That was incredible, Byron," Lars said, walking beside him as they made their way down from the wall. His voice was filled with admiration, and he kept glancing back over his shoulder, as if he still couldn't believe what he had just seen.
In the distance, they could still see the bodies of the demons that had been slain by the Lycan Valkyries, lying motionless on the road. The sight was a reminder of the danger that was always present, but also of the strength and skill of the warriors who protected New Earth.
Claude, walking on the other side of Byron, also watched with obvious fascination, his eyes thoughtful as he thought about the battle they had just witnessed.
"So it's not just the male lycans who are dangerous…" he said, a half-smile playing on his lips. "Their women are just as formidable."
Byron laughed lightly, a warm, genuine sound that echoed through the corridor. "Everyone has different abilities," he said, his voice calm and steady as they continued walking.
"Men tend to be stronger, more impulsive… even more reckless. We're built for close combat, for charging into battle, for using our strength to overpower our enemies. But women are different. They're more detail-oriented, more patient. They observe, they analyze, they plan before they act."
He pointed back toward the wall, toward the place where the Valkyries had stood just moments before. "That's why the bow and the crossbow are their natural elements. They're precise. Meticulous. They don't waste a single movement or a single ounce of energy. Every shot counts, every arrow finds its mark."
Then he added with pride, his voice filled with affection for his people: "That's why the Valkyries are the first line of defense of our clan. They are the eyes and the ears of Luparia, and they are the ones who strike first when danger comes."
Lars nodded, looking impressed. "Wow… that's really interesting. I never thought about it that way before. But seeing them in action, I can see exactly what you mean. They were amazing."
Suddenly, he seemed to remember something, and he turned to look at Claude, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. "And you don't know what I saw this morning."
Claude raised an eyebrow, looking at the dwarf with interest. "What did you see?"
Lars frowned, trying to remember the word, his brow furrowed in concentration as he searched his memory. "There was this thing… what was it called? Uh… cuella… cuella…"
Byron smiled, recognizing the word that the dwarf was trying to say. "School."
"That's it!" Lars exclaimed, his face breaking into a wide grin. "School!"
He pointed toward the interior of the fortress, toward the area where the buildings for learning and culture were located. "That's where humans and lycans study together. They learn history… they learn how to write… and this really strange thing they call mathematics."
Claude looked intrigued, his curiosity piqued. "Mathematics?"
"Yes, yes," Lars said, waving his hands around as he tried to explain, his movements animated and enthusiastic. "It's something like… one plus one is three… or no… one plus one is two."
Byron let out a loud laugh, shaking his head at the dwarf's description. "One plus one is two, Lars," he said, his voice amused but gentle.
"That's it! That's exactly it!" Lars said, looking proud that he had remembered correctly. "And there's also a class where the kids learn how to fight. Something called… kendu… and another thing… karate."
Byron nodded, confirming the words. "Kendo and karate."
"That's the same thing."
"They're human disciplines," Byron explained, his voice calm and informative. "Martial arts that humans developed a long time ago, centuries ago, as a way to defend themselves, to discipline their minds and their bodies. We've adapted them and perfected them for hand-to-hand combat, making them even more effective for our people."
As they talked, Elbron walked a few steps behind them, his presence quiet and unobtrusive. He remained silent, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were fixed on Byron's black sword, as if he were lost in thought, as if he were thinking about something that was weighing on his mind.
Walking beside him was the priestess of the elven clan, leaning on her staff, her old but steady steps keeping pace with the others. She was a wise woman, with eyes that had seen many years and many battles, and she had a sharp tongue that was not afraid to speak her mind.
The old woman looked at the wall, at the place where the Valkyries had fought, and then she smiled ironically, a small, knowing smile that played on her lips.
"Well… finally a clan that understands that women are not just here to procreate and raise children," she said, her voice dry but not unkind.
She nudged Elbron lightly with her shoulder, a playful gesture that made the dark elf turn to look at her with a scowl. "Maybe you should learn to see women in a different way too."
Then she added with a mischievous smile, her eyes twinkling with amusement: "Remember that a little red-haired girl kicked your butt in front of everyone."
Elbron stopped in his tracks, his body tensing up at her words. He looked at her with an expression that was a mixture of hatred and disgust, his eyes flashing with anger.
