Accidental Elf: My Passive Allure is Ruining My Plans

The commotion caused by finding the rare weapon was, in Alaster’s eyes, a bit over the top. Even so, he pushed himself up from the wooden crate serving as his seat and walked over to the thief.

«I should probably congratulate her... Plus, keeping a solid relationship with her works in my favor. This gesture alone should earn me a few brownie points,» the mage thought as he closed the short five-step distance separating him from the group.

"Congratulations!" the elf said.

The atmosphere was practically buzzing with good cheer. The lingering aroma of grilled meat hung in the air, everyone was well-fed, and the overall mood was at an all-time high. Berona was easily the most ecstatic, closely followed by Alaster himself, who had just acquired a new spell completely outside his usual repertoire.

For the moment, though, the elf had other questions on his mind.

The thief turned toward him with a wide, beaming smile.

"Thank you! Thank you so much! You brought me insane luck, Al!"

Alaster offered a polite smile while reflecting silently: «I just hope she doesn't forget who handed her the item... Though the whole luck thing is an interesting topic. Ever since I arrived, my luck stat hasn't gone up a single point; it's completely stuck at ninety-nine. What exactly do they mean when they talk about luck? An amulet, or the actual stat on the interface?»

"When you guys mention luck..." Alaster asked the group, "are you talking about an amulet or the stat itself?"

Remis glanced sideways at him, her eyes barely leaving the dagger Berona was holding like a holy relic.

"Guess it makes sense you wouldn't know," the leader remarked.

She turned fully toward Alaster and took a step forward, tilting her head slightly upward to hold his gaze.

"I'll clear a few things up for you while we let our food settle. Come on, sit with me, elf," she said, flicking her chin toward the wooden crates.

The blonde sat down in the spot previously occupied by Elise, and Alaster settled right back into his original seat.

"Alright... To answer your question: luck isn't something anyone bothers explaining simply because it doesn't change over time or with level ups. It's a fixed number set at birth." Remis paused, sweeping her gaze over the surrounding camp before continuing. "The average person sits at around twenty points. That stat determines the probability of the gods favoring you with a gift. Think of it as divine grace—if you hold their favor, you get better rewards."

The leader crossed one of her long legs over the other and began swaying her foot thoughtfully. Elise didn't hesitate to join in, pulling up a crate on the other side of Alaster.

"Remis, you're forgetting how it works in parties," the young archer piped up.

"Ah, right! Good catch, kid..." the leader admitted.

Elise gave a smug little smirk as Remis carried on:

"When a party forms, your overall luck is calculated by adding up everyone's stats. That's why having someone lucky helps the entire group draw more cards. Proximity to enemies when they die and who lands the final blow also play a part."

Elise grabbed Alaster’s arm enthusiastically, giving it a gentle shake.

"Al, that's why you pulled so many cards!"

"Right, I'm starting to get it," the mage replied, giving her a patient smile in response to her high energy.

"You must have insane luck," Remis continued. "We never get this much loot. Usually, it's just goblin bread and, if we're lucky, a few arrows for Elise. But this time we walked away loaded with projectiles, more than enough bread, and a decent pile of daggers. The only new variable in the group is a certain elven mage."

"Yeah," Elise added, still clinging to Alaster’s arm with an even wider grin. "You must have around sixty points in luck to pull off a haul like this."

Alaster felt a subtle ping of nervousness. «If twenty is normal... my ninety-nine must be completely absurd. Then again, LessFeruz and Arya never acted surprised by it, so maybe it's not totally unheard of. Best to just ask directly.»

"So, Remis," Alaster said, watching the leader slowly push herself to her feet, clearly feeling the weight of the heavy lunch, "one last question."

The warrior turned around to face him from a short distance away.

"Ask away. Better to get everything clear," the blonde replied with a smile.

Despite giving off the casual vibe of a tall farm girl, Remis was undeniably attractive: long legs, an imposing build, sun-golden hair, and striking light brown eyes.

"Is a luck stat of sixty or higher really that rare?"

