Ilminster crossed the boundless primeval forest, and suddenly, before him, the whole land suddenly rose again. The cliffs cut through the cover of the trees, and many huge mosses hung from the edges. There was no way out, but Il knew that he had crossed the border east of Cormier in the Human Realm, and looked straight to the southeast, where the trees were taller and thicker, and the rattan and moss coiled around the trunks looked older, and that it should be the right direction to Komando. The young man slung his saddlebag over his shoulders and shrugged it upward, he had left the lumberjack's axe far behind, and he was getting closer and closer to Comando.

He had been walking in the forest for some time. Looking at the difficult path under his feet, he began to feel a little grateful that the bandit gang had taken his mount with an arrow the day before. Even on Cormier's side, the trails above the mountains are extremely difficult to walk, and it is impossible to continue riding horses anyway. This difficult path seems to have deliberately undermined Mistra's guidance.

Besides, even if the topography is not taken into account, Il's has long run out of money to buy hay for the animals. He had to dismount early and cut through the bushes with his axe to make a path for the horses to cross. If so, he'd probably be exhausted to death. The animal must have been reluctant to be ridden into such a lush forest. At night, the horses would scream, and many unseen things would scream as if someone were going to kill them.

Il didn't want to be driven mad by the noise.

In fact, Il felt like he had gone crazy by now. He always had magic in his hand, a spell that could freeze the hares and elk that ran in front of him. So that he could get close to these innocent animals and use his knife to kill them as his own food. He was tired of the gore and the spells. What's even more terrifying is the constant rustling of the woods, and Il feels as if he is being watched by the "loneliness" thing, and often feels like he is lost.

Was he really the one and only one of Mistra's choices? Is he? Or is he just a disoriented arrow that shoots into the void? Although he can sometimes hit one or two targets, more often than not, he just keeps falling into one big mistake after another.

Well, it's no surprise that the Chosen One is a rather rare animal. Then, in this forest, there will naturally be rarer beasts, lurking in a corner, ready to swallow it as prey at any time.

Why couldn't Mistra cast a spell on him and fly straight to the streets of Elven City with a "whoosh"?

The woods suddenly came to an end, and the Moon Sea appeared in front of Il's left, and that was the territory of the Elven Kingdom. Il remembers a long time ago, when he was still in Hassanta. Once, he overheard a group of merchants talking about this elven kingdom in a casual conversation. He also glanced at the map on their desk, and a large river poured into the vast sea of fallen stars, forming the eastern border of the elven kingdom. The mountains behind him are the western boundary of Komando, as long as Il continues to walk and sees a large river, go to the right, and soon he will enter the elven kingdom. As for whether he can find the sacred elven city in the end, that's another matter.

Eir sighed, there was no light of torches ahead, and there was no sign of a city in the distance. He hadn't met a single elf since he left Asenrant, even if he had crossed the mountains and walked for so long.

Something quite simple, like falling under a tree, would kill Il, and no one would know about it except vultures and hungry wolves. If Mystra really thinks it's so important for him to go to Elven City, she should lead him more or less, right? He has traveled so hard and long distances, winter is coming! At that time, he was afraid that he had already fallen to the side of the road, his bones were broken, and there might be a lot of big fluffy spiders crawling on it!

Il sighed again and continued on his way. His feet were in a painful pain, and the blisters under the soles of his feet were also worn out, and the tender flesh was exposed, which hurt even more. He felt incomparably weak, incomparably weak. His boots are also miserable, and they have long been out of the shape of "boots". The legendary heroes are not like this, where the real heroes go, they just have to go non-stop, and they will be there. Isn't he, the chosen one of Mystra's gods, a hero?

Why can't all this be easier? Il couldn't help but sigh again. Endless trees surrounded him, and all he could hear in his ears was the sound of his own footsteps, footsteps, and footsteps. Mushrooms grow everywhere under the roots of the trees, like a low wall. Sunlight is getting rarer. The wild deer stood in front of him, watching him from afar, and his eyes were alert. The constant rustling in the shade of the trees seemed to tell him that a new game was about to take place, soon, soon......

Il crossed countless obstacles, countless bushes, countless mossy fields, and looked around carefully. In order to hide his tracks, not wanting his breath to be sniffed by any monster with a nose, Il cast a spell on himself to clean all the footsteps left behind him. There was no trace of where he had walked. Everything seems to be going well.

At night, when he felt tired, Il took the shape of a mist and hung by the high branches of the trunk.

Il knew that something must be following him, definitely.

It was alert and cunning, and Il couldn't see what it was like. At one point, he even hid himself and walked a long way back. But all he could see was the footprints of the stalker, which had disappeared before a stream. The prince of Asenrant knew only one thing, and the "thing" that followed him was supposed to be a human, or rather, that thing wore platform boots and had two legs.

Il shrugged his shoulders and continued his way towards the mysterious Tower of Singing. The elves do not allow any human to live to see their sacred city, but since the goddess's first mission is to guide him there, it is natural that she will have a reason. But if the elves insist on the laws of ancient times, it will be very bad.

