"Greetings, Elder! Welcome to the Elder's Isle!" she said cheerfully, bowing respectfully before straightening up again.
Lein studied the girl with interest. Her black hair was braided neatly down her back, and her wide, sparkling eyes radiated enthusiasm. Though her strength was only at early Tier-3, she stood unfazed before them—even with Laras and Efan, whose powers were far greater, standing beside him.
"What's your name, miss? If you don't mind, I could be your guide," she offered with a wide grin.
Lein raised an eyebrow, slightly intrigued by her boldness. "I'm Lein. And you?" he asked in a friendlier tone.
"My name's Zeylith!" she answered proudly. "I'm the daughter of Gravholm!"
Lein narrowed his eyes. "Gravholm?" he murmured, trying to recall if he had heard the name before.
Suddenly, a sharp gust of wind sliced through the air. Instinctively, Lein straightened up, ready for a possible threat. In a flash, an old man shot toward them from the distance and landed right behind Zeylith.
"Zeylith!" the old man barked, swiftly tugging her ear.
"What nonsense are you spouting this time?! Have you been lying to new elders again?!" His voice was angry, though laced with exhaustion—as if he had dealt with this situation too many times before.
Lein watched the old man warily. The energy radiating from him was at King-3 level—high enough to pose a threat if he meant harm. But judging by the irritated look on his face as he scolded Zeylith, Lein guessed he wasn't dangerous—just someone worn down by the mischief of the girl in front of him.
"Ow…! Sorry, Grandpa Thurok! I greeted them properly this time!" Zeylith protested, wincing as she tried to defend herself.
Thurok scoffed. "Highly unlikely. You were probably up to something again," he grumbled, then turned his gaze to Lein.
"My apologies, Lord Lein," he said with a more respectful tone. "She's the daughter of Elder Gravholm. She's been known to trick new elders before," he explained, watching closely in case Lein had already fallen victim to her antics.
Lein responded with a faint smile. He could see the excitement in her eyes—there was no ill intent. "It's alright, Master Thurok. She welcomed us warmly," he replied, casting a brief glance at the girl.
Zeylith immediately raised her chin in pride, as if she had just won a grand argument.
Thurok sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Very well…" he muttered, before clearing his throat and looking back at Lein. "Anyway, let me show you around the area, Lord Lein."
Lein gave a nod and followed the old man. Alongside Laras and Efan, they walked down a narrow path toward a small lodge not far from the teleportation platform.
"That post over there is a common gathering spot during our free time, Lord Lein," Thurok explained, pointing to a simple building with a curved roof. Thin smoke curled from within, carrying the warm scent of spices.
Lein observed the area around them. Elder's Isle resembled a peaceful, self-sustaining village—very different from the places he'd seen before. There was no visible hierarchy or power dynamic. Everyone lived side by side; elders and their families mingled in a calm, well-ordered routine. If they wished to leave, a special portal in the center of the teleportation platform was available.
As they arrived at the gathering post, a woman stood behind the counter, preparing drinks. She looked up as they approached.
"Ephraza, four light ales and yellow dragon soup," Thurok called out casually, as if this was a well-practiced routine.
The woman smiled. "Coming right up, Grandpa Thurok!" she replied with enthusiasm. But then her eyes landed on Zeylith.
"Zeylith, what would you like? I'll make it for you," she said with an eager look.
Zeylith, who had still been sulking from Thurok's earlier scolding, suddenly lit up with excitement. "Cloud-cow milk and beef stew!" she exclaimed, raising two fingers like an impatient child.
Ephraza could only shake her head with a chuckle before beginning to prepare the orders.
Lein, Efan, and Laras watched quietly. There was a warmth in this place—children playing with their siblings, mothers sitting on the sidelines watching over them with affection. In one corner, a group of men casually sharpened weapons and tended to their gear while chatting.
"This is what our daily life looks like when there are no missions, Lord Lein," Thurok said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Lein looked around again, taking in the joyful laughter of the children in the distance, while elders chatted leisurely beneath a wooden pavilion. "It's a peaceful place, Master Thurok," he replied in a relaxed tone.
Thurok squinted slightly, turning his eyes toward the two figures standing behind Lein. "Who are they, Lord Lein?" he asked curiously. Their auras were powerful, and he could tell they weren't ordinary individuals.
Lein gave a small smile. "They're my friends." With a casual gesture, he pointed toward them one by one. "This is Efan, and this is Laras."
Thurok stroked his white beard, a soft hum escaping his lips. "Still so young, yet already at Grandmaster level…" His eyes gleamed with deep interest. "Would you two be interested in becoming my disciples?" he asked suddenly, without any hesitation.
Lein paused for a moment. The old man in front of him was so straightforward, as if accepting disciples wasn't something that needed any serious thought.
Efan and Laras exchanged glances but didn't answer right away.
Thurok didn't back down. "I'm quite well-versed in the laws of light," he said, attempting to capture their interest. With a wave of his hand, the once-cloudy sky shifted. Golden light pierced through, opening a rift in the heavens. From within it, something began to descend—a massive statue with majestic wings unfurled.
Laras stood still, eyes wide in awe. The holy light surrounding the statue was so pure, she could feel it resonating deep within her. "The Statue of the Goddess of Light?" she murmured, voice filled with reverence.
Lein took note of Laras's reaction. His instincts immediately picked up on the girl's profound connection to the entity depicted in the sculpture. Sure enough, Laras began to step forward, as though drawn by an invisible force.