Elves and Half-Elves

Lance said nothing.

Morwenna's voice was soft, yet every word seemed to squeeze through clenched teeth, carrying a chill.

"You don't... have no stock left, do you?"

Lance swallowed, cold sweat instantly breaking out.

"Y-Yes... probably..."

His answer lacked conviction.

The smile on Morwenna's face did not change, but the hand on Lance's shoulder gradually tightened.

Lance felt as though his collarbone was about to shatter.

"A total of 900 units of Hemostatic Ointment."

"Do you have them?"

She put immense emphasis on those two words.

Lance could practically see the veins bulging on Aunt Morwenna's forehead, as well as the faint phantom of a vicious demon rising behind her.

Nine hundred units?!

Lance's vision went dark.

As long as he started now and worked without sleep like an emotionless machine until the joint sweep mission ended,

without resting,

this batch of goods... probably... maybe... could be ready in time?

"Yes! Yes, yes!"

Lance bobbed his head like a pestle, his voice so loud it cracked.

"Good."

Morwenna nodded in satisfaction. The force in her hand eased slightly, but her clenched fist still cracked loudly.

"Before noon every day, I'll have porters collect them from your residence. Understood?"

Fortunately, her contract with the guild stipulated delivery in batches. If they had demanded payment all at once, she would have to consider taking this brat apart and selling his parts to cover the penalty.

"Understood! Completely understood!"

Lance stood ramrod straight as he shouted his assurance.

"I'm going back to make them now! Right away!"

Before his words had even faded, he shot out the apothecary's door like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

He moved so fast that he even kicked up a tiny whirlwind at the entrance.

If he did not run, he truly feared this auntie would punch him to death against the counter.

Watching Lance flee in panic, Morwenna stood where she was and rolled her wrists, producing a series of sharp cracks.

"Brat runs pretty fast."

She snorted, then turned to Flora, who was cowering behind the counter with a terrified look on her face.

"Flora, stay away from that brat from now on."

Morwenna warned her earnestly.

"One look tells you he's a rotten scoundrel full of lies who specializes in tricking girls. Don't end up helping him count the money after he sells you off."

"

Flora hugged the unfinished chocolate ball in her arms and nodded like a chick pecking at grain.

She had not dared breathe while hiding in the corner just now. She had genuinely thought Aunt Morwenna would rip Lance's head off and use it as a ball the next second.

For Lance's safety, she had better obediently listen.

White River City, Violet Academy's central square.

Morning sunlight spilled across the pristine white marble ground, making the ivory tower seem sacred and solemn.

Around thirty young men and women in violet uniforms had already gathered in the center of the square.

They were the students selected to travel to Grayrock Town for off-campus practical training.

The leading instructor had just finished an impassioned pre-departure speech, and it was now their final free time before setting off.

For these fledglings, who had never truly witnessed bloodshed or killing, this practical training was more like an officially sanctioned outing.

Some clung to the parents who had come to see them off, saying reluctant farewells with reddened eyes.

Others gathered in small groups, chatting and laughing.

They excitedly bragged about how many useful things they had prepared for this adventure.

Yet in an inconspicuous corner of the square, the atmosphere stood in stark contrast to the surrounding cheerfulness.

"Waaah... my Cecilia..."

A tall female elf with dazzling platinum-blond hair clung to Cecilia without the slightest concern for her image, weeping pitifully.

"You have to come back safely this time! If even one hair is missing, Auntie won't want to live anymore!"

Like a clingy big cat, Hill frantically rubbed her cheek against Cecilia's fair, soft face, as though she wanted to hang her entire body from her niece.

Cecilia was nearly unable to breathe from the squeeze, but she did not push her aunt away. Instead, she gently patted Hill's back with both hands as though soothing a child.

"All right, all right, Auntie. It's only practical training for a while."

The girl's voice was soft and helpless. Clearly, she had long grown accustomed to such scenes.

Professor Gideon, standing nearby, felt his eyelids twitch. Unable to bear it any longer, he said, "Hill, that's enough."

"A fledgling must eventually learn to fly on her own. If you keep sheltering her like this, you'll only break her wings and hinder her growth."

At those words, Hill, who had been sobbing moments ago, suddenly turned her head.

Her tear-streaked face instantly filled with terrifying killing intent as she glared viciously at the old man beside her.

"It's all your fault, you damn old man."

Hill glared at Gideon fiercely, seemingly filled with endless resentment.

"If it weren't for you, you spiteful old fossil, egging this on, why would Cecilia leave me for that godforsaken place?"

"And you even dared reject my application to accompany the team as a safety officer! I think you're tired of living!"

Seeing the faint glow of magic flickering at her fingertips, Gideon immediately broke out in cold sweat.

Let her go?

If she really went along, then should Cecilia so much as scrape a bit of skin, Hill would probably flatten all of Grayrock Town with a backhand.

What practical training would there be then? They might as well rename it post-disaster reconstruction.

"Auntie, don't talk about Professor Gideon like that."

The girl gently tugged on Hill's sleeve, her face showing difficulty.

The moment her niece spoke, Hill's ferocious expression changed as if by magic, instantly returning to that gentle look of affection that reached her very bones.

"All right, all right, I'll listen to Cecilia."

She pressed her face against the girl's hair again and rubbed against it, looking utterly intoxicated.

"Our Cecilia is the most polite. She really is an angel."

Gideon watched the scene and shook his head helplessly.

He knew very well where Hill's nearly pathological indulgence came from.

She had poured all her longing for her deceased older sister into this child, doubled over.

Elves possessed long lives, and though half-elves lived longer than humans, to pure-blooded elves, their lives were still no more than the flick of a finger.

In Hill's long life, Cecilia could only accompany her for a brief stretch of the journey.

Precisely because Hill knew this bond was destined to be short-lived, she wanted to pour as much love as possible into their limited time together.

At that moment, the distant magic-powered transport vehicle rumbled to life, and the whistle for assembly sounded.

Cecilia could only reluctantly pull herself free from Hill's embrace and bow to the two of them.

"Auntie, Professor, I'm leaving."

After saying that, the girl straightened her slightly rumpled collar, then turned and jogged after the group.

As she watched that slender figure gradually disappear into the distance, Hill's smile instantly collapsed. Her brows knitted tightly together, and her face filled with worry.

Standing beside her, Gideon keenly noticed that his old colleague's mood was somewhat off.

This concern seemed to go beyond worries about Cecilia's safety.