A mage? A spell engineer!

Chapter 93 Recollections, Killing

Elves are immortal beings.

This was true in the mythological age, and in the heroic age, elves with lifespans of several hundred years were commonplace. But the fact is, the average lifespan of this race is slowly decreasing, and no one knows why. More fatally, the slow reproduction characteristic of long-lived species remains unchanged.

Just before the Age of Silence began, Sylvanas, the most powerful ancestor of the elves and a god, vanished.

The gods abandoned His beautiful and venerable people, and the elves, facing the well-armored and armed humans, were powerless to resist. Settlements across the continent were wiped out one by one. The dwarves, who were constantly accused by the elves of destroying the environment by mining and steelmaking, now stood firmly on the side of humanity.

From then on, the elven race on the continent lost their countries, cities, and settlements, becoming wandering souls adrift on the land.

The elves of the island kingdom, originally exiled criminals, were able to coexist harmoniously with the humans of Istani by helping the island kingdom break free from the rule of the old empire.

Deep within the Black Forest, a small remnant of the people lives. They have abandoned the civilization and technology accumulated by the elves and have practiced for generations according to the ancient covenant made with nature before Sylvanas, embracing nature itself with all their heart and soul, no longer serving any particular god.

But the settlement continued to decline. Even undisturbed, the inhabitants' lifespans shortened, the population dwindled, and the epic sung was about to end. The elders devised a plan: to create new life, modeled after Sylvanas's servants and messengers, to replace them in singing the stories of the dying race.

And the most important purpose is to guard the sacred tree that protects the forest of Dryaz, or more accurately, to suppress the ominous power beneath its roots.

The new life no longer needs to fight against humans and dwarves; it should have a long life and be able to become one with this forest.

Then let's use a part of the forest!

Using plants, they created life forms that existed between plants and animals. Modeled after the wood spirits of Sylvanas, they watered and nurtured special tree species. To give the plants agency and capacity, and using mana, the elves selected suitable fungi from the variants beneath the sacred trees and modified them to live in symbiosis with the trees.

One last piece of the puzzle is missing.

The elves discovered long ago that mana in nature creates ripples and sometimes echoes after being cast. Furthermore, mana can influence all living things. Based on this knowledge, they continuously experimented, amplifying and formalizing this phenomenon through spells, thus creating artificial spirits.

The spirit, combined with the body of plants and fungi, was kneaded together. The wood spirit's clumsy imitation was, however, the greatest work of the elves, born in a secluded little village.

Although they are still slow-witted children, they have the greatest difference from human tower spirits and artifact spirits—they are a race capable of reproducing on their own! Reproduction and immortality, the elves' obsession etched in blood and tears has been realized.

However, this ugly race was not perfect enough, and most of the elves in the settlement could not tolerate it. The elders wanted to improve it and give it a name after it had a more beautiful form.

The monsters couldn't understand any of this. They were just trying to imitate—imitating shapes, movements, and sounds—their enormous shells comical and clumsy.

Until one day, some individuals went missing. The elf never expected that it would wander to the edge of the forest and be exposed to human sight.

When it reappeared, it was followed by elite imperial soldiers who had driven it away and pursued it, as well as human spellcasters.

The monsters were unaware of the terrible disaster they had caused; they simply followed the elves' instructions to fight alongside the humans, were burned by the flames summoned by magic, and were destroyed along with the village.

The desperate and crazed elves once led humanity to the sacred tree, using its suppressed, filthy, and ominous power, but they still could not escape the fate of being completely wiped out.

However, deep in the soil and among the surrounding trees, some mycelium still remained, harboring the remaining essence. Year after year, through continuous gestation, new individuals were born, and their numbers multiplied, growing taller, uglier, and more foolish.

This race has lost its creators, its parents and teachers. No one teaches them or gives them names anymore. The nameless monsters wander aimlessly among the ruins and deep in the forest.

They don't need ears, but they still imitate elves, growing sharp growths on the sides of their heads. They don't understand the meaning, they just repeat the songs, screams, roars and cries that once echoed through the village.

The monster couldn't understand any of this.

They did not understand the increasingly serious changes in the forest, nor did they know why two similar groups of beings would kill each other.

The monster couldn't understand why parents would drive their child into the forest, why the child was crying, why he was missing an arm, or why he eventually stopped moving.

The monster couldn't understand why the disaster that destroyed the village would happen again, or why new humans would find this place.

The scorching rays pierced through them, burning, exploding, and crackling. The manna was boiling, impacting their essence, and the fragile mycelium was withering.

They're the enemy! I remember now, their creator gave the order: attack, attack!

The roars and anger, though imitating other life forms, spontaneously coalesce into various emotions and thoughts at this moment.

But they still couldn't understand why the enemy was so small yet they couldn't get close to them, and why their numbers were so few yet their attacks were so dense.

Some of the spirits dissipated, while others wandered again and attached themselves to the underground and surrounding mycelium.

Rorschach likely had the highest K/D ratio, as his beams were primarily aimed at the monster's head or body, making them highly efficient.

Cavendish's lightning spells, which he was skilled at, were generally ineffective against monsters, leaving him somewhat frustrated: "Is this the former elven settlement? Did they leave any written records or anything?"

"Where is the core of the village? Can the anomaly be resolved?" This was what Peterson was concerned about. He guessed that the failure of his natural senses and the continuous darkness were likely due to the strangeness of the village ruins.

Kober and Humboldt were most interested in this monster race. After seeing so many individuals, they immediately realized that these were not simply summoned creatures or spirits condensed by the forest itself, but a race capable of reproduction. So they imprisoned four individuals.

"We need to find a way to get it out," Old Man Kou said, scratching his head as he pondered.

"Look!" Ella's face turned pale; she had discovered something.

In the center of the village, there is a clean stone platform where a small body lies.

The mummified body of a boy, uncorrupted in winter. Fallen leaves covered him as if he were a blanket.

"The right arm is missing. It's not from an external injury; it must be a congenital deformity," Kober's clone determined, lifting the deceased's clothing.

The child's expression was calm, showing no sign of pain. Around him were round objects—completely dried and blackened fruits, and round stones. It was winter, and these were clearly inedible.

Perhaps the beings that placed these objects did not understand the meaning of doing so; they were simply imitating how elves cared for sick young creatures long ago.

Everyone watched, without saying a word.

Two more updates today, thank you for reading!

(End of this chapter)