To the North! (2)
Elves. The race we know as pointy-ears or derogatorily called knife-ears.
Sadly, the elves in Meteor Drift were pretty far off the mark from the norm.
For starters, elves are demons. Why demons? Because of humanity's idiotic thought process, that's the only answer. The moment they define elves as demons just because of pointy ears, that's when humans prove how fucking stupid they are.
And from that perspective, there were a ton of problems. For example, what if an elf gets ear surgery?
"You an elf?"
"Nah? Check out my ears."
"Hmm... round ones. You're good!"
That's everyday life. Dwarves are easy with their average height and beards, beastkin obvious with their furry ears, but if an elf really tries to hide, humans have no way to tell.
Defining elves solely by pointy ears was problematic from the jump. Unless they're crazy, no elf walks into human territory flaunting those ears.
"Hey, I'm an elf!" they advertise? We hand 'em a welcome drink laced with sleeping pills. Boom, elf slave acquired.
Even flaunting pointy ears openly is a problem.
"I am the Throne of Pride, Lucius Edelin! I've come to avenge my kin!"
Remember this clearly: really strong elves don't hide their ears. An elf with an average lifespan of 300 years who trains seriously can wipe the floor with most knights or mages.
In a world where that's possible, yeah, elves are kinda OP. Just basic ear surgery counts as an implant, so no one can argue otherwise.
Triple human lifespan, passive good looks, excellent mana talent, great at fighting? Total cheat race. Born holding an elf's teat, and my life—no, being an elf-born gets easier, right?
But even these elves had a fatal flaw.
"Woo-hoo! Your world tree's badass? Mind if we borrow it?"
"You crazy fuckers!"
Their spawn point was the world tree—a dizzying weakness. More precisely, without the world tree's help, they couldn't have kids easily. One of the few downsides for a long-lived race.
And as you can see, about a century ago, the Ilysia Empire straight-up NTR'd their world tree. Phrasing aside, they lost their ancestral tree to humans who said they'd "make good use of it." Tsk. Sounds off. Makes the Empire look like tree-hugger murderers.
So elves lost their world tree to vicious tree lovers. During the Demon-Holy War, they tried everything to get it back but failed. In the end, they changed classes.
"All we have left is guerrilla warfare!"
Leveraging their innate archery skills, they became steppe horse archers in the north. The worst kind—riding magical beast horses. Freed from the world tree's chains, elves turned into monsters.
Just look at Earth history: horse archers were brutal. East and West both know it—true world unity.
Same here. Elf horse archer units? All Aura High Experts? Arrows wrapped in aura flying from afar? Regular infantry had zero countermeasures.
Of course, we humans couldn't just sit there, so we deployed flying mages or all-knight cavalry. Tried our best to counter, but...
"Humans approaching! Fireball!"
"Knife-ear bastards!"
Elves were even more OP. A thousand horse archers, all Aura High Experts and Magic Experts? How the hell do you beat that?
All we could do was minimize damage. Even I, in a hero party, cursed when arrows rained from 1km away. Those things were walking human-killers.
And among those elves was the youngest. Born without the world tree's help, no less.
"All set?"
Lianna Edelin. Unambiguously 24, a full adult. By elf math, she's 8—whatever—but this is the Holy Empire, so human years count. Not that I'm saying this 'cause I wanna slap on a silver bracelet or anything.
How this precious gem ended up in the Holy Empire? Complicated story. Skip the boring details: she came for treatment.
To me, Lianna was light and salt. In the Execution Bureau where all the execs are beasts, she was the only normal human. Like a zookeeper. My one restraint.
Anyway, now it was just me and Lianna heading north. Goldie's vicious quest plus the elf tribe's guardian summons. Overlapping issues, so yeah, gotta go.
Is this right?
I'd street-recruited Lianna, but still—asking a 24-year-old to bring a guardian? If my future youngest daughter were in her shoes... Can't say for sure.
"Let's go."
"Bundle up more. One slip and you'll freeze solid."
True to her light-and-salt status, she meticulously packed everything—coat, rations, the works. More than I expected.
"? Oh... Didn't mention it."
Lianna looked apologetic, like it just hit her.
"We're staying at least a week. So lots of luggage. Souvenirs from the Empire, daily goods, and—"
She wouldn't stop talking. Makes sense—heading home after ages. But is it home? World tree's in the Ilysia imperial domain.
While I puzzled silently, she hauled out a bag stuffed beyond imagination.
"So I figured this much at least."
I blinked. Isn't this a spatial magic artifact?
"...With over ten thousand kin to bring stuff for, this is minimum. Honestly feels short."
