Chapter 4
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: High Elf
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A knock echoed through the silent house.
"Princess, it's time to head out for reconnaissance."
"Got it. I'll be right there."
She neatly tied back her sky-blue long hair, then familiarly checked her gear one more time. After adjusting the dagger at her waist, she opened the door and stepped outside.
Beyond the door stood massive ancient trees towering dozens of meters high. Atop their thick trunks were homes built from wood, crystals, and vines.
This was the elves' settlement, Silvarion.
The outermost sector, where the 1st Reconnaissance Team was stationed.
Looking down from her elevated home, she saw dozens of elves kneeling on one knee below, heads bowed in wait for her.
She leaped down, landing gracefully before them.
"I've told you many times... I don't need such excessive courtesy."
"But how could we..."
The reason they showed her such profound respect wasn't simply because she was the reconnaissance team's leader.
She was a High Elf.
To ordinary elves, High Elves were noble beings they hesitated even to meet eyes with. Most lived in Silvarion's deepest sector, the sacred space reserved for pureblood kin, making sightings rare.
Perhaps the very fact that a High Elf was assigned to a reconnaissance team was overwhelming for them.
She had come here of her own volition.
The reason? She felt stifled.
High Elves were required to spend half their lives in Silvarion.
It was mandatory.
Most never left, not even the innermost radius.
This was an ancient, rigidly upheld tradition—future rulers couldn't be allowed to depart, and with their scarce numbers, it protected them from external dangers.
Recent events had driven this tradition to extremes.
With a threatening force settling near Silvarion, the rule now extended to ordinary elves.
The forest was growing ever more insular.
But Celine found this shift suffocating.
She didn't want to spend half her life bound to one place. The mere thought choked her.
High Elves lived an average of 800 years, over 1,000 if long-lived.
Half of that was 400 to 500 years.
The idea of passing that time confined within the forest, within Silvarion's barriers, was horrifying. It already felt unbearable. She yearned to leave as soon as possible, to travel the world.
Above all, she was disappointed in Silvarion's response.
Sealing off the outside and hiding within due to an external threat.
It wasn't befitting the noble High Elves they prided themselves to be.
Yet even she couldn't defy the High Elf elders' decisions. Talented as she was among them, tradition was an unbreakable wall.
So she had chosen the 1st Reconnaissance Team.
The closest point to the forest's edge.
One step across the line, and a world utterly unlike this cloistered one unfolded. She couldn't actually go, but just imagining the possibility eased her breath.
"Shall we depart, then?"
"Yes, I'm ready."
Today was the day for a major routine patrol of Silvarion's outskirts.
Celine moved along the forest boundary with her 1st Reconnaissance Team.
The woods were serene. Sunlight filtering through lush leaves revealed only swaying shadows and beautiful flowers.
The external threat felt like a distant tale amid this tranquil beauty.
In truth, detected intrusions were rare—perhaps once every few years.
As the patrol neared its end, Celine suddenly sensed something off.
A mana flow riding the air. Intricately complex, yet somehow ominous and bizarre.
High Elves were inherently sensitive to mana, far more specialized than even the mana-affine elf race.
And Celine was exceptionally gifted among High Elves.
The other elves might not notice, but she couldn't miss it.
The problem: it emanated from beyond the boundary.
Close by, but outside was outside. A place she absolutely couldn't go.
She felt no surprise or fear.
Instead, her heart began to race.
"Lady Celine?"
The elf beside her called out, sensing something amiss as she halted and stared beyond the boundary.
But she didn't respond, stepping forward instead.
"N-No... You mustn't go there!"
"I need to check something."
It wasn't mere impulse.
A clear anomaly demanded investigation.
It wasn't far, and stepping out briefly wouldn't summon invisible monsters.
Even if they appeared, no issue—she was confident in crushing them with overwhelming force.
It might also plant courage in the elves who feared the outside.
Fortunately or not, no monsters lunged out as she'd imagined.
Leaving the elves gesturing anxiously from within the boundary, Celine headed toward the source of the strange mana.
It emanated thickly from beneath a massive tree.
She raised a fingertip, and the soil around the roots parted quietly like living flesh, splitting aside.
Revealed within: a jet-black stele.
At her will, the black stele floated lightly before her.
'An artifact...?'
[Enter your unique mana pattern.]
She immediately began analyzing the mana flow.
Elves, especially High Elves, could intuitively grasp an object's purpose through its mana structure. Even non-elves capable of magic could do it, but elves excelled.
