[Western Fantasy] The black-skinned elf also wants to hug the rich woman’s lap today

O'Brien often felt that he could never understand women.

Isn't this nonsense? What extra can you expect from a black-skinned elf who fears women?

This is of course not an illusion caused by some kind of imagination, but a fact that is right in front of us.

So when Flora held Sylvia's hand affectionately and asked to go shopping, the elf naturally did not expect that the so-called "shopping" did not only refer to purchasing necessary supplies, but also shopping and chatting to experience the local customs. A large-scale offline time-killing activity that integrates buying and selling.

This surprised the elf, who always likes to get straight to the point and solve the problem quickly.

Unyielding Avenue is bustling with people. When the four of them stopped at the fifteenth pushcart grocery store after two hours of shopping, O'Brien was already numb.

Little puppets, preserved flowers, and sparkling knitted fabrics with a southern style. O'Brien seems to take them for granted. He even thinks about whether they are wholesale shoddy tourist "souvenirs", but the girls can't put them down.

Today, O'Brien gained a new understanding of this city where he has lived for almost a hundred years - these people on the Indomitable Avenue are truly evil traffickers who specialize in preying on tourists and outsiders.

But these dealers are very smart. The products they sell may not be exquisite in shape or expensive in materials, but they are rare enough and make people feel "eye-opening". So even if the price/performance ratio is not high, there are many people who are willing to pay for it.

The werewolf brother next to him seemed to have already known about Flora's shopping habit and was accustomed to her style. He naturally acted as a laborer, carefully collecting the things she bought and carrying them in his hands. These little bits and pieces. Toys and packaging bags decorated this nearly two-meter-strong man into a gorgeous, plush Christmas tree.

Watching O'Brien secretly widen his eyes and gasp.

Fortunately, fortunately Sylvia is not that...

Then he saw that the pastor was also infected by the enthusiastic red-haired girl and curiously played with the accessories on the stall.

Help! Pastor, calm down!

For the first time, O'Brien discovered that the difference between "Great Sage" and "Great Wrongful One" was only two words.

The stall owner who knew nothing about the elves' resentment was still bragging, "This is an ice crystal butterfly specimen brought back from the far north! This is a green rose that once bloomed on the 'fertile soil' and was preserved with a secret method! This is the south A golden bell made by the snake man himself!”

His voice was full of mysterious coaxing and worldly slickness, "This is the only one, out of print!"

Who believes it! The dark elf shouted in his heart.

But the simple bastard was really ready to pay. Looks like I really like that one, legendary! Out of print! Gold! Handmade by Snake Man! According to legend, it has a history of hundreds of years! Bell!

O'Brien's eyes were blank.

Should I save the lost girl?

The elf was anxious. The elf was uneasy.

Such good people and good deeds are inconsistent with your personality! O'Brien!

Sylvia's hand taking out the money was stopped by another hand that came out of nowhere.

"Wait a minute." O'Brien twitched the corner of his mouth and tried hard to organize his words, trying to make himself look more credible. "Let me talk to the stall owner."

"It can be cheaper, right?" The black-skinned elf turned to the stall owner and showed a half-hearted smile. The stall owner unconsciously broke out in cold sweat all over his back.

Yes, I just can't bear to see someone more cunning than me. O'Brien explained to himself.

The corners of his mouth twitched again. It was over, he felt like the left side of his face was going to cramp, it must have been caused by that fake smile.

Turning his head, he saw the werewolf brother looking at him with a meaningless look.

What are you looking at? The elf mentally rolled his eyes.

The end result of the shopping was no surprise. Flora, who had spent a lot of money, happily pulled her good sister who was also playing with the bells contentedly, followed by a sparkling werewolf-shaped Christmas tree and a snorting black-skinned enemy. Elf.

Why haven’t we arrived at the dress shop after almost three hours? Isn’t the purpose of our going out today to choose a dress?

O'Brien wanted to cover his eyes. Skull pain. But I think this is a sign of cowardice. Surrounded by the werewolf that exuded hostility at all times, he still decided to maintain his final composure.

The group of them actually attracted the attention of the vendors in this alley. O'Brien believed that this was a look at someone who had been taken advantage of. There were also many mobile vendors and children who helped sell jewelry to supplement the family's income. He compared the two men with fierce looks behind him, and finally wisely chose to surround the two men in front. A priest lady was spinning.

What is this? The tortured elf looked at the products that the children put in the boxes on their chests with despair. Dried flower bracelets woven from roadside wildflowers? A crude amulet? Homemade liqueur?

