The Ultimate Weapon of Magic and Science

When Emir Friedrichsia was still a snot-nosed child running around in disorder, the village was in a distant forest in the south. The climate was pleasant there, abundant with all sorts of wild vegetables and fruits, and one could often capture tasty little beasts from within the trees. Most importantly, the land was fertile and easy to cultivate. As long as there were no natural disasters, careful tending of the fields would always yield a bountiful harvest each year.

Memories of those times surfaced in Emir's mind. He figured that must have been what heaven was like.

But heaven is illusory. Those peaceful days, those daily joys, were merely mirages constructed on top of sand. The slightest distraction and the hammer of destruction could come crashing down.

On the eve of the harvest festival, adults and children put on new clothes. The old elves looked at the year's yield and could not help but smile, while the young elves hoped to find an ideal dance partner, and the children cheered at the festivity.

Then, the human army stormed into the village without warning. Demons clad in armor and brandishing sharp swords poured in from outside. Flames engulfed the village, shadows moved frantically about, screams, curses, roars, and obscene, vulgar laughter filled the air.

Young elves who took up weapons, unaccustomed to battling, had their heads chopped off;

Women who were pinned to the ground, crying out in anguish, were pierced in the chest;

An elderly villager, hobbling while wielding a crutch in an attempt to repel the soldiers, was split in half;

Children crying and trying to wake their unresponsive parents were pierced through the throat with a sword;

Infants, oblivious in their mother's arms and crying innocently, were impaled in the abdomen by a long spear, their bodies lifted high amidst the demons' laughter;

From hiding in a mountain cave, from between their mother's trembling arms, a sight of hell was seared into Emil's retinas, marked deep within his soul. It was once their home, their village.

A hellish scene that dragged the entire village along with the corpses of the victims and was eventually swallowed up by large fires. Everything turned to ashes, leaving nothing but flat stubbles in the wheat fields that would shimmer gold in the wind. The bare, desolate lands conveyed an unbearable sorrow.

This was Emir's first encounter with the tragic fate of his race. The smell of rust to fill his nostrils, his body shivering like a sieve — it was his "first" time, but certainly not the "last."

The surviving villagers embarked on a journey of exile, seeking new wastelands, undertaking the labor of cultivation. However, each time their lives seemed to improve slightly, the human army appeared like vultures, trailing closely behind. Villagers were slaughtered once more, their harvest and land pillaged again, they lost their homes and had to seek new lands again, thus the vicious cycle of suffering continued.

In the end, fewer than a hundred of their tribe, including middle-aged Emir, moved into the Niflheim Valley, a place human armies were reluctant to approach. It seemed the cycle of misery had finally come to an end.

Only after settling in the valley did the elves realize that nothing had actually changed. Calling their lives in the valley a "living" was an overstatement; "struggling to survive" was a more accurate description.

Years passed under the shroud of dense fog in the Niflheim Valley. Due to limited sunlight, the land was only slightly better than a desert. In the early years of cultivation, the harvest yield was so pitiful that some villagers tragically died from exhaustion or starvation. Emir, and those of his generation, vividly remember a horrifying scene where a companion fell while walking and never got up again.

Aside from the barren lands, a myriad of dangerous creatures lurked in the depths of the valley, occasionally attacking the village. Any elf wishing to farm must do so in a group of at least five adults. Venturing into the valley alone was strictly prohibited due to its dangerous nature.

Despite the harsh, barren conditions, they managed to pull through and even thrive until now.

They acknowledge two reasons for managing this miraculous feat:

Firstly, the Mother Goddess Mafa still harbored some care for their suffering race;

Secondly, their stay in the valley was not permanent. They believed that one day they would leave and settle old scores.

Elves live longer than humans and beasts, and they have a far better memory than those two barbaric and cruel tribes in their eyes,

Why they are in the tragic condition they're currently in, who were the culprits that caused such scenes of horror?

—— The elves knew for certain, the "good deeds" committed by the two tribes are so deeply ingrained that it's hard for multiple generations of elves to forget.

The accumulation of over a thousand years of persecution and slaughter has bred an equally, if not heavier, burden of bitterness. Now, the elves are only allowing anger and resentment to ferment in their hearts. One day, like a volcano, it will burst forth, and they will repay their enemies a thousandfold for the humiliation and persecution inflicted upon them.

Therefore, it's safe to say that either Elder Chieftain Emil or any other elf would never have a good impression of "humans".

