"Boom!"

A black-backed blackfinch that wanted to take a nap in the afternoon was awakened by a loud noise, and it flapped its wings and flew high into the air from the perched branches, trying to figure out what was happening, but in its short life span of three years, it had no memory of it, and the walnut's small head could not have the human mind, so it did not understand, but it didn't matter, it didn't need to acquire too advanced knowledge for a bird, it just needed to know that this place was no longer suitable for rest.

Cremar's job today was to clear up a piece of near the river that had been confused by the rock slide - the cracked and sliding rubble crushed a large area of juvenile fissure maple trees and blocked a small nest of otters, at the top of the sliding bed, there were several crumbling rocks entangled in tree roots, and the elves had to remove them completely to avoid further harm, and the caster first moved a large pile of soft dirt and pebbles, extending the entire area of the sliding bed to the river beach, Then a small spell was used to make them greasy - the countless pieces of rubble that were not so safe were thrust by the large ones released after the roots had been severed, and they were driven down the nascent sliding bed towards the Starlight River.

The river suddenly became muddy, and there was a peculiar scar-like bulge on the smooth beach, and the elves clung to the vines and slowly slid down the walls of the landslide, piercing each wide and narrow crack with their short swords and daggers along the way, looking for those who could slip through the net and might cause a second landslide, their movements were light and graceful, and they joked with each other, not that no elves had been buried by the mud and rock torrent of the second landslide - but as long as they were dug up in time, there was basically nothing to lose except clothes and pride.

Irda knelt on one knee in front of the otter's burrow, which had been a good spot, between the two roots of the fissure maple tree, only a dozen feet from the Starlight River, and the female elf's fingers swung gently above the approximate location of the hole, sensing the breath of life - otters usually have several holes, one of which would lead directly to the river, but now they seemed to be completely filled - a small, impatient voice came from one place, and Ilda's finger stopped on it, and began to dig through the dirt and gravel on it.

In a few moments, she could clearly feel the vibration under the soil, perhaps knowing that she was about to be saved, the little creature below became more and more anxious and irritable, it crawled at the dirt, screaming loudly, although the sound became muffled and low after passing through the soil, but the elf's ears could still catch every detail.

"Cremar?"

"What?" Cremar walked over and looked curiously at Ilda, where she knelt with her fingers in the dirt.

"A little friend," Ilda explained, "I think it's an otter, and I want to help it out, but it seems to be hurt, so it's getting a little irritable - do you have a spell to calm it down?"

- Wait, the lich said before Cremar nodded.

――？

- No, no, promise her.

――Do you have any questions?

- She is testing you. Maybe in a little while she'll ask if you have any spells in place that have nothing to do with today's work.

――What?

Cremar cast the spell, and the otter, which had become docile and calm by the spell, was quickly dug up by Ilda, who examined its body and found that its tail had been pinched off by something.

At any other time, Ilda would have done the whole thing - washing, healing, and letting the poor creature go, but today she just handed it over to another elf - "Can you do me another favor?" Ilda asked.

- Oh, said the lich.

Ilda's help was simple, cutting the vine, which was used to collect the sap of the maple tree, and the black vine, which was used as food, the same one that Kerry had given to Cremar, a parasitic plant, as thick as a human man's thumb, stripped of its black outer skin, and the core of which was dried and ground to something like wheat flour.

Elves and half-elves tend to collect them by jumping onto branches and slashing them with a scimitar or dagger, but spellcasters are the most effective, especially in areas where trees and vines are too dense.

- Fenway. The lich said he was a nasty fellow - he must have suspected that we were warlocks.

- Are we warlocks?

- Only you are, because you're so stupid, the lich said, if you want to be a mage, you have to have the longevity of a dragon, and you have to have a masochistic god like Lauvita to be your mentor.

- Actually, the soul of the other world said cautiously, I don't understand your analogy, well, maybe a little, but what I want to know most is what to do next? Tell her I didn't prepare that spell?

- It's not uncommon to encounter an angry animal in Grey Ridge, and as for cutting vines, well, it's okay, just let them know you're a warlock.

- But you're a mage!

- This is a question that cannot be covered up with lies, rest assured, fool, I have expected this, just like my paternal bloodline, if they do ask, tell them that you don't know what it's all about, it's not a lie, you really don't know, that's it.

- Okay?

- Yes, take your innocent idiot face, I promise, it will always be invincible.

- Is there anything wrong with the Warlock?

- Warlock's magic comes from blood, the lich said, and this bloodline comes almost exclusively from evil dragons, devils, demons, orcs...... In short, for these elves, it's a nightmare - so they're sensitive to it.

- And you want me to refuse to answer!, the otherworldly soul screamed.

- You're just telling the truth, and they're only ashamed of their actions, the lich scoffs because they suspect a friend and want to force him to say something they don't want to say.

This, I believe, sighed the otherworldly soul as Ilda barely dared to look him in the eye.

Cremar may have a secret, but he doesn't seem to want to hide it - an embarrassed Ilda thinks that she will have to admit that she was under Fenway's influence, but she will never do it again - even if the kid is a warlock, so what, as the ruler of Greyridge says, warlocks are not all vicious.

She stood on the slightly trembling drawbridge, hesitating whether to talk to Fenway, she had told Fenway no less than dozens of times that Cremar was just a child, she was, was, and would not have a so-called affection for him, and after a while, maybe she would transfer this responsibility to someone more suitable, such as the returning Careyben?

However, Fenway remained indifferent and disdainful of this, still hating Cremar and similarly refusing to mention Ilda, who was named by that name.

The glass and crystal windows were shrouded in darkness, and Ilda knew he must be studying the evil spellbook that needed to be destroyed as soon as possible in that airtight, fluorite-lit room - she hesitated for a moment, then turned and walked away.

Ilda had guessed correctly, Fenway was indeed in the windowless room, but he hadn't opened the spell book, and what he was staring at was a shiny Mithril Mirror, which had been placed at the bottom of the last spell material chest, with subtle runes depicted on the back, and he dripped his own blood and a drop of devil's blood on the mirror according to the instructions on the letterhead, and the blood continued to spread on the silver mirror, deepening, deep enough to be able to absorb light- Then it lit up again, a slight glow that only allowed Fenway to see the other person's face.

"May the magical galaxy shine forever upon you and me, Master Fenway. The man on the other end said.

"May the magical galaxy shine forever upon you and me, Master Demun. Fenway said.

Monroe felt like he had been in good hands.

After a brief encounter with Flo's priest, he thought it was just a fleeting flash of spring worth revisiting in his increasingly hollow and boring life, and he even suspected that it was just a dream, but the next morning he saw the beautiful woman again, dressed in a cream-colored silk robe, with a gold chain hanging from her waist, and the bell on the gold chain was the same one his friend had given her.

She bit the bay leaf with her teeth, softly, with a little ferocity, like biting his lips, skin, and the rest of the world that night.

Monroe looked at her without blinking, and he didn't miss that playful wink and slightly curled fingers.

Come, good man, she "said".