Oliver sighed heavily as he closed the book in frustration. "It's still not enough; far from it." The tome, despite containing a wealth of information he hadn't known before, felt fundamentally lacking. It was like a puzzle missing half its pieces. There were no specific names, no detailed accounts of the magic he sought; it was all vague and incomplete, as if someone had deliberately cut out crucial sections.
He noted that the only timeline he could verify was within the last ten years. And then there was the surprising revelation he had stumbled upon: the relationship between elves and humans was not as recent as he had been led to believe. In history class, he had dozed off during lectures, convinced by his teacher's insistence that this was the first contact between the two races. But now he realized there had been a significant "vacuum period" in history, during which no clear records existed. Even the elves, known for their long lives and extensive historical documentation, only began to keep detailed accounts after that time. Before then, everything was shrouded in ambiguity.
He had always thought of the radicals as just a group of reckless youths, but now it dawned on him that there might be influential figures among them. What had his teacher meant when he said these obstacles would eventually vanish? What methods would they use? And why were troubles mounting instead of resolving? Frustrated, Oliver scratched his head and rubbed his temples, overwhelmed by the unanswered questions.
---
Across the way, Aegnor sat calmly, facing a group of impatient elves. The tension was palpable in the air.
"So, what's the matter?" he asked, his voice low and unbothered. It wasn't that he lacked energy; rather, he didn't see the need to stress.
One elf stepped forward, frustration etched on his face. "We have weapons and supplies ready. Why are we still hesitating? With our current strength, a surprise attack would be effortless. We could crush the enemy in an instant!"
"Why the rush?" Aegnor replied, still seated, his posture relaxed. "We don't even know how many are inside. It's not the right time yet. We need to wait a little longer."
The elves exchanged anxious glances, their eagerness palpable. The opportunity was ripe, yet they were paralyzed, unable to act. Aegnor was indeed waiting for the perfect moment, and he discreetly observed the older members of the group from the corner of his eye, feeling the tension rise as their voices began to clash.
---
Meanwhile, Tom reclined in a chair, sipping freshly made juice. "So, according to the other side, the elves still have no intention of going to war?" he asked lazily. "That's good news. If they did, we wouldn't have time to prepare."
"How long do you think it'll take us to get ready?" another voice chimed in.
"Are you anxious?" Tom raised an eyebrow, amused.
"We're all in the same boat here. What's the point of keeping it a secret?"
"Well, transporting traps and supplies from all over the country takes time," he replied nonchalantly. "Even building a magic circle is no small feat. If I get caught up in this mess, my resources will be wasted."
"Just tell me, how many days?" the anxious voice pressed.
"Three days," Tom said, holding up three fingers. "Three days at most."
"Three days? That feels like an eternity," the other person groaned, yawning and turning away.
"But maybe the other side is simply daft. They should seize this opportunity while they can."
---
As afternoon approached, Oliver felt exhaustion creeping back in. Despite his earlier nap, it hadn't been restful; the awkward position and the strange dream left him drained. Figuring that another brief rest wouldn't hurt, he closed his eyes again, hoping for a clearer mind when he woke.
Oliver laid back, placing the book behind his head as a makeshift pillow. He was oblivious to the quiet presence of the two others standing nearby, their eyes on him. Exhaustion pulled him under, and soon he drifted into a dream.
It was a dream from long ago, simple and ordinary. In it, his old teacher stood before him, lining up four students without explanation, just organizing them as if it were routine. Two boys on one side, two girls in the middle. Aegnor was the first to step into place, and Oliver, as always, was the last. There was nothing significant about the scene; no important conversations, no grand gestures; just the teacher lining them up.
When Oliver awoke, it felt as if only minutes had passed, though he couldn't shake the oddness of the dream. "Why did I dream about that?" he muttered to himself, scratching his head in confusion. It was such a trivial memory, one that should have long since faded. It seemed strange to resurface now, but then again, dreams were strange things, unpredictable and fleeting. With a shrug, he pushed the thought aside.
Rising to his feet, Oliver glanced around. He hadn't found anything useful here, and it was clear that lingering would be pointless. His gaze shifted toward the two figures still standing nearby. He chose to avoid them, taking a detour to leave quietly.
As he walked, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He hadn't forgotten how close he came to being beaten senseless last time he was here. The thought still bothered him, but there was no need to dwell on it now. The sun was already low on the horizon, casting the world in a golden hue. There was still time to leave before nightfall, and so he pressed on.
---
Meanwhile, Aegnor clutched an item tightly in his hand, his knuckles whitening around it. There was no need to keep targeting Oliver anymore. His previous actions had been nothing more than a mix of following his teacher's orders and indulging in some idle mischief.
"Even if he's injured, a soak in holy water would fix him up," Aegnor muttered to himself. "As long as he's not dead, the water will heal him." Holy water, unbottled and pure, had remarkable healing properties.
Now, it was time for him to move on. It wasn't a final farewell, but he wouldn't be returning anytime soon.
Leaning back in his chair, Aegnor sighed deeply. "If it wasn't for my teacher, I'd have thought he was a lunatic," he mused, shaking his head. He let himself relax, if only for a moment, trying to push away the weight of everything happening around him.
---
On a quiet, deserted rooftop, two figures huddled in conversation, their eyes scanning the bustling world below.
"So, is that really a reasonable plan?" one asked, voice low, as if to ensure no one overheard. "Seems like it'll be tough for you."
"Yeah, I don't really have experience with this kind of thing," the other admitted. "But it's the best I could come up with right now."
"Well, it's better than nothing. Thanks for sharing."
"No problem," came the reply. After a brief pause, the first figure asked, "By the way, have you seen Oliver lately?"
"Yeah, I did," came the response. "He doesn't seem too different."
"That's good, I suppose. At least nothing major has happened to him."
---
Elsewhere, Nisha glanced at her sister, An, noticing the tension etched on her face. It was rare to see An looking so troubled.
"Sister, what's wrong? You look worried," Nisha asked, her voice filled with concern.
An's expression was unusually serious as she sighed. "The radicals have been getting more aggressive lately," she admitted, her tone cautious. "I have a bad feeling about it. Something's going to happen soon. You should be careful."
Nisha frowned, sensing the depth of her sister's unease. "Do you know what might happen?"
An shook her head, uncertain. "I can't say for sure. It might not even involve the radicals directly. It's just a feeling; something big is coming. I hope it's just my imagination."
Nisha could see the worry lining An's usually composed face. It wasn't like her to let emotions slip through like this. "And if it's not your imagination?"
An's face hardened slightly, her usual coolness returning. "If it's not, then it doesn't matter. As a member of the royal family, I've long accepted that life can disappear in an instant. I'm not one to entertain ridiculous fantasies or fears."
Her words were cold but resolute. An had no illusions about the fragile nature of life and power. If something was coming, she would face it head-on, without hesitation.