When the message that Brynhild, with the assistance of a "peculiar boy," managed to escape their pursuit and was planning to bring back the "scholar" to help mine gold in the valley was relayed back via a trained hunting falcon, the old man's face flushed a frightening crimson.

It wasn't a flush of excitement from happiness but rather a rise in blood pressure due to extreme rage.

At this moment, the long list of crimes committed by humans in the heart of the elder chieftain had a new entry—

They had abducted his most beloved, the most beautiful and lovely, calm and composed, intelligent and brave, generous, and free-spirited granddaughter in the entire village!!!!!

Even though the message claimed she was learning knowledge from the boy, things usually happened this way: common interests and good feelings, followed by mutual respect, and in the end, inseparable love...

The villainous human scum, rotting from head to toe, only covets Brynhild's beauty and the gold mine in the valley. There's no telling what kinds of sweet lies he fed Brynhild, let alone the dirty deceitful tactics he utilized. As long as Old Emir is alive, the scumbag's vile plot would never succeed.

Thinking of taking little Brynhild away from her grandfather? That guy should think again!

Thoughts beyond anger and delusion (?) turned into firm beliefs, the elder chieftain was determined that once his granddaughter returned, he wouldn't let her set foot outside the house again. As for the conniving man that Brynhild had referred to as a "good person"... the only good human is a dead human.

Amid the mess of sudden changes, the elder chieftain overlooked a detail—Brynhild did not specify the race of the boy in her letter.

The plans made by Clan Leader Emil were based on the assumption that the other party was human (the beastman, dwarf, gnome were automatically overlooked due to his picky aesthetics), and without a backup plan if the other party was non-human, should such a situation occur, the chieftain's calculations would crumble.

When Brynhild descended to the clearing in the heart of the village on the back of the Black Dragon, the villagers erupted into roof-raising cheers after a momentary silence. The remaining young villagers sounded horns to call out to the outer companions. Everyone circled the Black Dragon, who had folded its wings and squatted on the ground. If not for awe of the Dragon Clan, they would have rushed up to toss around their legendary village girl.

Emil watched his granddaughter, powerful and majestic atop the dragon's back. He could hardly hide his disbelief and shock. As an elderly elf, his threshold for sudden happiness was rather low.

All issues were seemingly resolved. Wisdom of the Dragon Clan—an excellent "ancient species," a "holy existence," was extremely rare. Such a grand achievement could not be overstated, to be able to bring one of them back to the village.

The strength, wealth, and wisdom of the dragon meant rays of hope in the dire situation for their hamlet. Most importantly—despite Black Dragon's enormous size, it was still a child in the dragon's long lifespan. There was no need to worry that it would develop a cross-species affection with his precious granddaughter!!

The older chieftain was on the right track, but not exactly correct. Forbidden love such as those that crossed races, skin colors, cultures, languages, even genders and age gaps did exist.

Overjoyed Emil failed to notice his shift in concern. Approaching the dismounted Brynhild with a face full of approval and pride, intending to praise her, before a low voice stopped his prepared words in his throat. His face full of love became frozen, then shattered.

"Miss Brynhild, please hurry. That man should already be outside the valley waiting."

Pure-blooded dragons could understand other races' languages. It wasn't shocking for one to speak Elf language, nor enough to cause Emil, a man with plenty of life experiences, such a strong reaction.

The issue laid in—the dragon was not the "He" Brynhild had mentioned in the letter!!!!!!!!!!!

The horrifying prospect was hundreds of times worse than before. The Elder Chieftain had only envisioned a cunning, smooth-talking human as the "He," yet it turned out to be a Black Dragon, an opulent mode of transportation used by the real "he" who hadn't met them yet, bringing his granddaughter home! What on earth is happening!!!!!!!!

The elder elf could not bear the reality of the scene and information in front of him, wishing it was all just absurd dreams. In a little while, he would wake up, covered in cold sweat, getting up from his bed, with Brynhild sitting by his side, telling him it was just a nightmare.

A human, who had a black dragon as a subordinate, had abducted his granddaughter. This old man didn't even have the chance to prevent something this terrifying from happening, unaware that he had been stripped of the power to. What a cruel joke Mother Goddess Mafa and the world have played on him!!!!!

Emil, who had weathered many storms, was momentarily stupefied and asked Brynhild sternly after he composed himself:

"What exactly is going on?"

Forcing himself to calm down to stop millions of galloping alpacas (slang for crazy thoughts), unwillingly he choked back all expletives ready on the tip of his tongue, waiting for Brynhild's answer.