Wizard: I'm leveling up by AFK in another world

Kelland's hand, which was resting on Fran's shoulder, tightened suddenly.

"You're rejecting me too?" Kelland's voice was terrifyingly low. "Don't forget who you are!"

"Your Excellency, Vice-Commander of the Silvermoon Knights, my current identity is that of a special envoy from the Silvermoon Tree Forest settlement, led by His Highness Elian," Fran replied, enunciating each word clearly. "I am fully aware of this."

"Furthermore, your arrogance is pushing the last vestiges of the Elven race toward the abyss. I am here to warn you as well."

"presumptuous!"

Kelland finally erupted.

He drew his longsword and placed it directly against Fran's neck.

The sharp blade sliced ​​through Fran's fair skin, drawing out dark red blood.

Fran didn't even blink. His hands hung naturally at his sides, making no defensive gesture, letting the cold blade brush against his throat.

"Good! Very good!" Kelland gritted his teeth. "That kid Elian has really grown up. He can even persuade people to betray their former superiors and defect to his side!"

"guard!"

The door was pushed open, and four elven guards rushed in and surrounded Fran.

"Seize this traitor!" Kellan sheathed his longsword. "Lock him in a cell, give him a private room."

The guards rushed forward, twisted Fran's arms behind his back, and locked his wrists in shackles.

Fran made no move to resist, allowing the guards to escort him out the door.

He had just been taken away when his adjutant came in with a thick stack of parchment.

"Your Excellency, Deputy Commander?" the adjutant asked cautiously, "The report you requested has been prepared..."

"Give it to me!"

The adjutant quickly handed over the report, glanced at the door, and hesitated.

He finally spoke up, "Vice Commander, what just happened?"

"Hmph! A mere brat who hasn't even grown his first beard dares to poach my people and send them here to give me his orders!"

"But as far as I know, Lord Elion... he also has quite a few people gathered there, and he is a force that cannot be ignored."

Kelland's contempt deepened: "Think about it carefully, is it possible for the Silvermoon Tree Forest to function properly at a time like this?"

"Elian is a clever kid. Taking advantage of Father God's disappearance and the church being left without anyone, he's using these kinds of rhetoric to win people over. What exactly is he trying to do?"

"If this kind of person were to inherit the position of Saint and lead the entire Silver Tree Elf race, he would likely bring endless trouble!"

Seeing Kellan's state, the adjutant knew that nothing he said would make a difference.

"As per your instructions, the entire army has assembled and awaits your final command."

Upon hearing this, Kelland finally calmed down and took the report from his adjutant.

He glanced at it briefly: "There's nothing false about what's written here, is there?"

"It concerns the fate of the entire Silver Tree Elf, and every mage in charge of the research has done their utmost, with absolutely no possibility of exaggeration."

"Very good." Kelland casually tossed the report aside.

"Sound the horn!"

……

……

Even though it was past noon, the fog in the forest had not yet dissipated.

It's as if some secret is hidden within this forest.

A group of about fifty elves stopped at the edge of the forest.

They were dressed in rags, and a few wore leather armor, which was covered with knife marks and tears.

Many people were supporting each other, their steps unsteady.

Leading the procession was an elderly mage with gray hair.

He leaned on his staff, his gray eyes fixed on the misty forest ahead.

"We've arrived..." In the group, a young female elf knelt down, her face full of joy.

"Look, those are all Silvermoon Trees! The rumors are true; His Highness Elion, the heir to the Saint, has built a new sanctuary here!"

The group stirred. Many of the listless elves' eyes lit up at those words.

Despite the fog obscuring the view, the outline of the Silvermoon Tree was so familiar and conspicuous to the elves.

After nearly a year of fleeing, these still-standing Silvermoon Trees were nothing short of a gift from the Father God to them.

Several young elves couldn't wait to take a step forward and rush into the forest.

"Halt! Everyone, stop right there!"

The old monk suddenly raised his staff and blocked the way for the crowd.

"Wise one, what's wrong?" the young female elf asked, looking at him with confusion. "That's the Silvermoon Forest! Prince Elion is waiting for us inside!"

The old monk did not answer. He turned around, took two slow steps forward, and stopped at the edge of the forest.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

It's a familiar taste.

But what's with that fog? Even the light from the Silver Moon Tree can't penetrate it.

and……

It's too quiet.

Logically speaking, the edge of a vibrant forest should be filled with the chirping of insects, the calls of birds, and the rustling of the wind through the leaves—that should be the magical forest he knew.

But there was nothing here. Even the wind, when it blew into this forest, seemed to be swallowed up by this mist, and no sound was heard.

The old monk slowly squatted down, extended his rough fingers, and gently touched the soil beneath his feet.

The touch of the soil sent a shiver down his spine.

The texture was extremely soft, even slightly warm. When pressed gently, the soil would bounce back slightly, like the flesh and blood of a living thing.

Not right.

He quickly withdrew his hand and vigorously rubbed his fingertips on his robe, as if they were contaminated with some terrible toxin.

"Captain, what are you looking at?" Another mage in the group stepped forward. "I feel that the wood element ahead is very abundant. This must be a living magic forest."

"A living magic forest? Sense it more carefully." The wise man pointed to the ground in front of the forest. "Look at the shadows on the ground."

The elven mage looked in the direction he was pointing, and his pupils suddenly contracted.

It was clearly afternoon, and the sunlight was shining obliquely from the west behind them.

Logically, the shadows of trees and shrubs should be elongated and cast deep into the forest.

However, at the edge of this forest, the shadows cast by the trees present an eerie distortion.

They did not extend in the direction of the light; all the shadows converged towards a certain point deep in the forest.

"This...this is impossible. How could the laws of light and shadow be distorted?" The elven mage took a step back in disbelief.

He began to use the little magic he had left to explore the shadow.

The moment his magic entered the forest, the mage suddenly let out a piercing scream, clutched his head with both hands, and collapsed to his knees.

"My head! Something is watching me! Countless eyes are watching me!" The monk rolled on the ground in agony, blood seeping from his seven orifices.

The wise man, quick-witted and agile, grabbed the mage by the collar and dragged him back to the group, away from the edge of the forest.

The elves in the group were immediately thrown into chaos, drawing their weapons and staring in terror at the forest before them.