I might have mentioned this before, but the most severe racial slur for elves is the term "pointy-eared."

The long ears of elves are believed to be the medium through which they communicate more deeply with the gods, so mocking them is guaranteed to provoke anger.

It’s such an extreme insult that even jokingly saying it to Arwen could potentially ruin our relationship. She might overlook it the first time as a slip of the tongue or a joke, but there would be no second chances.

If this term can destroy a loving relationship, imagine what would happen if it were said to someone you’ve just met. Killing the person who uttered the insult on the spot might even be considered justifiable.

It’s comparable to using the N-word toward Black people in my previous life. That’s how deeply offensive "pointy-eared" is to elves—it’s the ultimate insult and wound.

Dark elves, however, are an exception. Hating their elven heritage, they often cut off their own ears and don’t seem to care much about the term.

On a side note, humans are surprisingly less sensitive to racial slurs. They’re acutely aware that they are among the weakest of the races, which tempers their reactions.

Anyway, back to Eiker’s historical book. From the very first sentence, he launches the most scathing insult possible at his own race.

For an elf to begin his writing with a racial slur against elves—it made me wonder just how much bitterness had accumulated within him.

“Yeah, I’d be furious too,” I thought to myself.

Honestly, I’d be upset too, given the humiliation Eiker endured. His allies underestimated their opponents and suffered defeat after defeat. When he proposed a new strategy out of desperation, the council nitpicked and obstructed him.

Ultimately, he was imprisoned for actions deemed illegal under elven law, and as a result, Alvenheim suffered a humiliating defeat.

Although the nation wasn’t overthrown and peace was reached through negotiation, the terms of the treaty were essentially a loss for Alvenheim.

Had they followed Eiker’s recommendations, they could have avoided the clauses that forced them to open The Sanctum and share their magic. Moreover, Alvenheim was required to maintain unconditional openness for the next 100 years.

The book’s contents felt less like a historical record and more like an autobiography—most of it critical of elves.

While he occasionally praised humans, his perspective remained shaped by the war, so his praise wasn’t overly generous.

Instead, he explored questions like how humans managed to compete equally with elves, what fueled their tenacity, and why they persisted against all odds.

Through his observations and hypotheses, Eiker crafted what could be considered a genuine "historical text."

“I argued passionately. Humans’ tactics were becoming increasingly sophisticated, inflicting severe damage even upon us. I suggested a preemptive strike—if killing was unthinkable, perhaps destroying their supply lines through magic.

But those pointy-eared bastards refused, claiming that starving an enemy to death was barbaric. They insisted Alvenheim had no need for 'tactics' and demanded we focus solely on defense.

Did they even realize that, aside from battles against demons, Alvenheim had never engaged in a true 'war'? Even when we exiled the dark elves, it was more akin to a political maneuver than a battle.

Meanwhile, humans, as they built their civilizations, developed far superior strategies and tactics through countless wars.

Some fools claim that copying others’ methods makes you no better than them. The council parroted this sentiment, saying that we, blessed by the gods, should never stoop to such crude actions. They preached that we must always govern with noble intentions.

What nonsense. This is war. A place where swords, spears, and all manner of destructive magic clash, leaving no room for nobility.

And yet, both my superior and subordinates spewed such rubbish. My lieutenant was the only sensible one, but with our commander spouting such drivel, it made little difference. I had no choice but to carefully frame my words to shield my lieutenant from repercussions.”

The text was laden with raw frustration and caustic insults.

Reading it, I couldn’t help but recall the colorful swearing from my previous life. The juxtaposition of such language with someone like Eiker was startling.

Until now, I had thought of Eiker as the quintessential tragic hero—a man who loved his homeland but was betrayed by it.

Such heroes are often strict in a military sense but reserved in private life, keeping their personal struggles buried deep.

Yet here he was, pouring all his emotions into what was essentially a diary. Publishing this must have been a contentious decision, given how personal it was.

Still, it was likely preserved in The Sanctum because Eiker was an elf, and The Sanctum’s purpose was to store every book in existence.

“Does that mean very few people have read this?”

Records related to Eiker were scarce, aside from a few mentioning his imprisonment for disrupting supply lines.

Most texts focused on his reputation as a “tragic hero” rather than delving into personal aspects like this one.

In Zenon’s Biography, I had modeled a character, Ludden, after Eiker.

Ludden, a dark elf hero, had merged with Aier to annihilate the demons before perishing alongside the divided World Tree that had become a remnant of Diablos.

He was the epitome of a hero—calm, composed, and steadfast.

But Eiker, as revealed through this autobiography, was his polar opposite.

While Eiker’s autobiography showed him to be a jovial and approachable person, he was fiercely strict when it came to military conduct.

This wasn’t because he was an elf but because he was a soldier. He was an enlightened figure for his time, despite being from an older generation.

Of course, being an autobiography, certain details needed to be taken with a grain of salt. People, regardless of race, tend to portray themselves more favorably.

Eiker was ultimately a hero born out of time. If he had been born in this era, he would undoubtedly have become a major asset to Alvenheim.

“Such a shame,” I muttered, genuinely lamenting the waste of talent.

What made it even more frustrating was that Eiker’s insults were directed only at individuals, not at Alvenheim itself.

This demonstrated that he wasn’t just loyal to people but a true patriot who cared deeply for his nation.

Moreover, his curiosity about humans had led him to study them extensively—a talent that Alvenheim should never have let slip away.