"Hmm... Not really. My sister has eighty-two and pulls quite a lot of rewards, so it's not totally crazy," Remis answered, turning on her heel to leave. "We need to get moving. Better to make progress before night falls and we have to set up camp."

Alaster watched the leader walk away. Her stride was a far cry from the delicate grace of Mila or the cheerful bounce of Jinneth and Elise; she walked with long, heavy, deliberate steps. «She steps with more authority than Tagard himself,» the mage thought. «Though you have to admit she has a certain presence... A leader's charm. Charisma, maybe?»

The elf shook his head to clear away thoughts of the warrior and headed toward the villagers' wagons to check on the rescued refugees.

With Elise tailing close behind, he reached the circle of wagons guarded by a few tired-looking men. Remis and Syrus were already in deep conversation with a group of anxious villagers.

"I know you've already done so much for us," an older man was saying as Alaster approached. "But if you could escort us, the women and children would feel much safer."

It was the same man who had defended the convoy earlier—the one whose daughter was among those rescued from the goblin camp.

"Master Pernak, we have an assignment to fulfill. We can't deviate from our route to escort you to your destination," Remis explained firmly.

"Besides, every hour we waste puts lives at risk. Our current job is a suppression quest," Syrus added.

Pernak let out a heavy sigh. He looked ready to object, but he had no real arguments left beyond appealing to their sympathy, fully aware that being rescued at all was already a miracle.

Alaster made his way through the crowd of exhausted women until he stood beside his companions.

"What's going on?" the mage asked softly.

"The caravan leader wants us to escort them for safety, but we were just explaining that we can't," Syrus clarified, his eyes drifting toward a woman cradling a young child. Turning them down clearly weighed on the tank.

"Where are you heading?" the elf inquired.

"To Toel," the old man answered.

Alaster let out a subtle, amused smirk.

"Well, you should have led with that..." he muttered, looking at Remis and Syrus, who both shook their heads with disbelieving chuckles.

Pernak, thoroughly confused, shifted his weight from one foot to the other before adding:

"I know you're heading further north, likely toward the port, but in Toel, you would be a massive help. Especially Your Grace—a mage is exactly what the town needs right now."

"Because of the golem, right?" Syrus grinned.

Pernak knit his brow in surprise, while Remis explained in a casual tone:

"That's literally where we're going. We have orders to eliminate a sandstone golem plaguing the area."

The old man’s eyes went wide before a look of pure relief washed over his weathered face.

"So... you're coming with us?"

"That's the plan," Remis nodded.

A murmur of relief spread through the villagers, who began retreating to their wagons with renewed spirits. Alaster turned to head back to his team's wagon when Pernak’s respectful voice called out again.

"Your Grace! Forgive me! I don't mean to pry, but... are you the mage sent to handle the golem?"

The elf turned back around.

"You can drop the formal titles, I'm really not comfortable with them. And yes, I took the request at the guild and assembled this team to neutralize the threat," he said, conveniently leaving out the part where he had put off the mission for days just to study his grimoires.

"I see... It's just that I'm amazed by the guild's speed. Requests requiring a magic user usually take at least a week to process, but this took barely a few days. Even after organizing our return to Toel with a few travelers, I didn't expect help so soon."

Alaster raised an eyebrow, not fully catching the implication behind the man's words. Syrus stepped up from behind, throwing a heavy arm over the mage's shoulders in a friendly gesture.

"Al's as reliable as they come. Honestly, saving your daughter was a success thanks to his magic. He single-handedly cleared the camp and flattened the goblin chieftain. I didn't witness it directly, but the girls swear he turned him to ash with a Fireball like it was nothing."

Pernak’s eyes widened in sheer shock.

"Is that true? I thought my daughter was exaggerating when she said the explosions sent monsters flying through the air."

"Well, something like that," Alaster replied, trying not to sound boastful. "Though I'm not sure if a golem will prove trickier than a goblin chieftain."

