“If we keep locking horns like this, the war won’t stop unless one tide drowns the other,” Yoel murmured, voice low like wind through pines.

Eli shrugged, a lazy wave like a gull riding spray. “Uh, I won’t pry into your plans, smoke behind screens and all that. But one thing—you’ve gotta tell me. Where are the others from the Elf Race?”

“It feels wrong no matter how I spin it,” he said, brows knit like storm clouds. “Even if your Elf Race breeds slow as winter sap, after ten thousand years, you shouldn’t be down to this trickle.”

“Even the Demon King crisis, that scythe that cut most races, shouldn’t leave you this bare,” Eli’s gaze dimmed like a moon behind haze.

“Then… where did the others go?” His question fell like a pebble into dark water.

“…Human,” Yoel said, eyes hard as flint. “I admit your power, like iron under silk. But the less you know about this, the better.” Wariness coiled in his stare like a drawn bow.

Could he say he barely knew either? The thought flickered like a moth at a lamp.

Except for those deathless elders and the queen who truly holds the reins, no one could face Eli’s questions head‑on. That truth sat like frost on bark.

He did know a little more than most elves, a sliver of lantern light in a tunnel. After the Demon King war ended, the Elf Race’s upper council announced that over half their kin had caught an unknown plague, a shadow that would infect the rest if they stayed. The decree fell like cold rain.

So, on every moonless night, they were ferried out of the Elven City like shadows crossing a black river.

“This is wartime,” Yoel said, eyes cold as sleet. “What use are your drifting questions? Last time I sent you for clues, what did you bring back? Why’d you return so late?”

Eli shrugged again, a casual ripple on still water. “Nothing much. Fought some folks, cracked a few skulls. Relax, I cleaned it up like snow wiped from a blade.”

So this guy doesn’t know where they went either? The notion settled like dust in a shaft of light.

He’d thought maybe there was some hidden hold where the Elf Race’s strength was banked like coals. That hope now felt like smoke in wind.

If so, there was nothing left for him to tiptoe around. The decision hardened like ice.

Eli drifted to Yoel’s desk, steps unhurried as a garden stroll. He picked up a book, leafed it open like a whisper. “Back to it—your heart’s huge, man. You know this is your whole race thrown on the board. One wrong step and the cliff edge crumbles. How are you this calm?”

Yoel’s lip curled, a thorn showing. “How do you know I’m calm? Easy to talk big when your back isn’t to the fire.”

Eli smiled, a thin crescent like a cut moon. He didn’t answer that. “So, what’s your move?”

“Rather, what’s yours?” Yoel shot back, humor cold as iron.

Eli rolled a shoulder, a cat stretching. “If you’ll allow it, I want a quick trip back to the human empire. I’ll bring you an answer soon, like rain after thunder.”

“Oh? You won’t run?” Yoel snorted, a spark under wet wood.

“If I wanted to run, would I bother telling you?” Eli vanished with a soft whoosh, a candle snuffed, then reappeared the next breath. Hands in his pockets, head tilted, he looked down at Yoel like a hawk studying a field mouse.

“…” Yoel looked up at the human who stood a head taller, and saw a stranger behind familiar eyes. The old careless slouch was gone, shed like a snakeskin.

What remained was edge—sharp as a whet blade. With that cool gaze came a pale breath of killing intent, like frost creeping across glass.

Yoel stalled, throat working like a stuck gear. He swallowed, a dry click, and only after a long beat did breath come smooth. He nodded despite himself, small as a leaf nodding to wind. “Fine. Come back fast.”

Eli’s grin split like sunlight through cloud. He sheathed his presence, gentled it like a hand over water, and ruffled Yoel’s hair. “Good kid.”

“...Hah? You—”

“Hey, I’m pushing thirty,” Eli cut in, voice easy as warm tea. “You’re just past twenty. To me, you’re a kid.”

“I…” The word withered on Yoel’s tongue like a leaf in drought.

“I’ve got an agreement with the queen,” Eli said, hands clasped behind him, expression oddly faraway, like he watched rain beyond a lattice. “I’ll help the Elf Race ride out this storm.”

“The main reason now is to find you allies,” he went on, voice steady as drumbeats. “In the enemy ranks, I saw Seafolk and dwarves. Keep this up, and you lot only march toward defeat, like moths to a lantern.”

“Also, I want to know who I am. Why I’m here,” he said, words falling like stones in a well. “I won’t clear out your opponent’s minions. The young need whetstones. Since the queen chose you, I won’t pry. I’m not an elf.”

“And rein in that pride,” Eli added, glancing over like a knife’s flash. “Or the Elf Race will swallow a bitter loss sooner or later, like sand in a mouthful of rice.”

For a heartbeat, Yoel felt this wasn’t Eli at all. It was someone else wearing his skin, a voice washed in old sorrow, carrying an authority that brooked no tide.

“Report, we caught a spy,” a voice called from the doorway, crisp as a spear point. A figure knelt on one knee, posture still as a pine.

Yoel flicked him a glance. “It’s just a spy. Handle it as you see fit. Why come running here?”

“Uh… they’re human,” the elf said, hesitation puddling like rainwater. “We’re not comfortable acting directly…”

Eli’s brows drew together, a raven’s wing. “I’ll handle it. You go do your job.”

