"Can you see clearly?"
"Mm!"
At that distance, Annan could only make out a silhouette, but to an Elf Ranger, even the mud on the figure's trouser legs was clear.
"Is there a water source nearby?" Annan asked at once.
"Yes, but an Elf wouldn't let herself get that filthy..."
It wasn't that every Elf was a neat freak, but they did care about cleanliness.
Annan immediately grew wary. He made no sudden moves and simply watched the figure.
Vaughn walked among the quiet Garden Corridors, admiring paintings by artists of various races. He recognized a few of the names.
As he went deeper, the paintings reached the years after 3800 on the Elf Calendar, and there were far fewer human artists.
Back then, the Elves had stood above every other race. They also had more leisure to explore something as intangible as art.
He stopped at a painting from 5,400 years ago, the first human work of art: an uneven golden wheat field painted with pigment made from ground-up colored Ore. It looked unremarkable by today's standards, but it was humanity's first cry in the world of art.
Hmm... Human art didn't come easy. I'll blow up the section from ten thousand years ago instead.
As he thought this, a Dark Elf entered the edge of his vision.
Not every Dark Elf belonged to Dark Night. After watching her wander among the oil paintings, stopping now and then just as he did, Vaughn looked away.
But when a second Dark Elf appeared and hurried toward him, Vaughn realized something was wrong.
This isn't a coincidence... But how did they find me!?
Vaughn couldn't understand why the Elves had suddenly gotten clever... Or had something happened? He turned to flee, but stumbled as soon as he took a step.