Later that night, everyone sat on a round wooden table… it was shaped like an oval so there was enough space for a lot of people to sit down on.

The long table gleamed with polished moonwood, reflecting the lanterns suspended above it… each lantern glowing with a soft emerald tint controlled by delicate enchantments woven into their surface.

The Elf King sat at the head of the table with it's posture perfectly straight and it's hands folded with inhuman poise.

One of the Elf maids walked forward, poured the king a cup of tea, then stepped back with a bow so deep her forehead nearly brushed the floor.

The Elf King nodded, lifted the teacup, and took a slow sip while looking at everyone at the table.

Azel felt the weight of its gaze on him… the same way one feels cold water sliding down their spine.

It wasn't hostile, rather it was just unnervingly analytical. The moment the Elf King finished its inspection, it raised its cup again with a blank, unreadable expression.

Sylvia had told him about this meeting earlier…

It was more or less about noble families observing one another before the trials began.

A formal dinner of silent power plays, quiet judgments, and veiled insults disguised as pleasantries.

The official trials would start the next day; this was nothing but a formality.

'According to Sylvia… there are about twelve families here, including her, which is under the current Elf King's family.' Azel thought as he let his gaze sweep the table.

There were three major houses… families that shaped elven history, magic, scholarship, and political direction.

They carried themselves with the polished arrogance of people used to having influence.

After them were the five minor houses.

They weren't as strong or wealthy, but still influential… especially Reatris, which Sylvia had mentioned was on the verge of rising to major-house status.

The remaining houses were upcoming ones, respected but nowhere near the decision-making core of the Elven nation.

Though everything these houses had in common was their bloodline: all were somehow related to the royal lineage.

Even the weakest among them bore some remnant trait… silver veins in the eyes, royal glow in mana, longevity, or an affinity pattern reminiscent of royals.

For example, the Seatra representative… he looked like Alvinus's handsome twin, with those golden tri-tone eyes that were eerily similar to the Elf King's outer ring.

Azel could feel magic radiating from the man… it was contained but powerful.

If all of them fought him together in an exhibition match, he was certain he could deal with them individually, but collectively? He still would… though it would not be as easy.

And the Elf King… that was on an entirely different level. He had already felt divinity roll off its body earlier.

Even if Elarielle took her life divinity back, he doubted he could beat the Elf King as it currently was.

'Well I shouldn't be comparing.' He sighed inwardly as he took a sip of tea. It tasted nothing like human tea… it was sweet and herbal but smooth, and suspiciously addictive.

He didn't know what was in it, but he wasn't complaining. Before everyone was a platter of green biscuits that looked like they were made out of moss, crushed leaves, and the roots of Yggdrasill itself.

The rule, Sylvia had told him, was simple: no one touches the biscuits until the Elf King takes one first.

"Thank you all for coming." The Elf King said as it took a biscuit, chewed slowly, swallowed, then washed it down with tea.

Only then did everyone else reach toward the platter except Azel.

He stared at the green biscuits with a skeptical frown. 'Hell no… I am not eating something that looks like compressed grass.'

Sylvia gently nudged him under the table.

Her eyes gleamed with encouragement. 'Please just take one so they don't stare at you more…'

He reluctantly took one. It tasted far better than it looked, which both surprised and annoyed him.

"Like I have announced," the Elf King began, "the Elf King Trials will truly be starting tomorrow. Get enough sleep today. There is a reason why I have decided not to take from the older generations like the heads of your clans. It is because I believe they will take over the Elves and drive them with their beliefs. I will soon be stepping down from my position as the Elf King, so it is your job to complete the trials thoroughly and impress me with your beliefs and your power."

Sylvia kept her expression neutral, but inside she thought. 'You should have stepped down decades ago. Your "beliefs" are what kept our people stagnant for so long.'

"The Elf King is not only meant to be very strong," the monarch continued, "but also very fluid and wise. Not only an Elf King, but any King in fact… They are meant to be flexible but at the same time, render justice. They are meant to watch after their subjects and understand how the world works. Our world is changing. It is not like before, when the races were at war with one another. We now live in peace, and you must understand that as well."

Sylvia took a sip of her tea. The cup trembled only the slightest bit in her hand.

'Peace? Tell them the truth. Tell them it wasn't peace… you simply grew tired. You hid from conflict and forced us to bend with the wind rather than shape it. I will fix that… once I take your throne.'

"Humans," the Elf King said next, and everyone at the table slowly turned toward Azel, "are not as bad as our ancestors made them out to be. As you see, my daughter is with a human, and he is not trying to do whatever you all think humans do."

A few nobles shifted awkwardly.

"Though that depends on which human you meet…" the Elf King added as if recalling something unpleasant. "Hundreds of years ago, I had a friend known as Yarog, which you know as the Machine Founder. He created the underground transit systems and helped circulate Yggdrasill's energy throughout the land of elves. The human woman he fell in love with, however… was what one would call in human terms, a whore. You must never end up with that kind of human, or else all that awaits is destruction."

Azel's eyes widened slightly. He subconsciously glanced at Gwendolyn floating beside him.

'Is there something you're not telling me…? Why is the Elf King talking about you like that?'

Gwendolyn averted her eyes, puffed her cheeks, then muttered, "I don't know…"

Her fidgeting and refusal to meet his gaze made it painfully clear she did know. He would get the truth later… there was no escaping him when he wanted answers.

One of the elves at the table abruptly raised her hand and The Elf King nodded in her direction.

