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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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My mind raced, struggling to process her words.
A half-elf?
Even I, ignorant as I was about the intricacies of other races, knew what that meant.
But why was she asking me?
My confusion must have shown on my face because her brow furrowed slightly.
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Half-Elves.
The product of a union between an elf and a human. A life destined for hardship.
Elves, by nature, had few desires. A life lived in harmony with nature didn’t foster such cravings.
But occasionally, an elf would fall in love.
Even elves had a biological imperative, a need to procreate, to ensure the continuation of their species.
Most elves married within their own kind, but there were exceptions. Love didn’t always follow logic or social norms.
Sometimes, an elf would marry outside their race, forming a family, having children.
And those children were called half-elves.
Outsiders saw them as symbols of a beautiful, interracial love.
But half-elves were rarely welcomed, neither by elves nor humans.
Elves saw them as a betrayal of their heritage, a dilution of their bloodline, while other races, though perhaps less openly hostile, still harbored prejudice. The world was filled with those who feared and rejected anything different.
Even the kindest elf couldn’t entirely escape the inherent prejudice.
Half-elves were often called “unwanted children.”
And sometimes, half-elves resented their own pointed ears, a constant reminder of their mixed heritage, of their inability to fully belong. They clung to the hope that if they could just get rid of their elven ears, if they could just hide their natural affinity for nature, they could finally blend in with human society.
So they cut them off, filed them down, mutilated themselves to create the illusion of normalcy.
And many half-elves, their ears reshaped, lived among humans, their true heritage hidden.
Sylvia, remembering this, looked at the man before her.
His ears were rounded, human.
But, how had he seen them?
He hadn’t been looking at her. He’d been looking at the spirits floating beside her.
She’d noticed his gaze following the spirits’ movements, her own eyes widening in disbelief.
Humans, these days, neglected nature. They destroyed forests, mined the earth, dammed rivers, oblivious to the fact that everything they needed to survive came from the natural world.
They couldn’t possibly possess the affinity for nature required to see spirits.
And yet, he had seen them. Clearly.
A thought crossed her mind. Was this man, a human capable of seeing spirits, truly just a coincidence, a random encounter? Or was he a half-elf, hiding his true heritage?
Sylvia, known for her pragmatism, her sharp mind, considered the possibilities.
The latter was more likely.
So she asked, waiting for a moment when they were alone. Perhaps she could help him.
His answer made her ears burn.
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“…So you… you know I’m a half-elf?”
“Yes.”
“…?”
“Elves aren’t as prejudiced as you think. It won’t be easy, but… why don’t you come home?”
It took a while to clear up the misunderstanding.
I didn’t even know the creatures I’d seen were spirits, let alone why I could see them. I’d never seen an elf before.
She finally seemed to believe me after I told her about my family, about being the disowned second son of House Reinhardt.
Her expression softened, and she quickly bowed her head.
“I… I apologize! For the misunderstanding…”
“…It’s fine. Please, raise your head.”
“…”
She looked up, her usual stoicism firmly in place, but her ears were bright red. She hesitated, as if she wanted to say something.
“…Is there something you’d like to say?”
“Ah… no, I just… you’re more polite than I expected.”
“…?”
“You’re not how the rumors described you…”
“That’s enough. We’re here.”
I cut her off, anticipating her next words.
We’d reached her dormitory. I turned to leave. I heard her say something behind me, but I ignored it, hoping to never interact with her again.
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“Young Master, you’re back!”
“Yes.”
“Have you eaten?”
“No. Please prepare dinner.”
“Okay!”
I left Ella, her smile bright, and returned to my room. I needed to focus on my research, on creating a living being. I was stuck.
I couldn’t imbue the body with a soul. I could only control two souls simultaneously, and even when I tried to force them into the body, they wouldn’t integrate.
I’d tried changing the body’s gender, its size and weight. I’d even tried channeling mana directly into it, and replacing parts of it with my own flesh.
Nothing worked.
I decided to change my approach.
Instead of forcing a soul into the body, I’d create a vessel within the body to contain the soul, then control the soul within the vessel.
It was a much simpler method, but I encountered another obstacle. Where would I find such a vessel?
I only knew of one material capable of containing a soul.
Orichalcum, divine metal. A legendary ore, said to be able to contain anything.
A dwarven blacksmith had once told me,
“The ultimate goal of every blacksmith is to create a weapon or armor forged from orichalcum.”
Dwarves were masters of metallurgy, capable of transforming even the most mundane materials into works of art.
And even they considered orichalcum incredibly difficult to refine, let alone acquire.
Orichalcum would be the perfect vessel for a soul. But I had no way of obtaining it.
I needed a different approach,
And then, an idea struck me.
‘…Spirits…?’
Sylvia had called those floating creatures “spirits.”
Spirits were ethereal beings, possessing sentience and unique abilities.
And summoning spirits required a medium, a vessel to contain them until they were called forth.
Could I find a spirit medium, expel the spirit within, and then use it to contain a different soul?
Theoretically, it was possible. But how would I acquire such a medium?
‘…I have a way…’
I knew a spirit mage.
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The next morning,
I entered the classroom and saw the usual crowd surrounding Sylvia, her jade-green hair shimmering in the morning light.
She was the person with the most contact with spirits at the academy. I was trying to figure out how to approach her, when—
“…It’s been a while, Brother.”
“Indeed, Saintess.”
It was Hildegarde.
“I have something to discuss. Could we speak privately?”
“…Very well.”
I agreed, and we left the classroom.
“My apologies. This was the only quiet place I could find.”
“It’s fine.”
She led me to the academy infirmary.
I’d expected a more discreet location for a confidential conversation, but my concerns were unfounded.
“The professor in charge here is one of our followers, so there’s no risk of our conversation being overheard.”
“…I see.”
“Let’s get straight to the point, Brother.”
“Yes.”
“You know who attacked the church, don’t you?”
Her tone wasn’t a question, but a statement, her eyes conveying absolute certainty.
“Why do you think that?”
“The Pope told me. He said you and the leader of the attackers seemed to know each other.”
“…”
“Please, tell me.”
She bowed deeply, her voice filled with a desperate plea.
“I can’t let the deaths of my fellow believers be in vain… The Pope has given his permission to bring them to justice.”
“…”
“If you can’t tell me everything, even a small clue would be helpful. Please…!”
She remained bowed, her head almost touching the ground.
I’d planned on destroying the Lunar Church eventually. And the church’s support would be invaluable. The Saintess and the Pope were powerful allies, and countless followers would join our cause.
“…Very well, then—”
“Is this the infirmary?”
The door opened, and someone entered.
Sylvia Restonil, her jade-green hair shimmering in the light.
“…”
“…Huh?”
And she’d arrived at the worst possible moment, just as the Saintess was bowing before me.
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