With the proud demeanor exhibited by this elf, it is quite challenging to utter such a commendation.

"Hmm?"

Afvla was pondering the information from the meeting just now, and upon hearing the praise, she merely emitted a perplexed syllable.

"Just a few months ago, I consistently believed that humans born of the Black Iron race were feeble and powerless. Even if they became warriors or learned magic, they were destined to be incomparable to elves," Yulier declared.

"That's not entirely wrong. Compared to the innate powerful abilities of the Golden race or the talents of the Silver and Bronze races, humans do indeed appear very fragile," Afvla remarked.

This theory, which categorizes races into four major levels—Golden, Silver, Bronze, and Black Iron—originated from an era that is unknown but has gained widespread acceptance.

Typically, the Golden race refers to ancient dragons, demon lords, elf royal families, or beings naturally endowed with immense power. The Silver race includes higher-level demons, angels, elves, or elemental descendants, while the Bronze race consists of deep-sea merfolk, centaurs, and dwarves.

Humans, inherently weak, belong to the Black Iron race.

Although racial talents cannot absolutely represent everyone, they do account for ninety-nine percent of the population. Perhaps there are geniuses who can transcend racial limitations, but they are extremely rare.

"But you are a genius, changing my perspective," Yulier praised once more.

As an elf with powerful magical talent and a long lifespan, he never expected a mage of Black Iron descent to jump from the fourth to the sixth level in just a few months—a speed that astounded him.

If this were placed among the Golden race's dragons or radiant angels, such a pace could be considered normal.

Afvla remained silent.

She knew that elves misunderstood something and considered her a prodigy.

In fact, the reason she was able to advance to the sixth level was due to the ceaseless killing that had enhanced her strength day and night over the past few months.

As soon as she stopped, her magical advancement would return to its normal slow pace.

"...So, do you plan to come to the Elven Empire in the future?" Yulier suddenly asked.

Afvla halted.

"The kingdom where our Elven Empire is located is no less than the Bright Kingdom, and the magical civilization is far more prosperous. After returning to my homeland, many magisters will be willing to guide your talents. By then, you will undoubtedly reach the ninth level within twenty years," Yulier urged.

His attitude was more earnest than usual, as if he had lost some of his usual arrogance.

"Why should I immigrate to your benefit?" Afvla asked in confusion.

"As a branch of the imperial royal family, when I encounter talent, I also want to bring it to my own kingdom for cultivation..." Yulier calmly stated, "...The Elven Empire has a sparse population, so it does not reject other races. In our plane, there are also kingdoms and federations established by other races. You won't have to worry about not fitting in there."

"Thank you, but it's unnecessary," Afvla replied.

"Perhaps you don't know that the higher a mage's level, the more difficult it is to advance. Even if you can rely on your talent to advance now, you will inevitably need guidance from a mentor when you reach higher levels... or do you already have a mentor?" Yulier inquired.

"I do, but my reason for not going to the Elven Empire is not because of this..." Afvla closed her eyes and calmly stated, "...I have something that must be done, and I must stay in my homeland."

"You'd better think about it again. For a mage, nothing is more important than magic. In this regard, the Bright Kingdom, which worships the gods, cannot be compared to my homeland," Yulier continued to persuade.

Afvla remained silent, her azure eyes quietly staring at him.

Looking at the elf in the dim night, they locked eyes for a moment, and Yulier sighed disappointedly.

"It seems I cannot change your mind," Yulier said.

"If there is a chance in the future, I will go to the Elven Empire," Afvla said.

"I would prefer you to go now. If you change your mind one day, take this with you," Yulier said.

He took out a palm-sized red maple leaf. The leaf showed no signs of withering, looking as if it had just been plucked from a large tree, adorned with elegant and flowing characters written in a peculiar language.

Afvla reached out and took it, placing the leaf into her storage space.

Although she had little chance to use it.

When the elves left, after challenging a centaur with a bow and arrow, Afvla saw the silver-haired youth again.

It was the time when night met dawn. Except for the soldiers responsible for guarding, most of the deep green tents stationed here had no lights. Faint snores could be heard inside. The silver-haired youth, in a white robe, stood alone not far from the tents on the cliff.

Not far away, thieves and the few civilians they brought back gathered together. In the middle of them, a bright burning bonfire illuminated their faces. They held a few bottles of wheat beer, murmuring curses against the demon expeditionary army and the Radiant Church. Faint cries and sobbing could be heard.

Underneath the feet of the civilians, a large patch of man-eating grass had turned into a pile of white ashes at some point.

The wind blew, leaving no trace.

Afvla walked to the side of the youth, standing on the cliff together.

She was very sure that if the curses could reach her ears, then the person beside her could hear them clearly.

"Long time no see... They are cursing the Light God and the Radiant Church. Sir, as a high-ranking member of the church, why aren't you angry?" Afvla asked.

"Most people in the world, when faced with insurmountable suffering, react like this—shifting blame, harboring resentment, or cowardly evading. It happens everywhere, eternally..." The youth turned to look at her, calmly stating, "...Moreover, what they have encountered is the tragedy of losing their homes and the brink of life and death. Remaining calm and forgiving would be strange. If I were to be upset about these matters every day, that would be too exhausting."

Afvla couldn't help but laugh, saying lightly, "So, you helped them burn the man-eating grass with holy fire just because you were displeased with a few words of resentment?"

"A few words of resentment indeed make me unhappy, but not to the point of watching those people die," the youth said.

"What are you looking at?" Afvla asked.

"I'm looking at the upcoming war. The cracks in the dimensional crystal wall have already opened, and the demon army continuously enters from there. The Goddess of Dawn is also about to break through the seal, coming with resentment for revenge. Soon, war is going to happen," the silver-haired youth said.

The world in the eyes of the gods is naturally different from that of humans.