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Inside An Alley in the Northern District

Inside an alley, the sound of metal crashing into brittle adobe walls, cracking them, resounded as splinters flew around, hitting the participants of their stand-off.

The alley was dirty and packed with crates and boxes used as trash cans and compost containers by the locality. However, the fight between the three individuals around the place frightened the smaller local population, making them flee in all directions.

An arrow flew over Quill's head, which he barely avoided while leaning forward, readying himself for a counterattack. The target was the night-elf he pursued from the brothel, marked with a spell and visibly tired. It would be easy to catch them, but a problem stood on the roof, using him as targeting practice.

Quill avoided having a hole in his head by observing physical and mana movements in the vicinity, trying to predict every attack, basically estimating the most probable outcome and subsequent actions in the next seconds. His mind burned up as the calculations became increasingly challenging, but he found the result with the highest success rate, using at least a third of his stamina.

The night-elf before him was slowly turning away from the shadowy existence into something more regular, a sign of fatigue and the chance Quill needed to catch them. He flashed in their direction.

The one before him, most likely crucial for the current mission given by his Master, was also a key to the current oddness inside the underworld. The number of night-elves increased, and while their presence was neither good nor bad, Quill needed to know what they were doing here, as their stay was simply bizarre.

Like nature-dwellers, they usually hated uninhabitable and harsh places like Moorgrel, especially the East. While the latter group became more common in the city due to Green, the Lord, and Alexander trying their best to get them through schemes and incentives to make them stay here, the former group differed. Night-elves were isolating themselves as much as possible, only being in the alliance with Mal-Gil due to protection, mainly dealing with central Mal-Gil. There was no reason for them to stay in this Outer Circle.

However, Quill now had a good chance to catch one and ask them what they were doing here besides accomplishing his primary mission, 'Hm... should've brought more poison...' He pulled out his dagger as he appeared behind the already tired night-elf, who was barely able to breathe steadily, '...gruesome, but amputating their feet should be a good substitute.'

As he stood behind them for less than a second, another arrow suddenly strived his face, with him barely avoiding it, bending his back slightly, "Urgh! Not nice!" With him in a weird position, he analyzed thousands of possible moves and outcomes, concluding a dozen results where he would avoid becoming a shashlik and counterattacking successfully.

He chose a path again, sacrificing another good chunk of his stamina. Quill threw a knife laced with a thin layer of energy and mana at the night-elf before him, who was about to turn around, trying to avoid the predictable counterattack. However, the elf was too slow to dodge, as the knife was right before his shoulder. Fortunately, his friend was quick on the uptake, shooting at the knife, which flew against the wall and bounced up.

'Yes, that's it!'

Quill's smile widened. He expected this to happen exactly like that, even though it was very slightly off. Since he had learned magic, all the possibilities while fighting became overwhelming, so he needed to change how he approached his heuristical skill, which told him the possibility of the actions he imagined he could do.

As such, when he learned his first spells, he couldn't believe how much utility they gave. Even though he didn't have the power output like his Master, he decided to become versatile, combining them with his close combat abilities. While not as strong as Maurice, since they had very different fighting styles, the spells and capacity with which he could do the calculations to create the constructs were far above average.

The best demonstration of his creativity with the spells was his current fight. As the knife bounced away, the mana suddenly lit up, activating a time-delayed spell that made air slowly conjugate at the end of the hilt.

It was the propulsion spell. Usually, when mana was distributed too unevenly on the construct, only partly filling the nodes while overloading the connectivity lines between them, the mana would, when the construct was simple enough, regulate itself after a certain amount of time, basically making the faulty construct work. This had apparent drawbacks since the mana became less, with the power output decreasing every moment as it dispersed into the air.

Sure, one could control their mana and create a construct from far away, but it was mostly only possible for Alexander. On the other hand, Quill's mind began to burn like a thousand suns when he tried it. Holding his mana together further away became massively strenuous after some meters (1m ~ 3.2ft).

Regardless of the drawbacks, his explicit intention was to create a much weaker but time-delayed spell. As the spell fully activated on the knife, as Quill calculated, it flew toward the elf's ankle, drilling itself inside and getting stuck there.

