The Ultimate Weapon of Magic and Science

"I remain motionless, like a stone."

Maximilian Hubert Tyr muttered silently in his heart, breathing slowly and drawing long breaths. His breath, warmed by his body, filtered through the linen cloth and turned colorless before dissipating into the forest.

The young hunter hid behind a pile of stones, down below, in his line of sight, was an open area covered by un-melted snow. If the snow melted away completely, a small path could be seen.

This was the necessary path to their Elf settlement—Tyr had hardly taken his eyes off this slowly changing target for most of the day, persisting as always in this monotonous task.

In order to provide warnings and give enough time for their people to react, the Elf acted as a sentinel, quietly watching the mission area for any enemy activity.

They were the first line of defense but also likely to be the first casualties of battle.

The technology of using Mana to condense and transmit information had disappeared along with the collapse of the kingdom a thousand years ago. Nowadays, for Elves who cannot manipulate Mana, magic and Mana are synonymous with calamity.

When magic appears before their eyes, killing is likely to follow.

Using fallen treetops, imitating bird calls, lighting signal fires, and firing warning arrows that make a noise—upon discovering enemies, the sentinels would use these methods to warn their people and then retreat into the valley using their familiarity with the terrain. However, on a day shrouded in thick fog like today, only the last method remained, one that would alarm the enemy and put oneself at risk.

Every sentinel knew the risks they faced and understood that they might lose their lives. Even so, they still wanted to do their best to protect their kin behind them.

Even with such strong conviction, some things would not change as long as the spirit remained firm, such as the gap in strength or the natural climate.

It was now early spring, and a recent snowstorm had left melting snow covering the ground. This was the coldest time of the melting season for the watchers, who could not light a fire to keep warm. Wet, chilly air penetrated their clothes and attacked their bodies, the cold stabbing deep into their bones. It would not be surprising if anyone with a weak constitution suffered frostbite or even froze to death.

"I must remind the next shift to prepare blankets and such."

Tyr clenched his teeth and shuddered for a moment, the slight heat generated by the contracting muscles temporarily suppressing the icy numbness that invaded his bones. A sudden warm breath brushed against his ear.

"How's it going, Max? Noticed anything?"

The rough voice, even when lowered, stung Tyr's eardrums. The whisperer's voice, already naturally louder than average, caused an unavoidable buzzing noise as it vibrated near Tyr's ear.

"Apart from your loud voice, Franz, I haven't noticed anything."

Franz Tor scratched his head sheepishly. He and Tyr were cousins, but their relationship was more like actual brothers. Moreover, Franz admired his cousin greatly.

Mature and steady, Tyr was the most outstanding and excellent among the younger generation in the village. The young people looked up to him as their leader, and Tyr's performance matched the respect they showed him.

"Falcon that flew out of the valley."

This was a phrase of praise among several Elf tribes in Argentoratum Pass Province. Elves who had come into contact with the youths of Niflheim Valley passed the title and related anecdotes to other places with envy. Gradually, everyone knew about Tyr.

He tamed wild horses running on the southwestern plains of the valley with his own strength, and once shot down two carrier pigeons released by human spies from the sky with a single arrow.

In short, Tyr was a celebrity—a pride of his people.

"There's still some time before we can rest, so don't let your guard down."

"The next shift will be here soon, I'll be good."

To Tyr's wry warning, Thor responded with a mischievous tongue-out face.

Young Thor still retained some of the innocence and romance befitting his age. Of course, there were also aspects that were incompatible or even exceeded those of his peers.

Such as his stronger and taller physique that surpassed both his younger peers and even some adult Elves.

Thor began walking just three months after he was born. By the time he learned to run, he had already left the other children far behind. When he grew to the height of an adult's waist, few could catch up with him anymore.

At eleven, Thor accompanied his father and other hunters to the depths of the valley for his first hunt. The youngest hunter's first prey was not a small herbivore, but a Snowstorm Bear that had just woken up from hibernation, hungry and emaciated—a dangerous species that even veteran hunters would avoid. The unlucky bear was seeking a meal when its neck was broken in Thor's vice-like hands before it could release its Snowstorm Breath. The bear became a delicious feast for the Elves, along with a fine pelt, and more importantly, it made Thor famous in one fell swoop.

"Bear Hunter."

Although not as well-known as Tyr's nickname, it was still praised by everyone. However, being treated this way caused Thor some distress.

The direction of rumors was difficult to grasp—this well-known side effect had been clearly demonstrated on Thor.