The Strange Archmage

Harrot walked up to the Archmage under the curious gazes of the elves, and the Archmage reached out to lightly touch Harrot's forehead.

For some reason, Harrot suddenly felt nervous. What if the system was discovered? What if they found out he was a transmigrator...

Those chaotic thoughts were merely the anxiety born from the enormous gap in strength between him and the Archmage.

The Archmage did not leave him anxious for long. He withdrew his hand, stroked his grizzled beard, and said with great interest, "How fascinating. There's clearly no trace of elven blood, yet your soul strength is twice that of an ordinary person!"

"Hmm, this is a very rare case. It seems that, between the human and elf who gave birth to you, the human must have been incredibly powerful. The elf was probably from the younger generation. The human bloodline completely overwhelmed the elven one, which is why you inherited only human blood!"

"Elves are mainly strong in the soul. It isn't unusual for powerful humans to surpass them in other aspects!" The Archmage spoke at length, explaining to Harrot and the surrounding elves why Harrot did not resemble an elf at all.

Harrot remained expressionless. Say whatever you want. You're all wrong anyway. I won't admit it, but I won't deny it either. That way, I can enjoy the benefits without worrying about being blamed once I'm exposed.

The Archmage gave an affirmative answer regarding whether Harrot was of mixed elven blood, and the handsome elf became even friendlier toward him. Elves were a very united race.

However, Harrot did not know why, but he kept feeling that Archmage Iltiran was secretly watching him. The feeling sent chills down his spine. He would rather go drink with that foul-smelling beauty than remain here any longer.

Harrot greeted the handsome elf and left. As he was departing, the Archmage said meaningfully, "Just who are you?"

Harrot broke out in a cold sweat upon hearing that, though he was also confused. He could not understand what the Archmage meant.

"Did he discover that my soul is a fusion of two people's souls? Or did he mean something else?" Harrot turned back to look at the Archmage with a very unnatural expression.

The Archmage smiled faintly. "Don't worry, I mean no harm. I'm only curious. When you have time, you can come find me in the Elf Forest. We can discuss and exchange ideas."

Harrot nodded and said he definitely would someday, then hurriedly fled the place. Archmage Iltiran's strength was far beyond what human Legendary Experts could match. The power of magic was nowhere near something a so-called Heroic Bloodline could contend with.

Still, Harrot truly had not sensed any hostility from the Archmage, so he did not worry too much.

When Tiona saw that Harrot had not abandoned her to celebrate with the other elves, she was deeply moved and immediately hugged him.

Tiona's filthy golden hair, soaked through and dyed red with blood, was right in front of Harrot's nose. His stomach churned violently, and he wanted to vomit!

Harrot quickly pushed Tiona away. Elves' sense of smell was several times stronger than humans'. Could she not smell herself?

Tiona had also said that aside from slightly lower soul strength and more developed muscles, she was no different from a normal elf. Her sense of smell should have been about the same as an ordinary elf's, so how could she eat normally amid that stench?

Harrot tactfully asked her about it. Tiona brought a lock of hair to her nose and sniffed it, then said in confusion, "Doesn't it smell quite nice? It's even a little appetizing!"

Harrot: "..." He had heard that some orc tribes still liked to eat raw fur-covered prey and drink blood. Apparently, that was not a lie.

The banquet did not last long. Many people were wounded, and after fighting fiercely for so long, they were utterly exhausted. In the end, it concluded with Marquis Prague's declaration, "A great victory for the Pioneering Alliance!"

After much pleading, Harrot finally stopped Tiona from trying to spend the night in his tent. The elves had forbidden Tiona from returning to camp before she washed herself clean, so she wanted to stay in Harrot's tent.

How could Harrot possibly agree to that? If Tiona entered his tent smelling like that, he feared he would throw up everything he had eaten at the banquet.

Harrot forcibly dragged Tiona to a lake to bathe. Though Tiona was carefree by nature, she did not completely disregard her chastity. She planted her greatsword in the ground and warned Harrot not to peek.

Harrot had the desire but not the nerve. Cursing his bad luck, he slipped back to his tent and went to sleep. Closing his eyes, Harrot thought about what position Marcus would attain after the success of the campaign, and how much Marcus would reward him.

