Chapter 632: Assassin's Creed Spreading Among the Elves

At this moment, the grand plaza of White Creek City fell into a breathless, dead silence.

Every elf present stared at the scene, utterly dazed.

"Where in life do you find so much time to spend slinking around in stealth?"

"What good is stealth anyway? Don't you just get caught in the end?"

The crowd pondered the meaning behind those words, their faces masks of pure, unadulterated bewilderment.

Saint Heinz and Saint Duran stared at each other, their expressions entirely vacant.

What in the world?!

Elder Cyvi came to her senses first: "It seems... to make a bit of sense?"

"Ah... it really does seem to make a whole lot of sense..." A wave of nodding rippled through the elves across the plaza.

And besides... how on earth could an assassin play with such overwhelming, tyrannical bravado?! Hadn't they heard people say these human assassins were nothing but a pack of wretched, backstabbing cowards? This completely defied that reputation!

How could this elf learn just a few basics and end up looking so incredibly cool?!

A crowd of onlookers watched on, tears streaming down their faces.

Meanwhile, Luther’s countenance shifted through a turbulent storm of emotions.

Where did this even come from?! How could someone just charge in, sword held high, hacking away from the periphery straight to the center, wiping everyone out one by one until nobody was left?

And then tell me *this* is called an assassination?!

"No! This is not an assassination!" Luther bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Our... our mystic realm was designed to guard against assassins!"

"How is it not an assassination?" Sera huffed. "Would Mr. Luther mind checking if there's anyone left alive in the mystic realm to discover that I was the one who killed them?"

"..." Luther’s face turned entirely black.

Luther felt his head spin, utterly dazed.

It seemed he couldn't even find a way to argue back?! Truly, no one had seen it happen! Wasn't an assassination only called an assassination precisely because nobody was left alive to witness it?

"The mystic realm brought by Your Excellency Luther has indeed allowed us to witness the formidable alchemical craftsmanship of the 'Duran Workshop'." Elder Cyvi smiled elegantly, her tone shifting sharply. "But I believe the 'Duran Workshop's' mystic realm, as everyone has just seen, unfortunately still harbors significant flaws."

"Our elven race has never before introduced an outside cultivation mystic realm," Elder Cyvi continued. "Therefore, this time, we must proceed with absolute caution. Over the next few days, I will gather the opinions of the citizens of White Creek City, and at the same time, I will deliberate on this matter with the Council of Elders. A final result will be reached very soon."

"I believe we will be fair, but we only accept things of genuine excellence. A mystic realm with such fatal flaws brought by Your Excellency Luther... I am afraid the prospects are bleak."

This final sentence was a thinly veiled, polite rejection.

In days gone by, the elves had forged friendships with other races, yet they had also suffered countless wounds; they treated every outsider with careful scrutiny, granting true friends the hospitality they deserved.

Their caution was born from the harsh lessons of history, for after all, not every race cherished peace as dearly as they did.

"..." Although he had already anticipated such an outcome, Luther’s face still darkened heavily.

He could not fathom what had gone wrong.

And at that moment, Saint Heinz had completely cut off the spell projection.

He had never imagined that a plan which was supposed to be a simple key to unlock the borders of the elven kingdom would encounter such an unforeseen disaster.

Faltering at the very first step meant that his subsequent chest full of perfect, brilliant strategies could hardly be deployed at all!

He clenched his fists tightly, a golden light seeming to bloom from his hands like a fierce, roaring flame of righteous fury, causing the entire grand hall to tremble under the weight of his wrath.

"Your Excellency, what shall we do next?" Saint Duran, the white-haired elder, asked in a deep, heavy voice.

Heinz pondered for a long moment, a contemplative look crossing his divine, radiantly holy countenance. "This particular move on the chessboard can no longer be played, but we must investigate exactly how this anomaly came to pass."

"Tell Luther to scurry back and handle it," he paused, then added, "Furthermore... I will enter a period of secluded meditation. If fortune favors us, I may receive enlightenment from that supreme, topmost existence, who will guide our next steps."

"May Your Excellency be blessed with the holy revelation," Saint Duran said, bowing low.

...

"I believe we must take our leave!" Luther’s plump face was so dark it looked as though ice could be scraped from it.

"Won't you stay a few days longer?"

"No need, thank you." Luther practically flung his sleeves and stormed off on the spot.

Watching those temple knights return crestfallen after arriving with their heads held so high, Sera couldn't help but leap for joy.

Meanwhile, Elder Cyvi also breathed a sigh of relief; in truth, from the moment more and more elves began to gather, she realized the situation was spiraling out of control.

Yet even then, she maintained absolute faith in the craftsmanship of the elven race.

As for the result of that boundless confidence, it had just been laid bare for all to see.

If he had truly succeeded, it might have dealt a catastrophic blow to the elven race's own mystic realm industry very shortly.

And if they had still chosen to forcibly expel him under those circumstances...

Going back on their word was clearly an act unbefitting of their people.

She could faintly sense that the other party harbored hidden motives, and though she knew not what they were, it was fortunate the matter had been properly resolved.

The perceptive elves seemed to feel a lingering haze of mist dissolve into nothingness, and the heavy atmosphere that hung over the plaza gradually returned to its usual tranquil, serene state.

The elegant strains of a harp echoed across the square.

"Everything is fine now, friends!"

"How on earth did she do it!?"

"What is it, Elder Cyvi?" Sera asked, her hands clasped behind her back as she looked curiously at the beautiful woman, who was actually examining her with a face full of doubts.

"How is it that after taking one trip outside, you seem completely different?" Elder Cyvi looked her up and down, as if verifying whether this was truly the little elf she had watched grow up since childhood.

"Oh? Did I grow taller?" Sera giggled mischievously.

"You did not!"

"Uh..."

"By the way, those two masters you mentioned earlier, Master Altaïr, Master Ezio..." Elder Cyvi said, "Do humans truly possess such formidable master assassins?"

To think such assassins actually existed?!

Elder Cyvi looked thoroughly astonished.

Not only her, but the other elves were clearly burning with curiosity about this as well.

"And..." Elder Cyvi asked again, "When you deflected that Wind Howl Slash, how exactly did you manage it?"

Afterward, the opponent stood there as if utterly stupefied, allowing himself to be killed; it was simply unbelievable.

"That was a parry and counter, utilizing a kind of deflecting force."

"Did those two masters teach you that as well?"

We are masters ourselves, so how is it we never knew such an absurd maneuver existed?

Evidently, though they were all called masters, in different worlds, the caliber was entirely distinct.

"Could you tell us a bit more about it..."

"That is a long story, a tale about a creed of freedom..." Sera said triumphantly, "Elder Cyvi, would you like to listen?"

"Uh..." Elder Cyvi stared blankly for a moment. She used to tell stories to this girl when she was little, so why did it feel like something was slightly amiss now?

Before long, Sera began to recount the tale of Assassin's Creed, starting with Altaïr.

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