"Don't even mention it," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "That damned brat is going to pay for what she did to me. I'll make her regret the day she was born."
The old woman let out a loud laugh, her voice ringing through the corridor, unafraid of the dark elf's anger. "Oh, really? And how exactly are you going to do that?"
She leaned toward him, her face filled with mockery, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Are you going to bend down so she can kick you again?"
She laughed again, shaking her head at him. "Or are you planning to throw a bucket of water on her to put her out?"
Elbron shook his head, looking exasperated. "You're impossible," he muttered, turning away from her, as if he couldn't bear to look at her anymore.
Then he murmured under his breath, so quietly that only she could hear: "I don't know who is worse… that dog Byron or you, crazy old woman."
The priestess laughed heartily, her laughter filling the air as they continued walking, clearly enjoying teasing the dark elf.
Suddenly, she raised her voice, calling out to Byron, who was walking a few steps ahead of them. "By the way, Byron… this thing about the school sounds interesting."
Byron stopped and turned toward her, his expression calm and attentive. "Yes?"
"Do you think this old woman could go and see some of those classes?" she asked, her voice curious but also a little hesitant, as if she weren't sure if she would be welcome.
Byron looked at her with a calm smile, his eyes warm and welcoming. "Of course."
He pointed toward the center of the fortress, toward the building that housed the school. "The school is a place to learn… but also to share knowledge. It's open to everyone, no matter what race they are, no matter how old they are."
The old woman frowned, looking confused by his words. "Share knowledge?" she repeated, as if she weren't sure what he meant.
"Maybe you would like to teach something," Byron suggested, his voice gentle but encouraging.
"Teach?" the woman said, looking even more confused. "What could I possibly teach? I'm just an old elf who knows a few old tricks."
Byron answered calmly, his voice filled with respect. "We have a hospital where humans are training doctors, where they are learning how to heal the sick and the injured, how to save lives."
"Healing…" she murmured, her voice soft, as if the word brought back memories of her own people's traditions.
"But you elves dominate healing magic," Byron continued, his voice steady and sincere. "And you also have a deep knowledge of herbs: how to use them to stop bleeding, to purify the body, to strengthen it, to cure diseases that humans don't even have names for. That knowledge is very valuable, more valuable than you can imagine. It could help so many people."
The old woman smiled, a warm, genuine smile that softened her face. "Well… you're a lycan with far too much vision," she said, leaning on her staff, looking at him with new respect.
"I think you were born in the wrong race. You should have been an elf."
Byron laughed, shaking his head at her words. "That would be difficult," he said, his voice amused.
Then he added with a wild smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes: "I like flying heads and seeing torsos fly through the air when I get angry far too much to be an elf."
The old woman laughed, nodding in agreement. "Yes… you definitely wouldn't be a good elf."
She thought for a few seconds, her expression thoughtful as she considered his offer. "I'll think about it. Maybe one of my apprentices could go, or maybe I'll go myself. I have a lot of knowledge that I've accumulated over the years, and it would be a shame to let it die with me."
Her eyes lit up with excitement as she thought about the possibility. "We could even write a book about our herbs, about how to use them, about their properties. That way, the knowledge would be preserved, and it could help people for generations to come."
Byron nodded enthusiastically, his face lighting up with joy at her words. "That would be magnificent. It would be a great gift for all of us."
The old woman clapped her hands together, looking pleased with the idea. "Excellent. That way, I won't feel useless here in this fortress. I'll have something to do, something to contribute."
They continued walking, moving deeper into the fortress, toward the center of the settlement where life was bustling with activity.
Then Lars spoke up again, turning to look at Byron, his expression curious and a little hesitant. "Hey, Byron…"
"Yes?" Byron said, looking at the dwarf.
"That thing they call mathematics… can anyone learn it?" Lars asked, his voice filled with uncertainty, as if he were worried that it was something that only humans or lycans could understand.
"Of course," Byron said, nodding firmly. "Anyone can learn it. It's just a way of thinking, a way of understanding the world around us, of understanding numbers and patterns."
"Even a dwarf?" Lars asked, looking at him with hope in his eyes.
"Absolutely," Byron said, his voice warm and reassuring. "Dwarves are very smart, very practical. You would be great at mathematics. It's all about counting, about measuring, about building things. That's exactly what dwarves do."
