The immortal elf.

"I am not hiding, nor do I wish to come down from here. Stop wasting your time."

Eren's voice was calm and unyielding a firm wall against Donovan's persistent presence. He remained seated beneath the ancient tree, his silver hair catching the moonlight, his posture relaxed but guarded.

Donovan, unsurprisingly, didn't budge.

"You young ones think sitting on a mountain makes you wise?" the elder elf scoffed, shaking his head. "I climbed all the way up here, risking my perfectly good ancient bones, and this is how you greet me?"

"You didn't have to come," Eren pointed out.

"Of course, I did!" Donovan threw his hands in the air, his cane momentarily forgotten. "I need you, boy. The school needs you. We're drowning with students, and half of them wouldn't last a day in real battle if a rogue monster so much as sneezed in their direction!"

Eren remained unmoved. "Not my concern."

Donovan groaned, dramatically clutching his chest as if Eren had just run him through with a blade. "You wound me. Truly. Do you even realise how difficult it is to find good teachers? The moment they hear 'Defence' in the curriculum, they run for the hills!"

Eren said nothing, his expression unreadable.

Donovan sighed. "All I ask is that you consider it. You were once the defender of the realm. You know more about warfare than any of those so-called 'masters' parading through my halls. You belong there."

At that, Eren's fingers curled slightly, but his face remained impassive.

The defender of the realm. It had been years since he'd heard that title. A name that once defined him, shaped him, and eventually—buried him.

But that was then. Now, he was something else entirely.

Eren had felt Donovan's presence the moment the elder elf set foot on the mountain. His super senses, once impossible to silence, had long since adapted to his will. There had been a time when he could hear a whisper from miles away, feel the shift in the air before a storm, and sense the heartbeat of a living creature before it even approached.

But he had learned to shut it all off. To control it.

Now, he wielded not just super senses, but all four elements, air, water, fire, and earth. The culmination of a decade of training, of battles fought and won, of a fate he had never asked for but had accepted nonetheless.

And then, there was immortality.

Two years had passed since he had been gifted with it, if 'gifted' was even the right word.

Immortal. The word still felt foreign on his tongue, a weight he wasn't sure he wanted to carry. Was it a blessing or a curse?

And yet, the thought of being an immortal always led him back to one thing. To one woman.

But the past was in the past. And he would not return.

Eren exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting to Donovan, who was watching him expectantly.

"You should leave," he said at last. "I'm not going with you."

But Donovan only smiled. "We'll see about that."

Eren closed his eyes once more, shutting out the world around him, seeking solace in the familiar silence of meditation. Years of solitude, of having almost no one to talk to, had slowly closed him off. He had grown accustomed to the stillness, to the absence of conversation.

But he was rudely interrupted by Donovan's sigh, heavy with desperation. "I only want your help, child. I am begging you."

Eren felt the rustle of movement beside him, but he kept his eyes shut, unwilling to be drawn into a conversation he had no interest in continuing.

To his surprise, a soft thud echoed against the ground. Eren's eyes snapped open.

"What are you doing?" he asked, bewildered to find Donovan on his knees, head bowed in an exaggerated display of humility.

"I will remain this way until you agree," the elder replied.

Eren couldn't help but let out a frustrated sigh, the tension in his shoulders tightening. "Donovan, you can't be serious."

"Ah, but I am!" Donovan insisted, looking up with a playful glint in his blue eyes. "You see, I've learned that sometimes, one must resort to theatrics to get the point across. And theatricality is certainly more entertaining than grovelling."

Eren sighed, he understood that Donovan was on a mission, "What exactly do you need me to teach at the school?" he asked.

Donovan grinned, brushing off his robes as he straightened. "Ah, now that is an excellent question." He tapped his cane against the ground, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

"You, my dear boy, will be teaching Combat Magic and Elemental Mastery."

Eren arched a brow. "No."

"Oh, come now, don't be so quick to refuse," Donovan said, waving a hand dismissively. "You control all four elements—who better to guide the young ones who struggle to so much as conjure a spark?"

Eren crossed his arms. "There are others who can do that."

Donovan sighed, shaking his head. "Yes, but none with your expertise. These students will not just be scholars—they are future warriors and defenders of the realm. You were once the finest among them."

Eren's jaw tightened at the reminder, but he said nothing.

Donovan continued, sensing he had a sliver of his attention. "Elemental magic is a rare gift and mastery of it? Even rarer. Many students possess the affinity for one or two elements, but they lack control and discipline."

He paused, then added carefully, "You can teach them that."

Eren glanced at him, considering. "And if I refuse?"

Donovan sighed dramatically. "Then I suppose I'll have to keep climbing mountains and embarrassing myself on my knees until you come to your senses."

Eren exhaled through his nose. This old man would never stop.

"…Fine," he relented at last. "But I teach on my own terms. No one will know who I am. No titles. No past. Just another instructor."

Donovan's grin returned full force. "Agreed."

And just like that, the deal was struck.