"War... why are we fighting a war of attrition against the humans now?" On Hope Island, Aivisi stood silently on a high hillside not far from the harbor, watching everything that happened below.
She was tall and slender, with long hair falling loose all the way to her heels. As the wind swept through it, countless strands curved in beautiful arcs.
In the human world, Aivisi would certainly have been considered a beauty. Her delicate features were perfectly balanced, drawing the eye at first sight.
Among the Elves, however, her looks were merely above average.
Yet as Aivisi stood on the hillside, she seemed at one with nature.
She was an eleventh-level Druid, a silver star glittering in the sunlight.
"Why are we fighting a war of attrition against the humans now? At this rate, even if the humans shed twice or three times as much blood as we do, they can still bleed us dry. What outcome do the elders and the Royal Court actually want?" Aivisi looked deeply unhappy. She sighed softly, her gaze returning to the road below that led straight to the military base.
Wagons carrying the wounded passed along the road one after another. As her gaze fell on them, sorrow filled her eyes.
With her current Reconnaissance Spell, she could clearly sense who sat or lay inside those wagons.
They were all her people. Every one of them was wounded and needed help, needed healing.
Divine spells could relieve their suffering, but pain was still unavoidable. Besides, Elves were dying one after another. Though their losses were not yet particularly heavy, how many Elves were there to begin with?
Every death meant one fewer Elf, while the humans had more than enough people to sustain a war like this.
Should I... go down there?