My question answered. Yeah. Four digits of relatives? Kinda gets it, even if not fully.
Suddenly, I felt that elf sensitivity creeping in. Kid who's 8 by elf years, lived in the city, visiting home? Of course they'd worry.
Channeling honorary elf Daniel, I got it. Sending an 8-year-old with a street-caster as guardian? Criminal. Even if I passed the beast handler cert recently, not this kind of beast.
Doesn't that make me basically an elf? I get their culture, their mindset. Plus my past life's from the ADC nation—I shoot bows fine. Qualified enough.
With that resolve, I vowed to be an elf at heart for the next 7 days. Soul's elf, so half-elf? Not the usual meaning, but whatever—half-elf it is.
"Sylvia wanted to come too. Too bad."
Lianna sounded genuinely regretful. Me? Pure relief. North's demon turf. If something happened to Sylvia...
"Daniel! What the hell have you done?!"
Master's sincere human donut punch awaited. No choice this trip.
And hey.
Nothing'll happen anyway.
People don't lust after dragons, and elves see humans as semi-sentient. No way I'd get confessions from elves.
How do I know? Got rejected so many times by busty dark elf milfs I lost count. Those eyes—sky-high standards.
So I sweet-talked Sylvia it'd be fine.
"Step on it and you stamp a marriage cert here?"
...Never saw that marriage form. Whatever. Didn't see it.
"Ready to head out?"
Lianna stood, smiling, all prepped. Backpack as tall as her.
The moment she stepped forward.
Thud!
"...Ah."
Weight won; she toppled backward. Bag mouth flopped open, spilling crammed gifts everywhere.
"Could you... help?"
"...Yeah."
Now I got why they wanted a guardian. Can't just send her off alone.
◆ ◆ ◆
With honorary half-elf sensitivity, we set off for the joyless north. Normally a sea voyage, but...
"Just fly straight?"
Ignoring Holy Empire laws, we flew. Return the same way—no evidence, perfect crime. Border guards' headaches, though.
Leaving stress for some nameless guard, we flew to the still-freezing north. Wanted to flash my face at the elves and bail, but work meant chores.
Like.
"...What's that?"
"Rabbit ripping a bear? Bear chased rabbit, so caught both."
Surveying magical beast ecosystems.
"Ignorant human! This is Dreadmond's dungeon—."
"Oh? Lich? Perfect timing. Been ages since I made lich pals."
"Yeah. What name for this lich?"
"...?"
Catching wild liches in dungeons.
"Tsk. Terrain changed? Wasn't there a mountain there?"
"Last time fighting necro-lich, big blast."
"Ah."
Surveying sudden terrain shifts.
Four-day carriage trip cut to half-day via rare medieval fantasy flight magic. Teleport? Two hours flat.
Why mages get the teats. Low-mana world's brutal for mundanes.
Urgent stuff done, turned toward elf turf. Goldie's nasty quest wasn't a one-day deal—needed local elf help.
Historically not natives, but 100+ years? Close enough. Don't say that to knife-ears, though—hole in your forehead. Good folks don't try; turns you human real quick.
Haa.
Elf cooperation. Stress boiled just thinking. Humans are assholes here, elves knife-ears too. Arrogance passive—hair falls out every meeting.
"Deputy Chief. Descending soon. Elf territory ahead."
Lianna calmly lowered altitude, worries be damned. Home for her, warzone for me. Please, just one peaceful day!
Wish granted as flight magic ended; damp grass squished underfoot. Icy mud slurry.
Looking up: eye-clearing blue plains, conifers. Then aura-wrapped, fletchless arrow straight at my forehead. Fuck, what now?
Crack!
Holy power reflex-snagged it. But waiting? Barrage of aura arrows.
Worse: cotton-tipped non-lethals. Capture alive intent. True knife-ears forever.
Prepping holy spells to deflect the insane volley—
"You fucking crazy?!"
Lianna swore—rare. Followed by two-verse chant.
"I who wield the scales · All things from heaven to abyss!"
Magic kicked in; invisible force devoured flows. Distorted phase dropped every arrow. Birds plummeting—hundreds etched on retinas.
Impacts: muddy waves. Explosions boomed like artillery. Chills.
Fuck.
How much aura for that impact? Asked Lianna anxiously.
"Said two coming! No clue why they're shooting!"
Not our fuckup. Obvious culprit.
Knife-ears being knife-ears.
"You filthy human scum! Daring to come with Lianna! Sane?!"
Forgot that damned elf sensitivity. Fucking knife-ears.