Chapter 1386
Unfortunately, this theory cannot be fully confirmed. According to research on the Netherworld, although it's impossible to determine exactly when Blood Elves first appeared there, traces of elves can be found in every recorded history or ruin of the Netherworld. However, in the most ancient ruins, there are no signs of elves at all—the earliest evidence of their presence only dates back to the mid-to-late period of the Nesser Dynasty in Northend.
Leon himself doesn't know how these Blood Elves came to be. But like all elven races, they are a people favored by fate—born spellcasters, every Blood Elf in the tribe is a mage, the only difference being the strength of their talent.
If the Blood Elves' reproduction wasn't as difficult as all other elves—each newborn taking years, sometimes decades, to gestate—they would have already swept across the Netherworld.
The most numerous race in the Netherworld isn't the Orcs, but the Half-Orcs. Orc tribes are actually quite rare below ground, while Half-Orcs are scattered across almost the entire Netherworld.
Their powerful bodies make Half-Orcs natural-born warriors. Different Half-Orc subraces have their own unique gifts and strengths—though top-tier champions are far less common than among the Blood Elves, their sheer numbers are overwhelming...
In a Blood Elf tribe, one out of several hundred might become a titled Archmage, and among thousands, there may be one who breaks through to the Sky Rank.
But among the Half-Orcs, more than ninety-five percent are at the bottom of the military hierarchy. The strongest of them rarely reach Swordmaster level; among ten thousand, you might not find a single Sword Saint. In a tribe of hundreds of thousands or even millions, having one at Sky Rank is considered a sign of strength—and good fortune.
With such a disparity in ratios, even the Blood Elves cannot conquer the Half-Orcs—simply because the Half-Orc tribes outnumber the Blood Elves by hundreds or even thousands of times. Their vast numbers are the foundation of their stability.
Suddenly seeing Blood Elves, Leon's expression soured. Blood Elves are notorious for their arrogance and unreasonable ways, believing that every race in the Netherworld besides themselves is inferior.
Because of this attitude, the Blood Elves have gone to war with other races more times than anyone can count. At least half of all conflicts in the Netherworld started for reasons just like this...
Even with dragons, these arrogant Blood Elves dare to call them 'giant lizards' or 'big reptiles.' Is there anything they won't insult? The most famous war in the records happened over ten thousand years ago—after a Blood Elf insulted a powerful descendant of the Destruction Black Dragon, that dragon's temper flared, and it destroyed several Blood Elf cities. Thus began a war that raged for centuries...
Leon was still lost in memories about the Blood Elves when, without warning, a blood-red arrow of light shot across thousands of meters straight at the floating airship.
Dalri, flying in front, turned pale and instinctively threw himself in the arrow's path. His battle aura exploded; his hands transformed into massive lizard claws over two meters long, which he slammed down onto the blood-red arrow.
With a thunderous boom, the arrow shattered, and Dalri was blasted backwards dozens of meters. Blood-red light enveloped his giant claws, and from a thin crack on their surface, blood spurted out like a fountain. His battle aura flickered for several seconds before the bleeding finally stopped.
"Dalri, you stupid reptile—how dare you show your face here? What, did you think bringing some mongrel dragons for backup means you can just stroll into our territory?"
On the other side, a male Blood Elf—so beautiful he could be mistaken for a woman—stood atop a monstrous bird, gripping a massive two-meter blood crystal bow, sneering down at Dalri.
With just that one sentence, Dalri's expression changed completely...
This stupidly arrogant bastard—does he not sense that there's a terrifying powerhouse here? If he wants to insult me, fine, but to insult these terrifying adults too? Is he suicidal?
Stupid Blood Elves. Can't they feel the pressure of bloodline suppression, or even sense a powerful presence? How did someone this clueless survive so long? He's doomed, absolutely doomed...
He's dead for sure. I have no idea just how strong that unfathomable adult is, nor what kind of temper he has. But Lord Hubert? His temper's not great. And Lady Leina? She doesn't seem easy to get along with either...
This idiot is finished, and he's dragging me down with him. What if the adults think the trouble was my fault...
Dalri gritted his teeth. Not caring that he wasn't a match for the other side, he roared and prepared to charge forward.
"You arrogant, foolish idiot! Since when was this Blood Elf territory? If you're looking for trouble, I'm happy to oblige!"
But before he could make a move, someone from the floating airship beat him to it. Hubert, who'd been mocked by Andefa the whole way and was already seething, couldn't hold back any longer once Leon gave the nod.
As Hubert flew into the air, his body began to shimmer with magical light—Bloodthirst, Earth Power, Hurricane—all layered onto him. A blood-red phantom of an abyssal evil dragon appeared on his skin, its ferocious, wicked eyes fixed on the Blood Elves.
Seeing Hubert charge forward, the Sky Rank Level 3 Blood Elf on the other side sneered, slowly drawing his massive bow as a blood-red arrow of light formed on the string.
"Stupid mongrel reptile! You don't even have real dragon traits, yet you dare call yourself a dragon? Die!"
In a blink, the arrow shot across thousands of meters, slamming into Hubert. Eyes blazing red, Hubert swung Slaughter casually, smashing the blood-red arrow to pieces—without slowing down for a second as he charged straight at the Blood Elf.
The Blood Elf's prideful blood-red arrows had no effect at all. He seemed surprised, but shrugged it off, pulling his bowstring again and firing three more blood-red arrows in quick succession.