She screamed, losing the skill that had made her disguise her voice and letting the shadowy mist around her disperse fully, "Argh! The Animal got me!"

Seeing this, Quill straightened up and jumped immediately on the wall, building a construct on the sole of his shoes. It was a spell called glue that, like the name suggested, would let two distinctive parts of the construct stick together through the mana.

Like before, he made it activate only for a moment so he could stand on the wall steadfastly, flash, land again, and repeat. He would get stuck on the wall if he let it stay activated.

He felt tremendous excitement when he took his first step on the wall, flashing forward and standing again. Magic was like a puzzle piece that he didn't know he needed in his life. It complemented him so greatly; it was ridiculous to him why dragon-kin, the ones who usually used magic, weren't like him, also training their body.

Looking upwards toward his other opponent, ignoring the injured one since she wouldn't be able to flee from him, he heard something he wasn't expecting, ruining his plan, "Whaz goin' on 'ere?!"

Someone came out of the back entrance from one of the shops, looked around, and screamed at them, probably thinking they were some kits doing dumb stuff. Quill didn't look back, only hoping nobody of them would attack the innocent passerby, 'Come on. Attack me...'

Even before he could hope for a miracle, the injured night-elf used her weird shadowy energy, or what was left, to shoot toward the unexpected passerby. It was weak since she was tired and had barely any stamina left, but it was enough to injure a non-fighter seriously or even kill them.

Usually, Quill would ignore it and go for the night-elf on the roof. Seeing into their eyes, he was close to getting them. With fear and tension filling their every move, he was sure to get them. Yet, his Master would never sacrifice someone innocent, and as such, he shouldn't either, "Fuck!"

He dissolved all the constructs, pressing himself against the wall and jumping in the line of the flying energy. Using flash, he appeared almost instantly before it, blocking it.

Standing before the shopkeeper who fell on his ass, screaming profanities, being obviously in shock, Quill tried to orient himself. With his plan gone and him jumping off and wasting a good chunk of his stamina and mana, the risk increased for him to continue, but his answer to stop came shortly.

His instinct was screaming at him, loudly and profoundly, making him use his [Mystic Skill], which delayed the injury, making him experience it over a week, with overall more damage. Looking to the side, he saw a giant mass of energy in an arrow shape right before his face. It was a death sentence if he didn't have his life-saving skills.

The moment it touched him, it disappeared, with Quill counting down the seconds when the pain would start, 'This little bitch...' Looking toward the roof, he could see the night-elf clearly shocked, quickly turning around and disappearing from his sight and [Mana Sense] in a matter of seconds.

Quill frowned, feeling that his fighting style needed to change if he wanted to successfully fight opponents from far away. Usually, typical [Mystic Skills] for assassin fighters were quite helpful in such situations. They could appear right behind their victim or run through shadows like those night-elves.

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However, Quill was a great all-rounder with extreme versatility regarding single opponents. If more variables appeared, his mind would burn down as the calculations would be too much, making him no better than any other decent fighter.

He sighed, scratching his head, and walked toward the night-elf, ignoring the shopkeeper, 'I better get some break and bonus after this.'

Looking at her sitting on the ground, the hate in her eyes was saying a lot, and combining it with the slur she used before; it became apparent that she didn't like his race a lot. Besides that, she lost a good amount of blood, barely able to stay awake, as seen by the giant red puddle under her.

Standing before her, she was about to say something, but Quill kicked her solar plexus, making her fall to the side, barely breathing. With another kick against her head, he knocked her out for good, 'Time to do some work...'

Quill pulled out multiple healing potions and his dagger, 'Her feet should be fine for now...' Like that, the gruesome scene started, with the shopkeeper watching it and adding to the pungent smell inside the alley. However, he didn't know that half the potions were for the rabbit boy who was about to experience a lot of pain in some seconds, '...two weeks... I need two weeks of vacati...'

His thoughts were interrupted as his [Mystic Skill] aftermath showed itself, turning his insides upside down and giving him a thunderclap headache, '...urgh... four weeks...'

...

An Hour later, On The Way To The Prison, Copper House

"I won the bet, haha!"

"Mr. Alexander, we don't know if it is serious. It could be just some passerby trying to rob Quill."

