharp eyes remain fixed on the target in the distance. She draws her bow and releases the arrow.

The next moment, the bullseye a hundred paces away is pierced by the arrow, drawing a continuous ripple of gasps from those nearby.

Still not good enough. Vereesa frowns, looking at the arrow that landed an inch away from her intended mark, and lets out a soft sigh.

A miss is as good as a mile. After all, this is only a stationary target.

Clap! Clap!

Crisp applause rings out behind her, but Vereesa feels no excitement at the praise. The solitary sound feels somewhat jarring, causing her to pout in displeasure. However, the moment she turns around, that displeasure vanishes into thin air.

"Sister Sarell!" the elf girl chirps, a rare, genuine smile blooming on her face. Her childlike innocence reminds everyone present that she is still just a student—a dainty girl whose smile alone is enough to melt hearts.

"Truly impressive, Vereesa. It's only been a few months, and your basic archery has already reached the standard of a regular ranger. Alleria and Sylvanas would surely be proud." Even from a hundred paces away, Sarell had seen that arrow strike the bullseye the moment it happened.

Being praised by such a bona fide elite ranger is usually something to be proud of, but beyond her joy, Vereesa feels a sense of loss: "My sisters' archery is far beyond this level. If they heard you say that, they'd surely laugh at me the next time we meet."

Compared to Alleria and Sylvanas? Sarell's eyelids twitch violently. No wonder this girl is such an outcast at school. With two pillars of the family holding the roof so high, the pressure on the younger generation is immense.

"Ahem, actually, I came to see you today because I have something important to discuss." Feeling thoroughly discouraged, Sarell clears her throat and cuts straight to the point, then glances at the crowd nearby.

"My training for today is finished anyway. Come with me." Vereesa knows exactly what she is thinking; she immediately packs her gear and leads the way out of the range.

"Ahead lies Fastherin Academy, the jewel of Quel'Thalas, the garden that chases the sunlight, the hope of the Quel'dorei."

Walking through a golden forest, Lanlos's field of vision suddenly opens up. Before he can even adjust to the expansive view, the sight before him leaves him rooted to the spot.

A natural riverbed connecting to the Endless Sea separates Sunstrider Isle from an undeveloped auxiliary island. Over a dozen high-elven buildings float irregularly in the space between, connected by countless crisscrossing suspended corridors. These floating structures interweave and link together, constructing a breathtaking, fantastical scroll.

It is a castle in the air. Powered by several house-sized mana crystals on the top level, the dozen buildings drift silently in the sky. By comparison, the structures on the ground, though equally magnificent and glorious, clearly pale in comparison.

Occasionally, one can see students in colorful robes reading on observation balconies or groups laughing and playing on the corridors. More often, however, they remain dutifully inside the buildings, listening to the vivid lectures of their mentors.

"This is the core area of the academy, where tactics, knowledge, and arcane theory are taught," Alona says, giving Lanlos enough time to be stunned before officially beginning her introduction. "The ground level houses the dorms and practice fields, the lower floating levels are classrooms and laboratories, and the upper level is the library. As for the floating platform at the very top, that is where the mentors hold their meetings. You won't be going there; even I have only been up there once, on the day I was hired..."

Following Alona onto a suspended corridor, Lanlos glances down at the receding ground with lingering fear, feeling a strange chill run down his spine.

He dismisses it as the effect of the sea breeze.

The interior of every building is gilded and opulent, featuring colorful, transparent floor-to-ceiling windows, floating magical lamps, and golden candelabras lit even during the day. One must admit, the arrogance of the high elves is not without reason.

Their luxury and wealth have reached the point of waste.

This, it seems, also reflects their attitude toward magic—taking and squandering...

Perhaps because of this, after the Sunwell was destroyed, so many high elves who could not accept the reality became Wretched.

It truly is a case of "success due to, and failure due to."

Thinking of this, the shock in Lanlos's heart gradually subsides. In the future, all this current prosperity will fall under the iron hooves of the Scourge; it has no meaning...

Damn rich people...

"You're quite steady for a kid." Standing on the library's observation balcony, Lanlos takes in the entirety of Sunstrider Isle. Before he can continue to use the tragedies of the future to comfort his wounded soul, Alona's voice rings out from beside him.

"Is that so? Did you expect me to be making a scene?" Sighing helplessly, Lanlos takes the wine glass she offers but does not drink. Besides, is it appropriate for a mentor to be drinking at the academy?

"It's good. At least it makes our communication simpler." Smiling as she studies him, Alona's eyes reveal unconcealable satisfaction.

"And you won't treat me like a child anymore?" Stroking the rim of the glass, Lanlos asks half-jokingly. Having lived two lives, his total age might not match hers, but mentally, he is reluctant to show weakness.

Hearing this, Alona laughs even more heartily: "Haha, in fact, if you hadn't said that, I would have forgotten you were a child."

"..." Pouting, Lanlos shifts his gaze to the resplendent tower in the northeast and changes the subject. "What is that?"

The playfulness on her face fades, replaced by reverence and longing in Alona's eyes: "That is the Sun Tower, the mage tower of the academy's Dean."

"Dean?"

"Magister Solanar. She is not only a high-ranking member of the Silvermoon Council but also a Guardian of the Sunwell. She is a spellcaster of impeccable character." As she speaks the final sentence, a look of profound admiration appears on Alona's face.

"A mage tower? Private?" Lanlos's tone is full of obvious doubt. Even from a great distance, he can feel the thick mana within it, which rivals that of all of Fastherin.

"You've only just begun your studies, yet your nose is quite sharp." Alona looks at the little guy with newfound interest. "The Sun Tower is not just a mage tower."

"It is also a research center for the magisters. Because it can clearly observe and tap into the mana of the Sunwell, not just those on Sunstrider Isle, but every notable magister in Silvermoon City and even all of Quel'Thalas has conducted research and reported there. It houses a vast collection of literature and notes that even I find difficult to comprehend. If possible, once you have the ability to enter, you will surely benefit greatly."

"A lecture hall for the masses?"

"What?"

"Nothing..."

"Speak, does Sister have any instructions?" Vereesa sits directly on the windowsill with her composite bow, not caring at all about her "lady-like" image. Sarell looks at this girl who is so strict with herself—one might even say overly eager for success—wanting to laugh but unable to do so.

At her age, had I ever possessed such a clear goal? No, even if I were to start over, perhaps I would not choose her life; after all, being overshadowed by those two simultaneously would be nothing short of a nightmare. Yet this girl not only withstood the social pressure brought by her sisters' illustrious reputations but also managed to forge ahead, chasing after them amidst the doubt and comparisons.

If it were me, I might have given up long ago, faced with a distance that seemed to have no end.

"This time it isn't a lecture." Watching Vereesa, who was clearly suppressing her resentment, Sarell covered her mouth and chuckled. "This time, there is a legitimate mission."

A mission?

Vereesa's snow-white brows jumped with excitement, her previous grievances vanishing entirely, replaced by eyes sparkling with anticipation. "What mission?"

I knew it...

A flash of bitterness crossed her face as Sarell began to wonder if entrusting this mission to her was truly appropriate. However, that fellow had recognized her, and operating within Fastherin Academy presented many inconveniences, yet Alleria's concerns could not simply be ignored. Although it was a desperate measure, it was still better than letting that guy slip away right under her nose.

"A surveillance mission. There is no need to get too close to the target; after all, he is currently a teaching assistant at Fastherin Academy, so you will have plenty of legitimate opportunities to observe him."

"A teaching assistant?"

"Yes, a teaching assistant named Lanlos..."