Chapter 171 - Old Friends, An Extraordinary Magician
Several months before the outbreak of the war between Milis and the Iron Legion, far from the battlefield, on the Demon Continent, more precisely in the province of Varmorik, a solitary figure walked with calm steps through the hostile landscape.
She was an elf. Her long golden hair shimmered even under the gloomy gray of the demonic sky. Her blue eyes, clear as ice, contrasted with the environment around her.
The province of Varmorik was a desolate land, marked by deep valleys and black, jagged mountains.
The constant winds carried a dry scent of iron and sulfur, and the clouds seemed never to dissipate.
Vegetation was rare, and the ground creaked beneath her feet like parched bones. Black rocks rose on all sides like the teeth of a sleeping beast.
The elf wore a dark wine-colored mage's cloak with silver details, beneath which part of a reinforced leather armor could be seen.
On her back, she carried a quiver and an intricately carved elven bow, and in her hand, a wooden staff topped with a red magical gem.
The aura she exuded was peaceful, almost gentle, but also conveyed the firmness of one who had crossed battles and eras.
In the distance, at the foot of a rocky plateau, rose a castle-city protected by high walls and watchtowers. It was the capital of the province of Varmorik, the most populous and secure city in that region.
"Excuse me!" the elf shouted as she approached the main gate.
One of the guards—a demon with red skin, yellow eyes, and two horns curved backward—awoke startled from his nap. He hastily grabbed his sword, looking toward the lone figure.