Leo brushed his hands as though he were simply wiping away a bit of dust.
He turned around and looked at Elarielle—who stood frozen like an exquisite statue—and smiled.
"All right, the trouble has been taken care of. Now, can we continue discussing the matter of being my daughter's tutor, Lady Elarielle?"
Elarielle jolted back to awareness, her gaze toward Leo changing completely.
The crushing weight of millennia dissolved in an instant.
The sheer shock left her momentarily speechless. Instinctively, she nodded.
Leo was quite pleased with her reaction, and continued speaking.
"Oh, there's also this."
As if suddenly remembering something, he casually gestured toward the section of seabed now flooded with seawater.
From the depths, a speck of pure, condensed brilliance soared into his hand—a world crystal, faint yet carrying terrifyingly condensed energy.
It was what remained after the insectoid nest had been annihilated.
Tens of thousands of years of devouring and accumulation, compressed into the essence of life itself: a life core, containing unfathomable power and secrets.
"You've guarded this world for ten thousand years. You've worked hard. Consider this your payment."
"What—!?"
Leo tossed the life core casually to Elarielle, as though it were nothing more than a trinket.
"To guide my daughter properly in the future, I'll be relying on you, Lady Elarielle."
Elarielle caught the crystal, her hand trembling as she felt the tide of energy pulsing within.
The reward was far too heavy!
This was a new possibility, a key that could open the path to an even higher realm!
A treasure that could drive half-gods into madness, and he had handed it to her as if it were no more than loose change?
She stared at the man before her, her heart overwhelmed with disbelief.
"Who… who exactly are you, my lord?"
"Leo Grey. A father. Mayor of Dalton Town."
Leo's smile was calm, his voice plain.
Father. Dalton Town…
Elarielle murmured the words softly, her heart filling with indescribable curiosity and anticipation.
What kind of town could house such a being? And what kind of girl awaited her teaching?
"Well then, Lady Elarielle, shall we consider the matter of being my daughter's mentor decided?"
Elarielle took a deep breath, suppressing the storm in her chest.
I don't want this, but he's given me too much…
She performed the most ancient and noble ritual of the elves, one that represented eternal promise and profound respect.
"As you wish, Lord Leo. By the name of the Eternal Forest and the stars above, I swear: I shall impart all my knowledge and wisdom to her without reservation, until her wings are grown and she soars to her own sky."
"Thank you," Leo replied with a nod.
"Well then, let's go back. My daughter is probably waiting anxiously already."
As his words fell, their figures dissolved like water, vanishing without leaving the faintest ripple in space.
Dalton Town
In the mayor's residence—specifically in the kitchen and dining hall, which was always rich with the fragrance of herbs and food—Lilith sat at a rough wooden table.
She absentmindedly stirred her bowl of mushroom soup with a spoon, her thoughts far from the meal.
Her mind was wholly occupied by the mysterious tutor her father had promised to bring.
Stronger than the magus from the capital?
Really? That didn't sound believable.
It wasn't her fault she doubted it. For as long as she could remember, Leo had never had dealings with great figures.
Even her father himself was only of the level of a mid-tier mage.
How could he possibly find a tutor more powerful than even a high magus?
Wasn't this just an excuse, because he feared she might be bullied, and wanted to keep her in the small town?
She could understand his thoughts, yes.
But Fabian's stories of Crossbridge Academy—the towering spires, the endless libraries of magical knowledge, the brilliant peers and mentors—were like the songs of sirens, calling to her restless soul.
It was a yearning for strength, for beauty, for everything beyond the horizon. The instinctive longing of youth.
"Bang!"
A rough push of the door snapped Lilith back to the present.
The innkeeper, Hark, entered, rubbing his hands together, his face plastered with a sycophantic grin. He led in a man.
The newcomer wore a robe of expensive blue velvet, the cuffs and collar embroidered with silver runes. In his hand was a pearwood staff, its head capped with an enormous aquamarine crystal.
He lifted his chin slightly, his eyes sweeping across the humble dining hall as if inspecting a slum.
His face radiated open arrogance and impatience.
It was the magus from the capital—Fabian Weir.
"Miss Grey, look—Lord Fabian has come in person," Hark announced obsequiously, then wisely retreated, closing the door behind him.
Fabian's gaze raked over Lilith like he was appraising merchandise.
The rustic girl's face seemed as though touched by a goddess' own hand.
To encounter such a jewel in this remote countryside—surely heaven itself favored him!
A flash of greedy desire flared in Fabian's eyes, quickly hidden behind a veneer of gentle warmth.
He seated himself across from Lilith without waiting for invitation, leaning his staff against the table with a dull thud.
"Miss Lilith, I have given you more than enough time to consider."
His tone carried the superiority of a benefactor bestowing charity.
"An entry credential to Crossbridge Academy—why, even the noble heirs of the capital claw and scramble for such a treasure."
"Were it not that your talent struck me as truly extraordinary, and that I felt pity—unwilling to let a pearl sink into mud—I would never waste my precious time in such a… rustic place."
Lilith rose, attempting an awkward courtesy.
"My lord Fabian, I am deeply grateful for your favor. However, my father… he has already sought another tutor for me, and so…"
"Another tutor?"
Fabian's false smile vanished instantly, replaced by shadow.
"In this Dalton Town? Ha!"
He laughed outright, as though at some absurd joke.
"Miss Lilith, I understand your filial piety, but you must realize—the path of magic is a stairway toward truth. It cannot tolerate the least superstition or rustic delusion!"
Leaning slightly forward, his words pressed with the subtle force of mental magic.
"Your gift is like gold hidden in rock. Stay here, and it will be buried forever, until you become as dull and worthless as these rotting wooden chairs."
"What sort of tutor could your father possibly find? Some village witch doctor who can't even cast Cleanse Water properly? Or some stubborn recluse who's never even seen the capital?"
"They will only strangle your spirit and chain you in this mud forever."
Lilith paled, her fingers twisting nervously at the hem of her dress.
His words, though cruel, pierced her deepest fears.
In Dalton Town, aside from the basics her father taught and what she gleaned on her own, there was indeed no true magical inheritance to be found.
Seeing her falter, Fabian's eyes gleamed. He decided to play his trump card.
He sighed, shook his head in feigned regret, and rose, adjusting his robe.
"It seems I was mistaken. I thought I might guide a future great magus, but alas… never mind."
"If you insist on wallowing in this false security like a frog in a well, then I shall not waste another moment here."
He turned as if to leave.
"Such a pity… your talent will wither. In a few short years, it will extinguish like a candle never lit, lost forever in this barren land."
The words cut like an icy dagger, striking directly at Lilith's hidden dread.
She yearned for strength, yearned to become powerful!
She longed not to disappoint her father.
She dreamed of one day bringing him along to search for her missing mother.
Seeing the panic, reluctance, and conflict in her eyes, Fabian's lips curved into the smile of a schemer nearing success.
His secret art required that women with special soul constitutions willingly lower their guard to him.
Forced means worked poorly, or he would have already taken her without wasting breath in this poor place.
As for consulting her father, the mayor? Hah.
A country bumpkin. Compared to him, Leo wasn't fit even to polish his boots.