Especially for Il, if his spell fails, it's even more bad. One evening, a blue light flashed through the mist, killing a large European bear beside him. Ilda wanted this magic to be used only for hunting, but not for people like him.

Now, only one thing is becoming clearer: even if the elves of Comantor City are friendly, they will not welcome a "human" who has a trespasser on him, not to mention that he has a magic scepter stolen from the elven tomb!

His striking impulsiveness on the night of the Herald's Horn must have been wrong. The prospector, ignorant of the height of the sky, recklessly used the magic of the scepter to bring death upon himself. And Il, that night, didn't have time to close his eyelids for a minute. At least four guys, with spells and daggers, each burrowed into his room. The last man came down from the eaves, sword in hand, and landed right in front of Il. Il was hiding outside the room, listening to the movement in the room, and there were two other knife-wielding gangsters inside, who were fighting lively.

Fortunately, Il now carries a beautiful (and undoubtedly particularly noticeable) Scepter, whose power may awaken a distant elf, who will aim his magic at Il.

This scepter, perhaps, has a curse attached to it, and is going to ruin anyone who offends him.

This scepter may belong to a certain elven family, and the humans who dare to touch it will be slaughtered by the elven relatives of this bloodline.

This scepter is still followed by people who have traveled thousands of miles to follow it.

Oh my God, how could he be so stupid! Il couldn't help but let out a long sigh to himself. It seemed that he had to find a good place to hide his scepter on this journey. This place was only for him, and the mysterious stalker behind him, as well as any elven guards, could not be approached. In other words, in this large forest, he had to find a place with a special mark, maybe under a certain tree. Of course, it must not be a tree.

Well, he's going to have to find a suitable place.

Over the course of many days, Eir struggled to cross the twelfth swamp he encountered along the way. Shortly after dawn that day, he finally found the place he was looking for. On the land ahead, there stood a sharp cliff, and the last boulder, one side towering, like a mighty ship, was about to sail towards the sun.

Ilr chose the cliff next to the "bow", which was low and surrounded by trees. One of the trees grew crooked to the side, well, there it was. Ilr knelt under the roots of the tree, digging and digging with his fingers until he reached the bottom of the rocks.

Ilr pulled the scepter out of his saddlebag and held it in the palm of his hand. It's a beautiful thing, and the pointed end is in the shape of a flame. Ilr shook his head respectfully and silently chanted a spell into his hand. Then he carefully placed it in the hole he had dug just now, buried it in the soil, pulled a piece of moss to cover the messed ground, and put the finishing touches on a handful of fallen leaves and petals. Il placed a stone under the tree, and a stone under each of the three trees that were about the same height next to him. He stopped in front of the last stone and cast another incantation. Blue and white flames erupted from his arms, and the exhaustion and weakness in his body barely made it impossible for him to hold on.

Il breathed a sigh of relief and rested for a while so that he would have enough stamina to complete the second spell. He plucked a hair from behind his ear, made a simple gesture, and recited a simple incantation.

It's done.

The young Arsenrant waited in silence for a moment, his ears wide to listen, looking back at the way he had come. There was no movement, only small animals that made small noises and ran in several different directions.

Il turned his head and continued on his way. He didn't want to waste hours in the same place, figuring out who was following him. Mistra had sent him to Comandor with something to do. Although the goddess did not tell him what the task was, he was needed there. The goddess said, "Arrive in time." That doesn't sound particularly urgent, but Il is eager to see what the legendary Elven City really is. Bards say that it is the most beautiful city in the entire continent of Faerun, and the city is full of miracles, and the elves are all handsome and heroic.

It's full of incredible magic, people are singing and laughing, and there are constant revelries; There are towers in the sky, buildings and forests are intertwined, and the scenery is breathtaking, like a huge garden; But this holy place does not allow any non-elven creatures to survive.

The people of Asenrant have an old proverb that is said to have been uttered by stupid gangsters: "A thousand-year-old treasure is within reach; At the end of the day, it was burned and burned. In other words, the treasure is clearly at hand, but it is forced by the situation to be unapproachable. These words are very subtle and subtle about Il's current situation. Il suspects that even if he finds Comando, he will only turn into a cloud of mist, floating outside the city for a long time without being able to enter.

However, even so, it is much better than being quietly killed by death magic and buried in a garden in Elven City. If that were the case, his mission of serving Mistra would never have been completed.

In the shade of a large tree, the young mage stopped, changed his saddlebag to his shoulders, stretched out like a cat, and quickened his pace to continue southwest. His feet were in the air and he walked silently. As he walked past a clear pond, he couldn't help but look at his own shadow on the still water. The figure, with unkempt black hair, a beard, and a kind blue eye, but a slightly hooked nose and a thin body. Luckily, it's not too ugly, but it doesn't seem to be easy to trust. Well, so be it, it looks like he's going to impress the elves.

If Il had looked back at this point, he would have seen a mushroom poking its head out of the damp dirt, as if something had pulled it out of the ground, and then retracted, and the thing recited a spell and quickly turned to the side. Is this young man really going to just go to Comando?

...