I’d heard he was currently living in seclusion. Perhaps I could meet him someday.

Though if I were to request a meeting, he might reluctantly agree. But I didn’t want to force someone to come out against their will.

“Hm?”

As I tried to refocus on the book, I suddenly felt an intense gaze from the side.

Previously engrossed, I hadn’t noticed, but this was blatant staring.

Turning my head, I looked to see who it was.

“…”
“…”

It was Thor. A long-eared Thor was staring at me.

A beard connecting to sideburns, deep-set eyes, and a sharp nose.

His bright blue eyes were filled with curiosity, and his shoulder-length hair gave him the appearance of a Viking warrior.

This elf, who looked just like the god of thunder from movies in my past life, was staring intently at me.

Usually, elves—male or female—are known for their ethereal beauty. But this elf was more ruggedly handsome than beautiful.

Not that he was unattractive—he exuded the aura of a masculine, imposing man. The kind who seemed destined to wield axes in both hands.

“…Hello?”

His intense stare made me feel awkward, so I decided to greet him casually.

The elf alternated his gaze between the book I was holding and my face before speaking in a low voice.

“Are you Zenon, by chance?”

Wow. His voice was incredibly sexy.

The deep baritone resonated in my ears, making me feel as though I had entered a cavern.

Usually, voices like his might not match such a striking appearance, but this Thor—no, this elf—had a voice that perfectly complemented his looks.

I don’t know how my own voice comes across, but I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of envy.

Regardless, I needed to answer him.

“Yes, that’s correct.”
“I see. Your red hair is as striking as I’ve heard. You’re quite handsome as well.”
“Th-thank you.”

I’d heard similar compliments countless times before, but hearing it spoken aloud made me blush unexpectedly.

Moreover, hearing it from an elf, of all people, seemed to amplify the effect.

I awkwardly scratched my head and then glanced at the book the elf was holding.

“A history book. But…”

Why does it look so small? I rubbed my eyes, unable to believe what I was seeing.

I couldn’t tell if the book itself was small or if the elf’s sheer size made it appear that way, but the proportions felt off.

It didn’t look like a notebook, yet how could a book appear so tiny?

Even though I was considered well-built from consistent exercise, this elf’s physique was comparable to my father’s.

“Do you have a strong interest in history?”

As I was gauging his impressive build, his deep voice pierced my thoughts again.

His somewhat archaic manner of speech felt unique but suited the atmosphere perfectly.

“Yes, I’m not just interested—I genuinely enjoy the subject.”
“Which period intrigues you the most?”
“At the moment, I’m particularly interested in the Species War. It was the first time humans challenged the elves and marked the beginning of a significant shift.”
“A shift… Yes, that’s an accurate observation.”

The elf nodded in agreement, signaling that he shared my perspective.

Despite his warrior-like appearance, he seemed deeply interested in history.

“Ah, just to clarify, I’m not a strange person. I was simply curious because a famous figure who has shaken the world is sitting right next to me reading a book.”
“That’s understandable. Are you interested in history yourself?”
“I’m more interested in races. Specifically, I’ve been studying humans in depth.”
“Humans?”
“Yes. A race born weak but with nowhere to go but upward.”

His concise summary of humanity’s inherent fragility and their contrasting achievements left me quietly impressed.

I nodded in acknowledgment of his insight.

“What about elves?”
“They are a race born at the peak, unable to see what lies below.”
“You’ve analyzed them quite astutely.”

When I voiced my admiration, the elf smiled softly.

When expressionless, he seemed stoic, but that smile revealed a cheerful side to him.

“Is that book interesting?”

The elf nodded toward the book I was holding—Eiker’s autobiography.

To be honest, it was fascinating. Beyond its critical perspective on elves, it provided a vivid understanding of Eiker as a person.

Despite being labeled a tragic hero, he wasn’t solemn all the time. He had a vibrant, humorous side, which was surprising.

Thinking about it, a character resembling this elf had a similar personality in Zenon’s Biography.

“Yes, it’s very engaging. As you probably know, Eiker is often referred to as a tragic hero. However, most records focus solely on the events surrounding him, with little personal insight. This book fills in those gaps, making it all the more valuable.”
“I see. Then, what’s your opinion of him? As someone like Zenon, your evaluation piques my curiosity.”
“I haven’t finished reading yet, but…”

Though I hadn’t completed the book, I already had a solid understanding of who Eiker was.

Recalling that striking opening sentence, I turned to the expectant elf and gave my answer.

“A patriot. That single word sums him up perfectly.”
“A patriot?”
“Yes. Alvenheim may have abandoned Eiker, but he didn’t abandon his homeland. While he insults the elves as ‘pointy-eared,’ he never once condemns Alvenheim. Even though his country betrayed him, he remained loyal—a true patriot in every sense.”
“A patriot…”

The word seemed to resonate deeply with him. The elf gazed upward, his expression contemplative.

In the meantime, a thought crossed my mind, and I carefully asked, “By the way, I don’t think I caught your name. May I know what it is?”
“Hm? My name?”
“Yes.”

The elf stared at me for a moment before letting out a faint smile.

Then, in his deep, resonant voice, he introduced himself.

“Eiker.”
“Oh, I see—wait, what?”
“Eiker Lightsinger.”

The elf who looked like Thor…

“I’m the author of that book.”
“…What?”

The legendary "insult artist" was sitting right in front of me.