Chapter 9 Symbols of Consolidating Power

"...Sir, are you alright?"

When Russell regained consciousness from the momentary paralysis caused by the impact and intense pain, he heard a calm and aged voice coming from a corner.

He didn't respond immediately, but instead, his first instinct was to bear the excruciating pain, raise his blade, and look towards the mercenary who had been confronting him.

But what met his eyes was only a headless corpse lying on the ground.

...That's a relief.

Director Bad Day hadn't betrayed me after all.

Russell thought with mixed feelings.

He was very aware that with his skill level, even close combat was nearly impossible, let alone beheading someone with a single sword strike.

The previous miracle of slicing a bullet with a sword amid extreme fear and tension was almost certainly not going to happen again. Asking Russell to perform it once more would likely just get him killed on the spot.

But if he made a mistake even once, he would probably get blown to smithereens...

...No, wait.

That's it.

Russell suddenly realized Director Bad Day's thought process.

Because Russell was a fake hero, the sword strike wasn't his doing at all. He hadn't undergone military training, and his nimble body relied solely on the talents he received from his prone-spiritual.

Just as a human with a dog as a prone-spiritual may gain an olfactory sense close to that of canine species; a human with a pigeon as a prone-spiritual might inherit the ability to recognize magnetic fields for orientation. It's not always a change in organs, more often it's a sort of superpower called "Spiritual Connection".

Take Director Bad Day, for instance—his nose structure is the same as Russell's, but his sense of smell is probably stronger than that of the average person—how much stronger also depends on luck.

Like Russell's mother—her digestive system isn't weak and is just like that of an average person. Even with other foods and medicines, she can consume them normally.

But she just can't eat chocolate... simply because "Desert Cats can't eat it" either. There's no other reason.

This illogical, cause-and-effect-surpassing connectivity is the "prone-spiritual" passed down through the bloodline.

To prevent their child from accidentally violating a taboo and ending up dead, as soon as the child starts showing signs of prone-spiritualization, they must undergo a physical exam to discern individual traits, clarify personal prohibitions and talents.

Director Bad Day certainly got his medical report from his parents when he was a child. That's why he knew he could maintain relative safety in combat.

But with Russell's abilities, he would struggle to defeat such a high-level enemy, even one-on-one.

Let alone four against one.

—So, Director Bad Day was deliberately waiting for an injury to occur.

At least one significant enough to visibly affect fighting capabilities, such as obvious damage to internal organs or the musculoskeletal system.

Only then, after Russell became famous, would he not attract trouble far beyond his skill level due to his fame being much greater than his actual prowess.

Russell would have an excuse that he "wasn't as strong as in the news."

Which means that Director Bad Day had been on the sidelines all along. The moment the opponent inflicted noticeable damage, Director Bad Day immediately beheaded him from a distance of a hundred meters without the assailant being able to inflict a truly fatal wound.

...You could have let me know beforehand.

Russell grumbled inwardly, slowly letting go of his anxiety.

Of course, Russell himself knew—if he had been aware that he was supposed to take a beating, the injury might have been worse. Like that explosive bullet, he might not have been able to intercept it. And without enough willpower, he probably wouldn't have been able to unleash the true power of the Spiritual Energy Weapon.

Still, the feeling of having survived a brush with death left him feeling utterly drained.

"—Sir?"

The old man called again, and Russell finally reacted.

"I'm fine."

Although still fatigued and internally complaining, a pure, professional smile immediately spread across Russell's face, "Don't worry, sir. The remaining three have all been taken down by me. We're safe."

He emphasized the word "we" instead of "you."

"That's great, sir! You've saved our lives!"

Tied to the captain's chair and only able to operate the airship in front of him without turning back, the captain couldn't see Russell and just shouted without looking back, "Once you recover some strength, could you please untie me? I can't reach the control lever to slow down and descend the airship, I can only keep it circling above Happiness Island."

"No problem..."

Russell answered gently.

He didn't push through the pain; instead, he walked to the captain's side, clearly staggering and not hiding his weakness.

After losing his "determination," the Light Blade on his Spiritual Energy Weapon had also disappeared without a trace, turning back into the ordinary Short Sword from before.

Breathing heavily, Russell strenuously untied the ropes around the captain and carefully dismantled a device with a needle hanging around his neck.

