High Elves

The city of Eldrinvar is considered small—not because it truly is, but because, compared to the grand cities scattered across the elven lands, its population ranks among the lowest. The primary reason for this lies in its proximity to the Dark Forest.

Though the Dark Forest itself isn't inherently dangerous, its very presence is enough to drive people away. After all, while those in power understand that as long as one doesn't set foot inside, there's nothing to fear, ordinary folk don't share the same certainty. In fact, many believe that even approaching its borders could spell their doom.

This fear stems from the countless terrifying rumors whispered among commoners. Though baseless, such deep-rooted beliefs are not so easily erased.

...

Sylvara signed her name on the document before handing it back to the clerk. Then, she asked, "No news about the Dark Crystal?"

The clerk bowed and replied apologetically, "I'm sorry, Your Honor, but no one knows anything about such an item."

"I see. I understand. Thank you for your efforts—you may leave," she said.

The clerk bowed once more before exiting the room.

The moment the door shut, Edric stepped out from the shadows. "Why are you still asking about the Dark Crystal? I already know where it is."

Sylvara, his clone, folded her arms and frowned. "Are you really sure? You only dug into the area—you haven't seen it with your own eyes. You can't be certain."

Edric scoffed. "What else could produce such a terrifying concentration of dark energy?"

Sylvara considered his words before replying, "Maybe that's just how the Dark Forest works. The deeper you dig, the stronger the dark energy becomes."

Edric shook his head. "Do you think I'm stupid? Of course, I checked other places. The dark energy concentration has nothing to do with depth—it's all about location. If you dig near the spot where I suspect the Dark Crystal is buried, the energy thickens the deeper you go. But if you dig far away, even hundreds of miles, the energy level stays the same as it is on the surface."

Sylvara smirked. "You are stupid. For a Mythic Mage, I expected you to be much smarter."

Edric's eye twitched. He had heard that Mythic-level clones were highly realistic, but he hadn't expected Sylvara to be so disrespectful.

"Hey, I'm the main body. You can't talk to me like that!" he warned.

Sylvara merely shook her head. "You're the boss, and I'll obey if you order me to be respectful. But before you do, let me just say—it wouldn't hurt to have someone who speaks without fearing you. I can tell you things you might not think of. If you silence me, you'll only restrict your ability to hear the truth."

Edric stared at her, mulling over her words. After a long pause, he sighed and gave a reluctant nod. "Fine. Talk however you want."

Then, he tossed a handful of space rings into her hands. "I came back because I have to wait a few years. Take these—there are plenty of dark-elemental materials inside. Sell them and send me the money."

Taking the space rings while nodding, Sylvara asked, "Why do you have to wait a few years?"

Edric thought to himself, "I didn't transfer much of my own memories to this clone, which is why she doesn't act like me. Instead, she behaves just like the original Sylvara… I can't let her know about the system and XP."

"I was exhausted after digging for so long, so I decided to rest for a while. Alright, see you later. Call me once you've sold all the dark-element materials," Edric said before leaving without waiting for a response.

Sylvara shook her head, frustrated with her main body. "I wish I were the main body. Having a clone is so much fun."

She glanced inside the space rings—and was instantly stunned.

Mountains upon mountains of legendary and mythic dark soil filled the spatial storage. She was utterly speechless.

"How… How did he dig up this much Mythic Soil? How can a Mythic Knight and Mage achieve this?" Her mind raced, quickly piecing together the answer. "He has a trump card I don't know about… Damn it! Even my own main body doesn't trust me enough to tell me everything!" She sighed in frustration.

Sylvara had many siblings and trusted them all without hesitation. The bond between a clone and its main body was even closer than that of siblings—yet Edric still kept secrets from her. It felt insulting.

"Damn it… It's such a shame I have to listen to him," she thought bitterly. Being a clone was more restrictive than being a slave—escaping the influence of the main body was nearly impossible.

"I can only hope he'll trust me more over time. If I carry out his tasks perfectly, maybe he'll open up to me."

Rebellion never even crossed her mind. No matter what, that was something she wouldn't do.

...

The city of Eldrinvar was built by High Elves.

And what were High Elves famous for? Their impeccable taste in art, their unmatched beauty, their breathtaking architecture, and their obsession with cleanliness.

Even though Eldrinvar was small, it was nothing short of extraordinary. The entire city felt like a masterpiece—spotlessly clean, lined with stunningly expensive homes, government buildings, and lavish stores. Masterfully crafted sculptures, paintings, and other works of art adorned every corner, turning the city itself into a living museum.

"Is this a city or an art exhibit?" Edric thought.

This was the first time he truly noticed the city, and he had to admit—its beauty was impressive.

But something felt... off.

"There are no brothels, no fighting arenas… not even a tavern? The restaurants look so high-class, I wonder if anyone can even afford to eat in them."

Though undeniably beautiful, Edric quickly realized Eldrinvar wasn't the kind of place he could stay in for long. It was just too… boring.

Everyone carried themselves with an air of seriousness, their expressions carved from stone. Was it pride? No, not pride—arrogance. Not arrogance born from achievements, but from birthright. They were High Elves, the most exquisite race in the world. Everything else? Inferior.

Edric sighed. "This superiority complex is so stupid."

It was one thing to take pride in what you had accomplished—but being proud simply because of your looks, your race, or your gender? That was just ridiculous.

Edric, on the other hand, knew why he was proud of himself. Sure, the system had helped him tremendously, but his own resilience and caution had played just as crucial a role in his rapid rise to Ultra Knight.

He folded his arms, lost in thought.

"Humans and elves are actually pretty similar. I remember plenty of humans on Earth who acted just like this. Aside from slight differences in appearance, lifespan, and physique… mentally, they're practically the same."

He smirked to himself. "I guess arrogance knows no racial boundaries."

"The real problem is groupthink."

In any society dominated by a single belief, dissent is crushed before it even takes root. Anyone who dares to question the status quo is silenced, ridiculed, or worse.

"I wonder if the High Elves here are the same." Edric mused, intrigued.

He wasn't a good person—not even close. He was the very definition of a villain. Talking about right and wrong? He had no ground to stand on. But in his mind, he didn't need one.

Consistency? That was for the weak.

He could slaughter without a second thought, yet still be annoyed by the High Elves' arrogance. Hypocrisy? Maybe. But strength gave him the luxury of inconsistency. Weak people had to be principled to be taken seriously. The strong? They did whatever they pleased.

And right now, he was bored.

"Might as well waste some time studying High Elven psychology and culture."

His first experiment? Finding dissidents—those who secretly didn't believe in High Elf superiority but lacked the courage to say so.

Smirking, Edric decided to test something. With a flick of his fingers, he cast a spell, altering his appearance. His pointed ears rounded out, his body shifted into a muscular human form, his once-sharp features roughened, and his elegant robes transformed into plain, worn-out clothes.

Humans were rare in the Elven Empire, but they weren't unheard of. Occasionally, human merchants passed through, and by law, mortals were free to walk the streets without restriction.

Of course, that only applied to mortal humans. Any human of Legendary rank or above had to register upon arrival—otherwise, they'd be treated as enemy spies.

Now disguised as an ordinary human, Edric stepped onto the streets of Eldrinvar.

Instantly, he felt their eyes on him.

Elves passing by cast him disgusted looks, their expressions twisting as though they'd just seen an ugly ghost. Some sneered. Others whispered. None greeted him.

"Tch. Let's just keep walking and see their reactions. Maybe I'll find someone who isn't disgusted," he thought.

A High Elf who could look at him without disdain—that would likely be the dissident he was searching for.