At the very least, that huge territory Marcus had mentioned before should not be a problem, right? The Eastern Lands were extremely vast. The territory ruled by the Thunder Tribe alone far exceeded the former Kingdom of Lucanir.

Marcus's contributions within the alliance were second only to Marquis Prague's, so he should receive a sizable fief! And as Marcus's foremost general, chief Knight, and absolute confidant, Harrot's treatment would surely be among the best.

Thinking of this, Harrot grew a little excited. He turned over and began imagining bringing Sihrulu and the others here, then living the extravagant life of a lord.

Once Hero's Water was prepared, he could also find a way to accompany The Bald Man to slay a dragon or something, accomplish a heroic feat, and become a newly risen Heroic Noble!

Harrot fell asleep with beautiful hopes for the future. He dreamed of today's battle, but in the dream, he took Tiona's place and bravely killed a Centaur Royal Guard alone.

As for Tiona, she leaned delicately against his chest and whispered tender words of love. Just as the two of them were about to enter the tent for some "two-person exercise," Archmage Iltiran smashed his tent with a meteor and flattened him into a meat patty.

"Whew! Whew! Whew! It was a dream! Damn it, couldn't that Archmage have shown up later? A perfectly good wet dream turned into a nightmare!"

Harrot knew a little about dreams. Dreams reflected the subconscious. It was perfectly normal for him to crave Tiona's body, which did not surprise him. What surprised him was that his subconscious was actually so afraid of Archmage Iltiran.

"Hmm, it seems I can't go to the Elf Forest in the future!" Harrot trusted his instincts. Since his subconscious considered the Archmage dangerous, he should not court death. It was only beginner magic anyway. So what if he did not learn it?

Marcus came to call Harrot to a meeting. The alliance had defeated the Thunder Tribe, and the next step was to conduct a large-scale purge of the Centaurs in this land, then relocate immigrants to build towns and villages.

However, the specific steps and measures had to be discussed carefully. The allied army also had many wounded and needed time to recover, but they could not wait too long, lest the Centaurs regain their strength or other large tribes occupy this land.

There were more than a hundred people in the meeting room, all nobles and their Knights. Harrot actually had a chair as well, though it was positioned behind and to the side of Marcus, leaving him with little say.

Even so, Harrot was immensely satisfied. Apart from Marquis Prague's two trusted aides, all the other Knights were standing!

The alliance's nobles could hardly wait to establish a new nation, and their plans were rather aggressive. In the end, they unanimously passed a decision.

Ten nobles who had suffered heavy losses would return to the kingdom to rest and recruit soldiers, while the remaining ten nobles would first sweep through the land and drive out the Centaurs.

Once those nobles had recruited new soldiers, they would directly bring the first batch of migrants to settle here. Then they would rotate, allowing the nobles who had not returned to the kingdom to go back and recuperate while bringing a second batch of people.

This would speed up the cleansing of the Thunder Tribe's territory, allow the wounded to recover and increase the number of soldiers, and also relocate people to begin building the nation.

There would be some hidden dangers after splitting their forces, but after the Thunder Tribe's defeat, there were no formidable enemies left. They could afford to take that risk.

The ten nobles returning included Marquis Prague. He had been severely injured in his battle with the Centaur Chieftain. Self-healing alone would make recovery difficult, so he had to seek treatment from the priests at the Sun Temple.

Although it had been two against one, Marquis Prague had wanted to end the battle quickly to crush the Centaur army's morale. At the same time, he feared the Centaur Chieftain would escape and return later.

Therefore, Marquis Prague chose the most reckless style of fighting, trading blows head-on. Grand Duke Lance had come to help, while Marquis Prague was the leader of the campaign, so he certainly could not let Grand Duke Lance bear the damage!

As a result, nearly all of the Centaur Chieftain's counterattacks landed on Marquis Prague. Without timely treatment, many hidden dangers would remain, and his strength might even suffer greatly, causing his rank to fall like that Centaur Commander's.

With the Thunder Tribe wiped out, the leaderless Centaurs were not much different from the monsters and magical beasts of the wilderness swamps. Organized armies or elite units would have no trouble clearing them out.