"Yes, Feliora of House Lunethis. What is your proposition?"

Sylvia's fingers curled under the table.

'Feliora… of all people. What is she planning now?'

Feliora stood gracefully, her silver skirt rustling softly. Her tri-tone eyes flicked to Azel for half a second before she smiled… a delicate smile that revealed nothing.

She placed one hand on her chest and bowed lightly.

"My King, I propose—"

"I propose that we have some kind of tournament." Feliora said.

Azel lifted his gaze toward her. House Lunethis… he remembered Sylvia mentioning it earlier was one of the main three houses directly under the Elf King's lineage.

Their signature talent was cultivating mages of the Lunar class, experts in illusion magic and subtle manipulation.

Dangerous, absolutely but nothing he couldn't handle.

Feliora's silver eyes glimmered as she folded her hands together while the Elf King looked up at her with a slow, measured raising of its brow.

"Aren't the fights that are going to happen by tomorrow enough?" the Elf King asked.

Feliora cleared her throat, refusing to back down.

"The men… regardless of whether they are humans or elves, must stretch themselves properly. We will take it as a warm-up for tomorrow." She spread her arms gracefully. "And it will allow us to evaluate their capabilities."

Azel could feel the atmosphere shift. Instantly, every male elf at the long wooden table turned to stare at him… they were not giving him subtle glances neither were they just sizing him up, but outright hostility mixed with anticipation.

All of them had the same thought:

'Disgrace the human.'

Azel ignored their stares and he sipped his tea instead.

The Elf King sipped its tea as well, but with an expressionless face. When it lowered the cup, it gave a small shrug.

"If everyone is agreeable to this arrangement, then I suppose it is acceptable." Its tri-tone eyes shifted back to Feliora. "But how do you intend to settle the rules?"

"We shall do it in the way elves do best," Feliora said proudly. "Magic Combat. No weapons. Only fists and magic… any other tools, potions, seals, or artifacts are strictly prohibited."

Sylvia, sitting beside Azel, lowered her gaze.

Her lips curved in the smallest suppressed smile.

Inside, she knew these conditions favored Azel heavily. If she had chosen Aegon instead of Azel, it would've still been easy for him.

Only someone like Reinhardt would have struggled, and he wasn't even here. This was perfect.

"Do you all accept?" the Elf King asked.

The male elves nodded instantly.

Then the Elf King turned its attention to Azel.

Those tri-tone eyes bore into him without blinking.

"Yes, Elf King," Azel replied, bowing his head politely. Sylvia nodded subtly in approval of his respectful behavior.

"Good," the Elf King said as it stood. "I will take you all to a proper arena. Everyone… follow me."

…

Minutes later, the entire group stood inside a vast wooden arena… one large enough to fit several hundred people.

Azel had no idea how they got there. They had stepped onto what looked like polished tiles, only for the ground to rumble and descend like an elevator into a subterranean battleground.

Even down here, the floor and walls were pure enchanted wood.

Azel cracked his shoulder lightly, rolling his neck. There were around twelve male elves standing in a semicircle around him.

On the outer edges were the women, the advisors, the household attendants, and the Elf King itself watching silently from a raised platform.

Feliora stepped forward.

Her voice rang loudlythrough the arena.

"The Elf King has appointed me as supervisor of this warm-up tournament." She clapped her hands. "Since we lack proper protective gear, you are all to remove your shirts and expose your upper bodies! Let us see the tempering of your physique!"

Almost all the elves complied immediately.

Alvinus's brother… identifiable by his distinct golden eyes similar to the Elf King removed his shirt first.

His build was decent which was athletic and toned but not exceptional. The others varied from lean, mage-like builds to lightly muscular forms.

What was immediately clear was this… Elven men did not train their bodies the same way humans did.

Some of them looked confused just removing their shirts, like they'd never been asked to do something so barbaric before.

Azel removed his own shirt.

The reaction was immediate.

His defined abs reflected the arena's dim light. His chest, shoulders, and arms were sculpted from a mixture of divine power, training, and natural genius.

He tossed the shirt aside casually.

A small breeze swept across him.

Sylvia caught the shirt using a small whisper of wind magic, a blush rising on her cheeks as she held it carefully like a precious item.

All the men stared at Azel's body with a range of emotions… jealousy, bitterness, and disbelief.

Some even stepped back unconsciously.

'Just be honored, bro…' Azel thought dryly. His physique wasn't normal and among elves? He looked like something carved from divine stone.

Feliora lifted her hand dramatically.

"You may now… begin!"

The moment the words left her lips, an elf on the far left of the formation burst forward with a wind-assisted sprint.

His arms swung behind him as green mana swirling heavily around his fists.

Azel blinked.

The distance wasn't even that far, yet the elf took forever to close it.

'Even Aegon would have done it in an instant,' Azel thought.

The charging elf shouted, "You don't even have mana arts!"

He threw a punch at Azel's face.

It landed dead-on.

Azel didn't even blink.

The elf froze. His eyes widened… it was too late to retract the punch.

Azel tilted his head slightly.

"Is that what you call a punch…?"

He threw a fist forward.

He didn't even put much strength into it.

The impact blasted the elf backward like a ragdoll, his body flipping twice before smashing against the wooden wall.

A sickening "pop" sounded as his jaw dislocated, blood spilling from his lips as he collapsed unconscious.

The arena went silent.

Azel stared at his hand expressionlessly.

'Reduce my physical power to 10% for elves… noted.'

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.