Even legendary artifacts yielded clues by tracing their woven mana.
This stele was no different. Complexly intertwined, yet its function was discernible like others.
A normal person likely wouldn't have found it easily.
It bore perception-hindering magic.
'Hidden for some reason?'
Next...
'Unique pattern recognition?'
Celine's brow arched slightly.
The creator was no amateur.
Not a naturally formed artifact—evident from minimal tracing.
Precise, complex mana flows, intentionally refined for seamless connection. Impossible without hundreds of meticulous refinements.
Undoubtedly handmade.
The craftsmanship was so refined even she found it unfamiliar.
Her interest piqued.
Unique patterns weren't alien to her—elves used them too.
But primitive forms, like contracting weapons or summons, and not widespread.
This was far more advanced.
She drew closer. Then, blue text slowly emerged on one face.
[Anonymous (2) has entered the chat room.]
"...Anonymous, 2?"
Celine narrowed her eyes. The phrasing suggested it referred to her.
Second. Meaning a first existed.
The one who hid this stele?
Perhaps obvious.
From the mana flow, she discerned it allowed writing to share text.
'...Like exchanging letters.'
But the other's identity unknown.
'What's the goal?'
Doubts lingered, yet she channeled mana into her fingertip, slowly inscribing on the stele.
Upon completing and lifting her finger, new text appeared.
[Send?]
[Yes / No]
Celine moved to select 'Yes,' but a message appeared first.
What is this?
Her own message followed, creating an oddly fated alignment.
What is it?
Anonymous (1) had voiced the question first. Their identical words suggested her assumption was wrong—not the hider, same boat.
Same plight?
But the next message hardened her expression.
Who are you?
"Rude..."
Celine murmured unwittingly, then closed her mouth and shook her head.
She didn't know theirs, so they wouldn't know hers.
Why should I tell you?
What do you mean? Of course you should. I asked.
Did you hide this thing?
She knew one thing now, purpose unknown.
Anonymous (1) was extremely arrogant.
Celine's index finger hesitated.
Nearly sent harsh words.
But she withdrew it, exhaling softly.
'No need to stoop to their level.'
At that moment, she glanced toward the forest.
Far within the boundary, elves watched her anxiously, fidgeting amid the trees.
She'd momentarily forgotten she was outside.
The novel object's allure had drawn her focus, with an odd aura making her forget surroundings.
Not malevolent from the stele itself, though...
'Just my imagination.'
Celine returned inside the boundary first.
"What... is that?"
As she stepped back in, a relieved elf eyed the stele.
Celine considered explaining but shook her head briefly.
"...It's nothing."
"..."
They knew she'd unearthed it but said nothing.
She was a High Elf.
Not just status—they knew her overwhelming talent.
If she said so, it was so.
"About venturing outside..."
"Report it. No need to cover for me."
Finishing the routine patrol, Celine returned home.
She summoned the stele before her again.
Hey.
Ignoring me?
Hey.
Hey.
What. Broken or something?
"...Hah."
Anonymous (1) texted as if speaking aloud.
Impetuous, simplistic, somewhat childish tone.
That was Celine's impression. But something else caught her eye.
Now visible: overlooked before. Small inscription atop like an engraving.
[Participants: 3]
"...Three?"
Anonymous (3)?
...Or the true creator?
Celine pondered, moving her finger.
I didn't invite you.
What, you're still here.
Why no reply?
By the way, invite?
Was it an invite?
'Scatterbrained... and foolish.'
Normally, she'd end the conversation. Dealing with them felt foolish.
Celine tamped down her thoughts, swishing her finger again.
Text-only chat had merits—no need to mask expressions, just compose calmly.
There must be a reason it was hidden from others. I merely called it an invite. With another here besides us, perhaps we should say something.
Then, new text appeared.
Invite confirmed.
Just that one line.
But Celine realized instantly.
This was the stele's creator.
No 'Anonymous' prefix.
She asked immediately.
You say invite, so there must be a purpose. What is it?
No need to overthink. You couldn't understand right now anyway.
Celine's brow furrowed subtly.
Vague, overly declarative tone.
Didn't you make this wanting us to do something?
Do anything.
Her brow furrowed deeper.
Crafting such a complex, meticulously mana-infused artifact... for anything?
Absurd, considering artifacts' rarity.
The attitude was like...
'An observer.'
Celine hurriedly shook off the thought.
'Ridiculous. Linking to the Great Mother...'
The World Tree.
Too much of a leap.
...For now.