"So, what are you doing here? Isn't Aegnor still hunting you down?" An stood up, pulling out a stool and gesturing for Oliver to sit. Her tone was casual, but there was a sharpness in her eyes. "Last time, I let you walk away because of our… history."
Oliver shot her a knowing look. "Come on, stop pretending," he said, settling onto the stool with a weary sigh. "Those were just Aegnor's words. I wandered through the elves' territory for days and didn't see anyone coming after me. Even the two people he resurrected made it clear they wouldn't target me again when I ran into them."
An clicked her tongue in annoyance and leaned back, crossing her arms. "Tsk."
"Anyway," Oliver continued, "I suppose I owe you an explanation for being here." He reached into his coat, pulling out a small notebook and tapping it against the table. "She left me this notebook. Told me to come back once I understood what was inside."
An froze, her playful demeanor vanishing in an instant. "A notebook?" she asked, her voice suddenly serious.
"Yeah," Oliver looked at her, confused by her sudden change in tone. "Why? Is something wrong?"
An's expression hardened. "What else did she say after that?" There was a dangerous edge in her voice now, the kind that meant something far deeper was at play.
Oliver hesitated. Whenever An got like this, it meant things were about to get complicated. "Uh, nothing much. Why?"
She didn't answer immediately, instead muttering to herself. "The teacher told me something too... After Aegnor makes his move, once he does something that changes the elves' fate, I'm supposed to take action." She clenched her fists slightly, lost in thought.
Oliver narrowed his eyes. This wasn't a joke. He could tell from her sudden shift in demeanor. "What action?"
"I'm supposed to lead the elves," she said, her voice calm but firm.
"Lead the elves?" Oliver repeated, the weight of her words sinking in. He knew what that meant; the blood that flowed through An's veins was royal, and the responsibility that came with it had always been looming over her. "So, you're to become the commander of the elves?"
An nodded. "Yes. According to what the teacher told me, the elves who were part of the catastrophe are supposed to be separated now. The old factions that caused her so much trouble should be gone, or at least greatly diminished. But the remaining radicals, they'll try to regroup, and they won't support me. They'll align themselves with others who have ulterior motives."
Oliver thought about the current state of the elves. The factions were in chaos, with no clear leadership. It was hard to tell how many would support An, and how many would turn against her. "So you need my help," he concluded.
An smiled faintly. "Yes. The teacher said I'd need you. And given the state of the elves right now, we can expect betrayals. The internal strife has left us vulnerable, and those who oppose me are likely to use this as an opportunity. But for those who still choose to stand by me, they must be doing so for more than just political gain. They'll want something more… personal."
Oliver scratched his head, trying to process it all. The elves had always been a mess of grudges and old rivalries. But now, things seemed even more fractured than before. "I thought I hated some of the elves for a reason, but… if what the teacher says is true, maybe those reasons are gone now."
An nodded thoughtfully. "The teacher said something similar. She believed that in the end, the reasons for your hatred would disappear. You'd no longer have a reason to hate them."
Oliver frowned, rubbing his forehead. "But why would the teacher be so… violent about it?"
An chuckled suddenly, as if remembering something amusing. "She's not violent, just a little... unhinged."
"Driven crazy, huh?"
"Exactly. When she talks about the elves, she's all teeth-grinding and zero patience."
At that moment, Ziggy, the pharmacist, walked over with a small vial in hand. "Here," he said, handing it to Oliver. "This will help balance your magical energy until your spirit and body are back in harmony. It could take two or three months."
"Thanks," Oliver said, accepting the potion. He downed it in one go, grimacing at the bitter taste. "Two or three months, huh? Great… just what I needed," he muttered, realizing how long it would take to get back to full strength. That might complicate things.
As Oliver set the empty vial aside, An suddenly turned to him with a curious expression. "By the way," she started, her eyes narrowing, "I've always wondered something."
"Uh-oh," Oliver muttered, already sensing trouble.
"Why does the teacher feel so sorry for you? I've seen her in private, hammering her fists into walls, sighing about how much easier everything would be if you had normal levels of magic. What's up with that?"
Oliver blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, seriously? She said that?"
An nodded, leaning in as if she were letting him in on a secret. "Yeah. She kept muttering that if you had normal magic, things would be so much simpler. She seemed really upset about it."
Oliver leaned back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. "Well, that's news to me," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I guess my magic's been a bigger headache for her than I realized."
An smirked, shaking her head. "You're more of a headache than your magic, trust me."
Oliver chuckled, but there was a seriousness lingering between them now, an unspoken understanding of the weight that hung over both of their heads. The future of the elves, their own roles in it, and the teacher's cryptic plans; it was all converging. And the road ahead was far from clear.
"How should I explain this?" Oliver took a deep breath and downed the cold potion in one go. "The archery, teacher taught me is divided into three main sections. The first is basic archery, and the following sections delve into more advanced techniques. Unfortunately, since my magic isn't strong enough, I've only mastered the first section and a bit of the second. The rest, I've had to piece together based on descriptions."
"Can you give me an example?" An leaned forward, intrigued. The teacher had never shared these details with her. Nisha, standing nearby, also perked up, eager to learn more.
"Sure! The second section focuses on using magic with your arrows. For instance, you can infuse an arrow with magic to create different effects. You could pack it with explosive magic so that when it hits a target, it detonates and sends shards flying everywhere. Or you might wrap the arrow in a magical aura for added power. But more complex changes, like altering the arrow's quality, are beyond my skills."
"What about the third section?" An asked, her curiosity piqued.
"I don't really know," Oliver admitted, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "The last time I asked the teacher about it, she sighed deeply, punched my shoulder, and walked away, clearly frustrated."
"Are the holidays coming up soon?" An asked, changing the subject slightly.
"You remember that?" Oliver replied, surprised.
"Well, the dark circles under your eyes are pretty telling," An said with a smirk.
Nisha couldn't help but chuckle at this, though she quickly covered her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter. It was unexpected; Oliver hadn't realized how much his weariness had made an impression.
Just then, Ziggy, the pharmacist, chimed in. "If I'm not mistaken, I think I've heard of this archery technique before."
"Really?" The trio looked at her in surprise. "You know about it?"
"Yes," Ziggy continued, her expression thoughtful. "It's not entirely unfamiliar. Though not every elf could master it, about one in two hundred had the ability."
Oliver and An exchanged bewildered glances. "What does that mean for elves today? Are they... degenerating?" Oliver asked, bewildered.
Ziggy shrugged. "In that era, skilled archers could even summon natural disasters with their arrows."
"Wait, what?" Oliver blinked in disbelief. "Summoning natural disasters with arrows? That sounds a bit extreme, doesn't it? Shouldn't all mages just give up?"
"But here's the odd part," Ziggy continued. "After I was resurrected, I found that no one in this era could truly wield that kind of archery anymore."
An, her surprise fading, asked, "What do you think caused that?"
Ziggy paused, considering her words carefully. "Maybe it's what you all refer to as a 'blessing.' Or more precisely, it's the absence of one."
"Why would that matter?" An questioned.
"In the past, we didn't have the concept of blessings," Ziggy explained. "But after our resurrection, blessings emerged; even though they didn't exist before we died."
An glanced at Oliver. "So, you don't have a blessing, right?"
"Correct," Oliver confirmed. "But is that why I can learn this technique? Surely the teacher knows about it too?"
"That's a fair point," An replied, nodding thoughtfully.
They shared a moment of silence, contemplating the implications. It was a peculiar realization: perhaps their teachers had their own reasons for not sharing everything, regardless of their age or experience.