Chapter 29

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Chapter 29: Breakthrough Point

The caravan was settled at the outskirts of the Elven Tribe’s settlement, in a clearing about three hundred meters away. Of course, there were guards who pretended to be protectors but actually kept watch, along with hidden sentries no one would tell you about. Still, they didn’t restrict free movement entirely.

In some ways, the elegant and proud Elves made better trading partners. At least once they agreed to a deal, they wouldn’t resort to dirty tricks. Compared to underhanded humans, this counted as a noble quality.

The old leader had truly come to do business. The best cover stories always contained real transactions.

The cargo this time included carefully selected goods from the Elvin Trading Company’s warehouse, supplemented by the Asreks family’s support. Practical bows, crossbows, tasty specialty foods and fruits, plus various alchemical potions quickly drew many Elves to trade.

For Midi and the other "guards," this idle wandering time marked the real start of their mission.

"First, build rapport without arousing suspicion. Bring lots of candies – every Elf loves them, even centuries-old ones. If lost, ask the ‘Forest Children’ like those Wind Team members," Midi reminded carefully. Though the four had received crash training from the old leader, repeating advice couldn’t hurt.

"What specifics should we watch for?" The ever-cautious Sigmund did final checks.

"The magic veins. Only one thing matters – the magic veins," Midi stated bluntly.

Find the magic veins, find the Witch.

This truth came from the Mist Sorceress Alice’s own lips in his past life. Midi treated it as absolute.

Though gathering information had uses, Fina’s group were adventurers, not spies. Humans stood out too much in Elven lands to expect real results from espionage.

Moreover, Midi understood Alice too well.

The reclusive Mist Sorceress hated attention. Elven reverence? Ruler’s aura? She’d consider such things worthless trash. Though effectively ruling, only Elven elders likely knew her existence – far beyond this small caravan’s reach.

Thus Midi’s plan focused not on direct clues from the Elves, but indirect ones.

Specifically, the magic veins.

The Nibelungen Dragon Sealing Array in Belmar Duchy sat atop a thousand-kilometer dragon vein. Most magic veins existed as smaller fragments – intersecting mineral deposits, underground streams, and caverns where magic pooled.

Though individually small, these veins shaped entire ecosystems. Controlling them meant controlling the land – forests, wildlife, mountains, even airspace.

By installing guiding magic arrays on each vein, one could channel magic flows like redirecting rivers. Those who controlled this gathered power became true land rulers.

Like Alice Otolopas, Mist Sorceress.

A spell, gesture, or thought from her could bring eternal spring or earthquakes turning forests to hellscapes. She could manipulate wildlife into starting wars.

This represented nature’s ultimate control – efficient, powerful, perfect. Compared to nobles seizing lands with castles and tax collectors, their "lordship" seemed primitive.

Alice’s magic network let the forest survive celestial fires and withstand the Delos Empire’s assault. When Belmar’s capital fell, her Witch’s abode endured.

Now, as a reincarnator with second awakening insights, Midi realized Alice’s silence hid unfathomable depths.

Yet magic vein control had vulnerabilities.

Invaders destroying guiding magic arrays could dismantle the network layer by layer, toppling the forest’s ruler. Of course, this required surviving her counterattacks first.

Midi planned to exploit this trait. Without damaging arrays, he’d trace magic flows backward through the veins to pinpoint the Witch’s abode.

However, even this plan met severe setbacks in the first few days.

Regarding the magic veins, all Elves—men, women, young and old—kept their mouths tightly shut. They hadn’t detected Midi’s group subtly probing for information. Rather, avoiding the topic appeared to be an ancient tradition ingrained through generations of upbringing. Though unaware of the Mist Sorceress Alice’s existence or the magic veins’ importance to her, they instinctively avoided related discussions. This wasn’t secrecy but a cultural reflex.

Extracting intelligence became nearly impossible under these conditions. Pushing too hard risked exposing their intentions, which might lead to expulsion from the village or even becoming enemies. Faced with this cultural iron wall, their investigation stalled completely.

Time slipped away relentlessly, yet Midi remained patient. He believed even deeply rooted traditions had vulnerabilities.

Three days passed swiftly. The merchant caravan’s camp became a popular gathering spot for Elves. Though Midi’s wanderings yielded no useful information, their frequent appearances made them familiar faces. When Elves spotted the black-haired boy and red-haired girl now, fewer displayed overt wariness—most simply kept their distance.

The Belmar Duchy’s renowned fruit candies played no small role. Equally impactful was Fina’s striking beauty and crimson hair, which outshone even Elven maidens. Beauty fascinated all, Elves especially. A human girl surpassing their own in grace naturally sparked curiosity. Fortunately, Elves cared little for human nobility—otherwise, the Hamilton name might’ve drawn unwanted attention.

On the fourth day, Midi decided to shift tactics. Instead of combing the village, he’d search the forest for traces of magic veins.

Just as he prepared to leave with Fina, raised voices erupted near the old leader’s shop.

“Trouble?” Midi and Fina exchanged glances. Instead of rushing headlong, they smoothly split up, executing textbook flanking maneuvers.

But upon arrival, Midi found no human-Elf conflict—this was an internal Elven quarrel.

On one side stood Beryl, the arrogant captain of the Wind Team. Opposing him was Dylan, a young Elf with pale blond hair. Between them, the flustered merchant leader clutched a crimson-bladed sword.

“The Blade of Shattered Mind?” Midi vaguely recalled it being a prized weapon for swordsmen and Demon Swordsmen. Having undergone second awakening, Midi cared little for lower-tier weapons. His focus lay on personal growth and strategy, not gear.

But others clearly valued equipment. The argument proved it.

“A Patrol Team grunt like you doesn’t deserve this blade,” Beryl sneered.

Dylan stood tall. “Even non-elites strive for strength, Captain.”

“Can’t you see the bigger picture?” Beryl’s teammates chuckled.

“You’re a gunslinger. Why claim a sword?” Dylan shot back.

“My top swordsman—the tribe’s finest—needs proper arms.” Beryl stressed each “best” mockingly. “We guard the most perilous zones.”

Dylan clenched his jaw. This sword, forged from human-mined rare metals, was unobtainable in Elven lands. He’d spent two years gathering materials for this trade. Now Beryl was stealing it.

As the argument escalated, Midi’s eyes sharpened—here was the opening he’d awaited.

“This blade suits Dylan perfectly.”

Every Elf turned as Midi’s calm voice cut through the tension.

Beryl narrowed his eyes. “Human, why meddle in Elven affairs?”