The radiance of magic enveloped all of Quel'Thalas.
Evil, tusked invaders were kept outside by mighty magical power, unable to harm even a hair on the heads of the chosen people within.
The high elves, thoroughly pleased with themselves, lived carefree lives in this fertile land.
On a sunny, breezy afternoon, Herad fished on the beach west of Windrunner Village. He appeared composed, but his mind was in turmoil.
Seeing that he seemed distracted, the young high elf beside him quickly spoke up.
"Hey, big brother, stop daydreaming! That's obviously a big fish on the hook!"
"Oh, I'm fine! I was just thinking about something."
Coming back to his senses, Herad fumbled frantically with his rod before finally hauling in the big fish.
It was a grouper nearly forty centimeters long, with numerous black spots on its body.
"Wow, what a huge west coast grouper!"
Watching the young high elf cheer and bounce with excitement, Herad shook his head, speechless.
Just moments earlier, he had been an equally innocent, carefree boy.
Then, in the next instant, certain memories surfaced from the depths of his mind, wiping out his youthful innocence so completely that he was practically a different person.
When those memories lined up with reality, Herad was shaken to his core!
Quel'Thalas, high elves, Windrunner Village, and the youngest son of the Windrunner family before him all pointed to one cruel reality.
This was the Azeroth of his memories-Azeroth, where even demigods could fall!
On the surface, the high elves seemed quite safe.
They possessed the mighty Sunwell, which allowed them to maintain a magical defensive barrier over their kingdom year-round.
But the Sunwell, that inexhaustible source of magical energy, could be destroyed by traitors lurking among them.
In fact, even the magical defensive barrier itself had vulnerabilities.
The great Orc warlock Gul'dan had successfully destroyed the Rune Stones and led his forces on a rampage through the forest.
Arthas had gone even further, leading his Undead army to storm Silvermoon City, the pride of the high elves, before contaminating the Sunwell for good measure!
Neither catastrophe had happened yet, but Herad, who had awakened memories of another world, was already frantic.
With his scrawny arms and legs, either catastrophe could easily spell his death on the spot!
Still, seeing the elven boy admiring the west coast grouper eased Herad's anxiety considerably.
The elven boy, Lirath, had an impressive background and was someone of note in the game as well.
He was the Windrunner family's only male heir.
In Herad's newly awakened memories, Lirath had come of age just as the Orcs invaded, then met a miserable end.
The Lirath before him still had five years to go before his coming-of-age ceremony.
In other words, there were at least five years until the first catastrophe.
Herad decided to start training hard that very day, aiming to become an Archmage within five years and reach Legendary rank within twenty.
Only with sufficient power could he survive both catastrophes!
At present, Herad was merely a novice who had just become an Apprentice Mage.
But high elves had exceptional magical talent. As long as he was willing to train hard, achieving that goal should not be too difficult.
Now that he had awakened, he would naturally become the ultimate overachiever and strive relentlessly for greater power.
This was not a matter of whether he felt motivated.
He simply wanted to stay alive!
To avoid being hacked to death by an Orc's massive axe, he had to train hard every day and take his fate into his own hands!
With that thought, Herad shoved his fishing rod into Lirath's hands.
"Little brother, this enchanted fishing rod is yours. Work hard and become a master angler!"
"Huh? Big brother, aren't you going to fish anymore?"
"No more fishing. I'm a man destined to become an Archmage!"
Holding the magically enhanced fishing rod, Lirath stared blankly as Herad mounted a white hawkstrider and rode away without a care.
"A man destined for an Archmage? Does he mean he's going to marry one?"
After scratching his head, he sat down and went back to fishing.
Since Herad was giving up fishing, he decided to take his place in the Silvermoon City fishing competition and win a prize.
Looking back at Lirath fishing, Herad shook his head helplessly.
That laid-back attitude toward life was the norm throughout high elf society.
All high elves were like this. Trying to persuade them was pointless; they were hardly ever willing to train hard.
Otherwise, their race would have had demigods everywhere and more Legendary powerhouses than stray dogs!
Herad firmly believed that diligence could change the high elves' tragic fate.
The white hawkstrider ran past the edge of Windrunner Village, then took a familiar path through Silvermoon Forest toward the Moon Temple.
Silvermoon Forest was the eerie, terrifying Ghostlands from the game.
At this point in time, however, it was still a vibrant forest.
The high elf rangers had completely eliminated the dangerous beasts within it.
Wild animals such as lynxes and rabbits were the forest's dominant species.
Rabbits ate grass, lynxes ate rabbits, and high elves hunted lynxes, forming a stable, manageable ecological chain.
It had to be said that high elves were quite gifted when it came to managing forests!
The white hawkstrider, running on two legs, looked rather peculiar.
Yet it was an excellent swift mount, comparable in performance to a luxury car worth millions.
Even carrying a rider, it ran much faster than an ostrich on Earth!
The journey from Windrunner Village to the Moon Temple was over fifty kilometers.
Yet in less than half an hour, the Moon Temple's constantly rotating roof was already visible in the distance.
As he rounded a bend in the road, the Moon Temple came fully into view.
The Moon Temple was also a type of mage tower, primarily intended to train spellcasters.
The squat, round magical building featured the classic white walls and red roof tiles trimmed with gold. Magnificent and imposing, it perfectly suited high elven tastes.
Above the temple roof, several enormous spheres hovered at low altitude, tracing simulated celestial orbits.
Spending magical energy to keep objects floating was undoubtedly an extravagant practice!
But with the Sunwell as their vast source of power, the high elves did not care about expending a little extra magical energy.
Apart from the Night Elves' Well of Eternity, no energy source could compare with the Sunwell.
The magical energy stored within the Sunwell could even create a true deity!
The Moon Temple was a relay point for the Sunwell's magical energy.
Siphoning off a little was no trouble at all.
Feeling the dense magical energy in the area, Herad was momentarily overwhelmed with emotion.
Magical energy was this world's greatest wealth.
With their enormous source of magical energy, the high elves already stood near the top of the pyramid, second only to the Night Elves.
They had more magical energy than they knew what to do with. That was the high elves' strength!
Large numbers of mana wyrms gathered around the temple, resembling schools of fish in the sea.
Mana wyrms were beings of pure magical energy, shaped somewhat like large, translucent loaches with numerous feelers.
These mindless mana wyrms did not attack others unprovoked.
They merely drifted around the temple, absorbing the magical energy that was denser here than elsewhere.
Magical energy benefited every living creature.
But mana wyrms were undoubtedly the species that benefited most!
Still, they had no self-awareness and could serve only as moving scenery, with limited ornamental appeal.
The high elves, who possessed the Sunwell, did not mind these little creatures siphoning off magical energy either.
The arcane golem stationed at the Moon Temple's entrance periodically released magic at a special frequency to drive away mana wyrms that approached the doorway.
Upon seeing Herad approach, the arcane golem quickly moved closer to the side of the doorway, then turned sideways and gestured for him to enter, displaying considerable intelligence.
When it came to golem lore, the high elves were unquestionably the foremost experts in Azeroth.
The Moon Temple was quiet inside, and he encountered few living souls along the way.
Instructors and students alike had mostly gone out to enjoy themselves.
This hands-off approach to teaching and learning left the Moon Temple, a school of magic, entirely devoid of any sense of academic urgency.
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