"The issue isn't just its raw strength," the caravan leader explained with a shake of his head. "Physical weapons don't deal lasting damage to it; it regenerates using the surrounding sand before blade cuts can take effect. If not for that, the local hunters would have taken it down long ago. Over thirty of us went to face it, and half came back severely wounded, while the creature healed instantly. To make matters worse, it's guarded by several lesser golems."

"Don't worry," Syrus chimed in with complete confidence. "Our friend here has destructive power to spare. We just need to draw its attention and let him do the heavy lifting."

Alaster shot him a playful side-eye.

"What's with you? Trying to hunt for a rare shield or something?"

The tank pulled his arm off the mage's shoulders and put on a dramatically offended expression.

"Is that really how you see me? I'm not a greedy guy! I'd settle for an enhanced shield... or an excellent one at best."

The elf snorted, giving him a gentle shove.

"You better go pack your stuff before I accidentally misfire a Fireball."

The tank walked off laughing toward his post. Alaster turned back to Pernak with a polite smile.

"I hope your daughter recovers quickly."

"Thank you very much. She wanted to thank you in person, but her shyness got the better of her."

"Not much to see, really—just your average, everyday elf," Alaster remarked before stepping around one of the wagons.

The old man watched the mage’s retreating back, muttering to himself that if that was an average elf, he must be a hornless giant.

The rest of the afternoon journey was a bumpy mess thanks to the rough dirt road. Around five-thirty, Remis and Pernak called a halt simultaneously.

"We'll call it a day here," the leader announced from the driver's seat, with Syrus beside her holding the reins.

Inside the wagon, Alaster was holding the grimoire [Summoning: Armored Sil-Spider]. He had tried reading through its pages during the ride, enduring a bit of motion sickness from the constant bouncing. It was a C-Rank, Common-tier spell.

The invocation held considerable potential, though it came with heavy restrictions: the ritual required a lengthy setup time and a cost of 700 mana points per creature—an impossible figure for him at the moment due to the 450-point mana limit enforced by his ring.

Still, the perks were obvious. Once summoned, the creature didn't drain mana continuously and remained active indefinitely, obeying the mage's orders as long as he maintained mental control over it.

«I could build an army if my brain could handle the strain,» Alaster thought before grounding his expectations.

The description detailed a spider covered in metallic plates, capable of firing magical needles and sustained by ambient mana or magic crystals. «Its combat level equals a level five warrior, but its efficiency is insane—it doesn't need food or sleep. Still, not sure if it's worth summoning something so basic.»

As he tucked the book away, he noticed Elise staring intently at him.

"Something on my face?" he asked.

"Nope... Just wondering what color your hair actually is. Are you blonde? A redhead? I bet it's light brown!"

Alaster let out a low chuckle.

"You'll never guess it."

"Give me a hint?" the girl pleaded, hopping down from the vehicle.

The elf climbed down after her, glad for the chance to stretch his legs.

"It's not a common shade, so rule out the usual ones."

Elise rested two fingers against her chin, thinking hard.

"Green?"

"Ice cold," he smiled.

The girl lifted a small hatch at the bottom of the wagon to pull out a tent canvas.

"Red!" she shouted, hoisting the load onto her shoulder.

Alaster immediately took the weight off her to carry it himself, earning a radiant smile in return.

"Getting colder," the mage teased as they walked together.

When they caught up with the others, they found Berona in the middle of a rather bizarre exchange with Tagard.

"Come on, just the tip," the thief pleaded.

"No," the redhead shot back flatly.

"It'll be fast..."

"I said no."

"You won't even feel it!"

"No, Berona!"

Alaster pulled Elise close to his side by her shoulder, adopting a protective stance.

"Better not listen to whatever they're talking about..."

The young girl looked up at him innocently.

"What things?"

Remis walked over, laughing as she caught the scene.

"What's going through that mind of yours, elf?"

"I don't know, but it sounds pretty sketchy."

"Not at all," the leader clarified with a laugh. "Berona's just trying to convince him to let her test the new dagger's stats against his armor... by stabbing him in the back."