Yoel nodded once, a stone dropping. He said no more.

The messenger’s eyes snagged on Eli, a fish caught on a hook, but he swallowed his questions and led the way like a torch in a tunnel.

Yoel stood there a moment, stunned, like someone left in an empty hall after the music fades. In his hand lay the sealed scroll Eli had flicked to him in that blink, a gift left like a blade wrapped in cloth.

“I’m not a spy, really! I got lost, okay? Then people kept trying to hit me, so I… hit back,” a woman protested, voice bright as a brook. “How’s that my fault? I’m innocent!”

She had long hair the color of seawater, a blue ribbon of silk. She stood inside ring after ring of guards and showed not a flicker of fear, only a steady stream of pleas, like sparrows chattering.

The elves, wary of the strength that rippled off her like heat over sand, kept bows, spears, and staves aimed, all eyes tight as bowstrings.

Inside the cordon, one elf frowned, lines sharp as knife cuts. “Hey, didn’t we send it up? What’s the answer? Kill or capture?”

Another elf shook his head, a reed in wind. “Heard they said reinforcements…”

“…Huh?” The first blinked, lost as a duck in fog.

The woman watched their taut faces and sighed, a small cloud. Talking nonstop had left her parched like baked earth.

She smacked her lips. “Uh… any water or something? I’m kinda thirsty,” she asked, sheepish as a cat caught stealing fish.

The surrounding elves fell silent, ellipses hanging like icicles.

“Reinforcements are here,” a voice drifted in, cool as shade.

The elves parted like grass flattening for wind, opening a path.

Eli strolled in with hands laced behind his head, gait loose as a man crossing a courtyard at dusk. He felt it—within the layered ranks sat a pure energy body, clear as spring water. She wasn’t even at Sacred Rank, yet the power inside her was dense in a strange way, like syrup in a glass.

But to him, she was no real threat, a spark on wet stone.

So he walked slow, unhurried as falling snow, and came to a stop.

The girl saw him step out of the crowd, and blinked hard. “Eh??” Her surprise burst like a popped seed.

Eli narrowed his eyes. “Hm????” His doubt curled like smoke.

“Holy crap! Eli!” Her voice jumped like a fish.

“…Liqianyu?” His answer dropped soft, a pebble in a pond.

…

After who‑knows‑how much effort to bleed off the tension, Eli didn’t make a scene. He took Liqianyu and slipped out of the Elven City like shadows off a wall.

Eli frowned, a crease between clouds. “Uh. Girl, I remember you left with your brother. Why are you here now?”

Liqianyu shrugged, helpless as drifting foam. “Uh, thing is—he saw a pretty girl and we got separated.”

“…How old are you?” Eli asked, side‑eye sharp as a reed.

“What’s with that? Asking a lady’s age is super rude!” Liqianyu threw up her hands, a sparrow scolding a tiger.

Eli gave her a look full of disdain, a cold splash. “Tch. Please. A rough‑and‑tumble gal calling herself a lady. You’re over twenty and still manage to get ‘lost’ from your brother? That excuse is paper in rain.”

Liqianyu glared, eyes sparking like flint. “Oh? You picked up our Far East talk fast, you punk.”

Eli shrugged, casual as dust. “Mm‑hmm. Who knows—maybe in my last life I was from the Far East.”

“Tch. As if,” Liqianyu said, turning away like a cat flicking its tail, done with nonsense.

Truth was, she just didn’t want to go back to the Far East secret realm, a door rumored to be closing forever, like ice sealing a river. She refused to return to daily scoldings from her father, a drumbeat on her skull. She was grown, yet he gave her no face at all, a shadow over every meal. It was exhausting, and she hated it like grit between teeth.

Eli sighed, the sound thin as wind through reeds. “Hey. Where’s your brother? I’ll send you back.”

“Huh? Why? I finally got out,” she said, joy bright as sunlight through leaves.

Eli gave her a long side‑look, flat as still water.

She clapped a hand over her mouth. “I… didn’t say that…”

“Tsk. I don’t have time to babysit,” Eli said, eyes rolling like marbles. “I’ve got business. Go home and stop wandering around like a leaf in a gutter.”

“Wow. What business? I’m curious,” Liqianyu said, sparkling like a fox seeing a chicken coop. “Maybe I can help. Let’s go.” She tugged his sleeve, insistent as tide tugging shore.

Eli arched a brow, words loading like an arrow. He was about to speak.

Then he saw it—another hand slipped out of Liqianyu’s wide sleeve and clapped over his mouth, a playful ghost.

“Hey, quit yapping. Let’s go!” Liqianyu beamed, excitement bright as lantern light.

Right, that skill of hers… he’d almost forgotten, a coin under dust.

Eli’s interest pricked. He glanced at the extra hand covering his mouth, curiosity like a cat’s.

Forget it. With me watching, nothing big will break, he thought, calm as night water. And I can ask what happened in that missing stretch. The gap in my memory still sits like a blank page.

“Listen on the road,” Eli said, prying her hand off, gentle as peeling bark. “If you sneak off to pull anything, I’m tossing you back to your brother.”

“Yeah yeah, I got it,” Liqianyu said, impatience fluttering like a fan.

Eli sighed again, the sound thin as smoke. Looked like he’d picked up trouble for the road, a lively spark in dry straw.