While walking, Alexander looked at Otto weirdly, "Are you serious? We are talking about night-elf assassins..." The clerk who notified them, showing them the way, cleared her throat, "...Ahem! By all respect, I said suspicious night-elf."

Alexander looked at her blankly and back at Otto, pointing at her, "See? What occupation is suspicious? Assassins are, and when do they kill others? At night, when night-elves are out and about! So, night-elf assassin is quite fitting, right?"

Otto looked at Alexander dumbfounded, only to barely hold his laughter, "Mr. Alexander...hmpf..." Barely holding it back, "...you know that night-elves are called like that not because they are creatures of the night, right?"

Alexander looked blankly at him, confused, "Right... they are called night-elves because..." It was weirdly silent until Otto answered him, sounding cheeky, "...because they have darker skin and worship the moo..." Alexander interrupted him, finishing the sentence, "...worshiping the moon. I know this..." Waving at him in dismissal, "...obviously!"

"Moons, Mr. Alexander."

"Yeah... that's what I said... moons."

"Of course, Mr. Alexander."

While they were walking, it was eerily silent until Alexander broke it, giving up his charade, "Okay! I have no idea about other races... I only know their languages."

Otto chuckled, "I know, the clerk knows, and your guardian also knows, and I guess your honorable teacher knows this too well..." He started to speak more quietly, "...may I ask how well your [Culture] knowledge is?"

Alexander rolled his eyes, "You know that I have a verified [Absolute Intermediate Law] skill? Do you really think my other skills are so low?"

Otto asked him again, "So? Around level 20, I would say?"

Alexander gestured half and half, "Give or take."

Otto nodded, "Mr. Alexander, you should really brush up on your cultural and race-based knowledge."

Alexander nodded, "Yeah, maybe after I worked out all the hundreds of other projects I have been running on the side and my societal obligations, then maybe I looked into why djinns are divided into dozens of stupid groups and why night-elves have a taint even though they come out only at night."

Otto chuckled but stopped quickly, not wanting to be rude, "Night-elves are not creatures of the night, as I mentioned before..." The clerk cleared her throat, looking back at them, visibly annoyed but still respectful, interrupting them, "...my dear and honorable judges, I would appreciate it if you didn't talk like that about my race."

Alexander tilted his head, "Are you a night-elf? You look quite reddish, though."

Otto laughed out loud while the clerk forced a smile, "I am a fire-djinn, Mr. Alexander."

Alexander looked at her, interested, "Oh, and what is the difference between a fire-djinn and those others? I only know about the differences for beast-kin... somewhat."

Beast-kin were too diverse, so learning about them was already challenging enough. As such, he ignored all other races altogether. Alexander needed to remember most sub-racial traits and flavors of sub-societal structures since most groups had their own way of living. If he wanted to rule a fief in the future, which was as diverse as theirs, he needed to know all of them.

Because of this embarrassing knowledge gap, he was happy to listen to a djinn who was not born in Moorgrel and learn about their culture, sub-races, societal structure, etc. He only knew they had some skirmishes in the south with specific groups of djinns on some islands.

The clerk nodded, looking more happily, "Oh, of course, I would love to explain this to you, Mr. Alexander, but it really comes down to only one thing if we talk about the differences between us djinns."

Alexander tilted his head, confused, "And what is it?"

Her smile widened, "Fire-djinns are simply superior to other djinns."

Alexander raised his eyebrows, nodding, "I... see..." He wanted her to end the rather racist rant before it began, knowing exactly where it would go as he listened to those too many times on Earth. However, he stopped himself, thinking he should rather listen and analyze how other races feel about their own kin. While not immediately valuable, he could get some worthwhile information from it.

She continued, becoming more excited as he looked at her, interested, "Mr. Alexander, you need to know that fire-djinns have a natural resistance against the harshest environments, and that's why we are naturally allied with you, dear Moorgrelians or..." She smiled at him cheekily, "... as you said in one of your speeches, we are better than those weaklings from central Mal-Gil..." She chuckled, "...I quite like listening to you, and I really look forward to the next time."

Alexander smiled at her, slightly nervous, "Oh... that's great..."