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Following that, he turned around and began to untie the old man in the corner.

Even though his jacket had been removed, he was bound to the corner, unable to move, and handcuffed, he still appeared spirited, with a calm and composed look in his eyes. It was as if he had already witnessed scenes far greater than this and there was not the slightest fear in his eyes.

Indeed, this was a very rare elf elder— the clock in the corner of Russell's vision told him that the year was 1202.

The term "Elf" is a transliteration of the "Longevity Species" in human language. Similarly, the term "human" is derived from the phrase "Short-lived Species" in the Elvish language.

The biggest difference between elves and humans is that elves do not display "prone-spiritualization." They do not develop any animalistic features, only possessing pointed ears.

In Russell's eyes, these elves seemed more like what he envisaged as "humans" than actual humans did.

In fact... in the knowledge that Russell had acquired, there were some elf scholars who believed that "prone-spiritualization" was a form of "degeneration."

If one were to remove all animalistic traits via a computer model, what would be left would resemble an elf. They believed that it was precisely because of the prevalence of prone-spiritual traits that the "Short-lived Species" could not achieve long lifespans.

At one time, Russell had held that belief as well, but now Russell knew—it was nonsense. Knowledge from another world told him that even without the furry cat or dog ears, one still wouldn't live past a hundred years.

However, all elves possessed lifespans of over a thousand years.

And the elf before Russell's eyes was already withering with age.

This meant that the elder had likely been born before the "Zero Year."

"Please don't move rashly, otherwise I might accidentally cut you."

Russell said gently in a low voice, as he untied the old man.

The old man nodded slightly.

As for status...

There was no need to worry.

It could almost be said that all elves—100 percent of them—were Big Shots.

The seven giant corporations that ruled the world—heavily influenced by their power at the top echelons, within the "board of directors"—half of the positions were occupied by the Longevity Species.

That is to say, elves held sway over half of the world's power.

The other half of the positions were left for the Short-lived Species to compete for.

For the Short-lived Species whose lifespans fell short of a century, at best they could only clumsily preserve their wealth and status through antiquated means like "family" and "kinship."

In this process, there was bound to be attrition, and it was immense. Coupled with the active intervention of the elves, there was almost no human lineage that could maintain its status beyond four generations.

But these elves, nearly all of them were born before the two world wars.

They had experienced both world wars first hand, snatching ample benefits from the conflicts. And today's humans didn't even know who fought whom in those wars.

Compared to the elves Russell had seen in artworks from another world, who lived in harmony with forests, could live for thousands of years and learned nothing more than archery—and even at that, were clumsy—the elves of this world were like "solidified power."

They did not become slothful because of their longevity. Instead, they became extraordinarily patient, learning knowledge in various fields and multiplying their wealth and power through the most conservative of operations.

The wealth these elves had acquired had not diminished one bit over generations... instead, it multiplied with the passage of time.

And up to now, they still hadn't perished. In fact, more than half of the elves were in the vigorous prime of life.

A lifespan so prolonged allowed wealth and power to become directly solidified in their hands. Knowledge, secrets, networks, influence, leverage... and at the same time, they remained highly united.

Although there were extremely fierce struggles within the Longevity Species... as soon as there was an external threat, the elves from all corporations would unite, presenting a united front.

Even the most brilliant of humans could only reach, at most, the starting point of the elves in their entire lifetime. That is, dragging their aging bodies into the "board of directors," only to turn to dust and return their position less than fifty years later.

If one were to say that in this airship, someone's memories held special value...

Then without a doubt, it could only be this elf elder before him.

Yet another question arose in Russell's heart—

With elf features so distinct, one could recognize their value with a single glance. So, why bother searching memories one by one?

"Child," the elf elder began softly, "the weapon you hold, is it 'Sage Beheading'?"

"...Who are you?"

Russell felt somewhat uneasy.

He didn't actually know the provenance of the Spiritual Energy Weapon he held and could only ask feebly in response.

"My name is Amirus. This name means 'Determination' in the Elf Language. My position is as the General Manager of the Thoth Spiritual Energy's Happiness Island branch," the old man said calmly.

He revealed a kind smile and spoke in an old yet gentle voice, "In fact, the Spiritual Energy Weapon you're holding was named by me.

"You are… Alice's child, aren't you."

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