Lars scratched his beard, looking thoughtful as he considered Byron's words. "Maybe some of my clan should learn it," he said, his voice slow but determined.
He looked toward the walls, toward the workshops where the dwarves worked, creating weapons, tools, and buildings. "It could help us manage what we produce better… what we make. We could keep track of our supplies, of our materials, of how much we need to build things. It would make our work easier, more efficient."
Byron thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "I'll talk to the council of teachers," he said, his voice firm. "I'm sure they would be more than happy to have dwarves join the classes. And I think the dwarves would have a lot to teach the other students too."
Then he added, looking at Lars with a smile: "But I would like you to share something too."
"Share?" Lars said, looking confused. "What do you mean?"
"Yes," Byron said, explaining his idea. "We have workshops where we produce clothes, tools, and weapons. We have people who work hard every day to make things that we need to survive, to protect ourselves, to build our home."
"That's what we dwarves do," Lars replied, his voice proud. "We're makers. We know how to work with stone, with metal, with wood. We know how to create things that are strong, that last a long time."
"Then you could help us improve the processes," Byron said, his voice excited. "Help us make things more efficiently, more quickly, more effectively. You could teach us your techniques, your secrets, your ways of working."
"Processes?" Lars said, frowning, looking confused by the word.
"Making things better," Byron said, simplifying the explanation for the dwarf.
Lars smiled, understanding what he meant. "I get it. That sounds good. We'd be happy to help. We like working with our hands, and we like sharing what we know. If we can help make things better for everyone, then we'll do it."
Claude spoke up then, joining the conversation, his voice thoughtful and enthusiastic. "The idea of a school where the different races share knowledge is fascinating. It's something that I never thought I would see in my lifetime."
He looked at Byron, his eyes filled with respect. "Dragons have always valued knowledge. We believe that knowledge is power, that it's something that should be cherished and passed down from generation to generation. This school is exactly the kind of thing that dragons would support."
Then he turned to look at the old dragon, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Old man, you have thousands of stories. You've lived through so many events, seen so many things, met so many people. You would be an excellent history teacher."
Claude looked at him, surprised by the comment, his expression a mixture of flattery and offense. "Boy… I don't know whether to feel flattered or offended. Calling me an old man… that's a bit rude, don't you think?"
Byron laughed, shaking his head at the dragon's words. "It depends on how you look at it," he said, his voice amused. "Being called old is a sign of respect, of wisdom. It means that you have lived a long life, that you have learned a lot, that you have something to offer."
They continued walking, moving through the corridors of the fortress, talking and laughing, enjoying each other's company.
Then Elbron spoke, his voice quiet but clear, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.
"Those karate classes you mentioned…"
Everyone stopped in their tracks, turning to look at the dark elf, surprised that he had spoken up. It was the first time that the dark elf had shown interest in something outside of his own culture, something that belonged to another race.
Byron looked at him, his expression calm but curious. "Do you want to see them?"
Elbron nodded slowly, his expression serious, his eyes thoughtful. "The way those women moved with the bow… the precision, the grace, the efficiency…"
His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he were remembering the battle they had just witnessed. "It looks a lot like our elven attacks. The way we move, the way we strike, the way we use our bodies and our minds to defeat our enemies."
He paused for a moment, looking at Byron, his voice serious. "It would be interesting to compare that knowledge, to see what we can learn from each other, to see if there are ways to make our fighting skills even better."
Everyone looked at him, surprised by his words, by the openness that he was showing. They had never expected to hear something like that from the dark elf, who had always been so proud, so closed off, so convinced that his own culture was superior to all others.
Elbron frowned, looking at their surprised faces, his expression a little defensive. "What?" he said, his voice sharp. "Is it so strange that I would want to learn something new? Is it so strange that I would want to make myself stronger, to make my people stronger?"
Claude spoke finally, shaking his head in disbelief, his eyes filled with wonder. "I've lived for more than a thousand years…" he said, his voice soft but clear.
He shook his head again, as if he still couldn't believe what he was seeing. "And I thought I would never see this."
He looked at Byron, his eyes filled with amazement. "A dark elf who is curious about learning from another race. That's something that I never thought I would witness in my lifetime."