The clerk continued joyfully, "However, there are many other djinn races, and while some are quite acceptable to deal with, like earth, magma, and our other younger siblings, there are also those like..." She sounded disgusted, "...like water, ice, or... well, wind, too, but they found their place."

"What does that mean they found their place?"

The clerk nodded happily, "You see, hundreds or so years ago, they were betrayed by an even more inferior kin and sent to Kratikal to rot..." She chuckled, gesturing like she waved a fly away, "...hopefully, they died off, as nobody needed them in the first place."

Alexander was baffled by the hatred toward her race but calmed quickly down, ignoring the wind-djinn's fate since it was nothing new. Many sapient races went extinct in history, with only stories left of them. Be it war, famine, being bred away, or natural disasters. This world was far more ruthless than Earth, and caring for every sub-race perishing would be too much and a waste of time, especially for someone who had no real power in the first place.

"I understand..." He tapped his chin, having more questions, "...Did you have any fights with those other djinn races in our territory?"

The clerk chuckled, shaking her head, "Of course not! As you may not know, we are allied with the honorable Count and both in war against those lessers."

Alexander nodded, "I see... and we obviously don't let them into our territory like humans and other folks."

The clerk clapped her hands, "Yes! Fortunately, they didn't understand how great it was to ally with you; they only wanted to fight for some petty islands."

Alexander tilted his head slightly, askingly, "Hm, you say with the Count and us, but what about central Mal-Gil?"

She shook her head, sounding somber, "We don't have any dealings with them..." shrugging, "...and why should we, though? They are too far away in the first place and strategically irrelevant."

"I see..." He smiled at her, wanting to know the difference between her territory and his family's fief, "...say, do you like Moorgrel? Be honest."

The clerk smiled at Alexander joyfully, "Hm, Mr. Alexander, Moorgrel is really a great place for everyone to come and become what they strive for, overcoming the harshest of environments. As you said in one of your speeches, we are all Leonandrians as long we live here, and I feel proud to be a fire-djinn while being called one of your subjects..."

Alexander interrupted her, panicking a little, "One second! What about your territory? I obviously accept you and feel great to have such a fantastic person here, whatever the race, but isn't it a betrayal?"

She shook her head, looking a little crushed, "Sadly not, Mr. Alexander. Where I come from, we don't have the same sense of belonging you try to create so greatly..." However, she became suddenly incredibly proud, straightening up, "...let me please say that it is an honor to share the knowledge of my race with such an intelligent child of the honorable Lord and Lady. So..."

Alexander was first confused as to why she stopped but suddenly saw a door in front of him, with her walking a little quicker, opening it for him, "Mr. Alexander..." She looked at Otto, "...my honorable judge Otto M. Melodias."

He looked at her amicably, trying to fake it; even though he was a little uncomfortable with how she thought, having a first insight was helpful into how fire-djinns think. He only needed to check later with others to see if this was the general opinion in their territory. As such, he thanked her, "I am grateful for sharing your knowledge and experience with me..." He tilted his head, confused, "...may I know your name?"

She nodded happily, "I am Helena Ilsa Irida, and my half-sister works here at the Golden Feater Bank. We both decided to live here to experience other cultures, learn languages, and see how other territories function."

Alexander nodded at her, "I see..." he rubbed his chin, thinking that he would need her to explain a couple of things to him, "...are you interested in having dinner together and telling me a little more about the cultures of your race?"

It was necessary for him to learn about other races, and since no internet or good literature existed about them, he thought about asking her. Of course, he knew that she would distort many facts, but it would nonetheless be helpful. On the other hand, he couldn't care less about the misinformation since the Moorgrelians were apparently at war with some djinns and allied with the fire ones. As such, he could ignore her diminishing those others and trying to read between the lines.

Also, since Anastasia had no time because she tried to coordinate the teachers, first school buildings, and the lesson plan, they had lessons, at most, thrice a week, mainly focusing on politics. Still, he would send her a summary of Helena's information, which she could confirm or reject.

She bowed excitedly, "Of course, Mr. Alexander! Nothing would make me happier than telling you about my people and culture while warning you of those lessers!"

Alexander looked at her nervously, forcing a smile, "Sure..."