A child dressed as a sandman stood at the front, his white cloth turban soaked with sweat. O'Brien saw the priest take out a piece of paper from the box he hung on his chest for selling items.

"This is... a magic circle! Miss!" The child stammered nervously. After all, the paper didn't look very good. It was so wrinkled that it looked like it had been torn from an abandoned notice. "This magic circle can be used." Come and light the fire! Only ten copper coins! Miss!"

Hearing this, even most of the people in the noisy market burst into laughter.

The complexity of the magic circle does not only lie in the rare materials used in its outline and the various lines it consists of. People with magical powers are actually not as rare as imagined, but there are very few people who can properly exert its effects.

To use magic, you must first understand the elements in your body.

"Most people have elemental affinities. But there are only tens of thousands of mages. Very few." Sylvia finally bought this so-called "magic circle" despite Obulin's disapproval. . O'Brien guessed she was doing a good deed.

She held the crumpled paper, still thinking, "You can think of the elements as an extra 'limb' in the body that is invisible but does exist. Some people are extremely talented and are born with the ability to control For this limb, some people learned from the experience of their predecessors and figured out the tricks to use it over a long period of time. It’s just..."

The pastor's voice lowered, "More people will never be able to feel that they have such an extra limb throughout their lives."

"Then what does this have to do with the magic circle?" Flora couldn't help but sell it, and bought a sesame seed cake with local characteristics. After taking a big bite, she handed it to the werewolf behind her with a frown. The werewolf took it in silence and looked inside. Sure enough, it contained the diced carrots she hated most.

Sylvia pondered for a moment and wanted to use a more colloquial description to state the slightly complicated facts, "The use of elements comes from understanding the structure of one's own body. Just understanding the composition of the elements in one's own body may take a person most of his life." time, not to mention that the magic circle needs to use materials and lines to connect the elements scattered in the world. What really tests the magic circle maker is not the selection of materials and lines, but the understanding of the 'rules' of the world. This is also the magic circle Reason for rarity.”

"I finally understand why the Holy See spends such a large amount of money on the magic circle every year." Flora shrugged and spoke briskly, "Things that are scarce are more valuable."

O'Brien stared thoughtfully at the simple magic circle on the scrap paper in the priest's hand, "What about this one?"

Sylvia didn't answer.

She just raised the corners of her lips, and her gentle face suddenly took on a lively look, like a cat that had discovered a ball of yarn, a kind of cold beauty.

call.

A small flame tremblingly emerged from a corner of the waste paper, swaying like a bud trying to grow from the cracks. No matter what, it does indeed exist, arising from this messy, sloppy, and seemingly beginner-made magic circle.

The elf was startled. He had not expected this result, and subconsciously turned back to look for the figure of the sales child. But the child no longer knew where he had slipped away.

"It's okay." The priest knocked on the artichoke staff disguised as a cane in his hand. The weak flame seemed to have encountered an invisible barrier and went out silently, leaving behind an unclear formation on the paper below. , "Cheap and easy-to-use formations, they will naturally become 'famous' in a short time."

She smiled, "At that time, we can meet the 'Master of the Magic Circle' behind the scenes."

----------------

Dear Mr. "Evolution".

Everything is fine with me in Gabu City. The experiment I mentioned to you last time is also proceeding as planned.

The effect of the medicine is still unstable. Half of this batch of experimental subjects had no reaction after taking the drug, and the other half were deprived of their abilities after a brief "seeing", and their physical strength was excessively overdrawn, which in some cases led to the death of the experimental subjects.

But there is still an experimental subject who awakens and gains the ability to "see".

This is really happy and exciting news, isn't it?

In your last reply, you were worried about the commotion I made in Gabu City. True, great experiments will always be met with skepticism, but I implore you to have faith in them. Please believe that we are not far from the truth. The answer to "Abyssal Parasitism" is hidden in this little pill.

As I write this letter, I am sitting on a church bench. The eternal light shines through the statue of God, and the soft orange light spreads throughout the room. This had to touch me. I often think that "he", whether it is the "prophet" in our mouth or the "god" in the Holy See's mouth, has only lived longer than us, knows more, and inherited more experiences about the world. . Just as we respect the elderly, it is because his experience in life often brings correct results.

Our ignorance stems from our insignificance, which in turn leads to a narrow vision. Only by jumping out of this cycle can we truly understand the world we live in, look at "him" as an equal, and change our destiny from those "others". snatched it back from God's hands.

May the all-knowing and all-powerful prophet be able to give me intellectual guidance.

Yours, yours, Jane.