How To Live As A Writer In A Fantasy World

As I may have mentioned before, the most racially discriminatory term you can use against an elf is “pointy ears.”

Elves’ elongated ears are believed to serve as a sacred means of deeper communication with the gods.

Making a mockery of them naturally strikes a nerve. Imagine the extent of this insult: even if I casually joked about it with Arwen, it could spell the end of our relationship. Initially, it might be dismissed as a slip of the tongue or a joke, but after that, there would be no forgiveness.

If this is enough to ruin a romantic relationship, what do you think would happen if it were said to a stranger?

It would not be surprising if the person insulted responded by killing the offender on the spot and was granted leniency for it.

This term is arguably as offensive to elves as the “N-word” is to Black people in human history. “Pointy ears” is the ultimate insult and wound to elves.

However, there is an exception for dark elves.

Since they detest their elven heritage to the point of cutting off their own ears, they are largely indifferent to the term.

On a side note, humans are surprisingly less sensitive to racially discriminatory remarks.

This is likely because they are keenly aware of their own status as one of the weakest races.

Anyway, let’s turn to the history book authored by Eiker.

Right from the opening line, he hurled the harshest insult at his fellow elves.

Despite being an elf himself, he chose to include such a racially offensive term at the very beginning.

How much resentment must have been festering within him to do so?

‘I’d be furious too.’

Honestly, I can’t blame him.

Given the humiliation Eiker endured, it’s understandable.

Their allies underestimated their opponents, only to suffer repeated defeats.

Desperate to change course, Eiker proposed alternative strategies, but the Elders found fault with him instead.

Worse yet, they imprisoned him for allegedly violating the law, resulting in a humiliating defeat for Alvenheim.

Although the nation wasn’t overthrown and peace was eventually negotiated, the terms of the treaty were tantamount to a complete loss.

If they had followed Eiker’s suggestions, Alvenheim could have avoided the unfavorable clauses in the treaty.

These included opening their holy sites to outsiders, teaching magic to others, and committing to unconditional openness for the next 100 years.

[300 years ago, humans revered Alvenheim as the land of the gods. We treated them like livestock within our domain, believing it was only natural.]

[But look at the present. Are they still mere livestock? These beings are intelligent creatures, capable of rebuilding their civilization from the ruins of the Demon War.]

[Furthermore, they survived the Demon War without going extinct. Even when they fall, they never surrender. Even when they kneel, they do not bow. Even if they bow, they do not break.]

[In contrast, we elves have never knelt to anyone except the gods. Our confidence turned into arrogance, and that arrogance eroded us from within. The results were made clear in the war.]

[If humans were still as weak as they once were, it wouldn’t matter. But I realized that demons had taught humans magic.]

[Yet those pointy-eared fools in the Elders’ Council refused to believe me. They didn’t even try to understand why demons would help humans. Instead, they focused solely on how my actions violated their antiquated ‘laws.’]

The overall content reads more like a memoir than a history book, filled with criticism of the elves.

While Eiker occasionally speaks favorably of humans, it is tempered by his experiences in war.

Still, he raises questions about how humans managed to stand on equal footing with elves, what fuels their resilience, and why they are so determined. Eiker presents hypotheses based on his observations, creating a history book that transcends mere record-keeping.

[I protested vehemently. Human tactics were becoming more sophisticated, causing significant damage to us. I suggested preemptive strikes or, if killing felt too barbaric, using magic to disrupt their supply lines.]

[But those pointy-eared bastards rejected the idea, calling starvation one of the most barbaric acts. They insisted that Alvenheim had no need for ‘tactics’ and demanded we stick to pure defense.]

[But did they know? Alvenheim had never fought a true ‘war’ among ourselves, aside from expelling the dark elves, which was more of a political maneuver. Meanwhile, humans built their civilization through countless wars, honing strategies far superior to ours.]

[Sometimes fools say, “If you imitate your enemy, you become like them.” The pointy-eared ones said the same, claiming that we, blessed by the gods, should never stoop to such base tactics. We must always act with noble intentions.]

[What nonsense. This is war—a place where swords, spears, and deadly magic are exchanged without a shred of nobility. Yet my superiors, and even some of my subordinates, spouted this nonsense.

My only saving grace was my lieutenant, but even he couldn’t change much under such leadership.]

Eiker’s frustration is palpable, filled with biting profanity.

It’s surprising to see such earthy expressions from someone like him, especially in a world where he has adapted to the customs.

Until now, I had seen Eiker as a tragic hero—a patriot who loved his homeland but was betrayed by it.

Heroes like this are often stoic in public but keep their personal anguish buried deep.

In this memoir, however, he pours out his emotions unabashedly.

This makes it feel more like a personal diary than a publishable book.

Perhaps that’s why it ended up stored in a sacred archive rather than widely distributed.

After all, as an elf, Eiker’s work aligns with the archive’s mission of preserving all written knowledge.

‘Does that mean very few people have read this?’

Records about Eiker are sparse, with most texts merely noting that he was imprisoned for cutting off supply lines.

Works focusing on his personal struggles are virtually nonexistent, aside from this one. Eiker even inspired a character named Luden in The Chronicles of Zenon.

Luden, a hero of the dark elves, merges with Eir to annihilate the demons and sacrifices himself alongside the World Tree, which had become tainted by Diabolus.

Calm and composed, Luden represents the ideal hero.

“In contrast, Eiker was the complete opposite.”

In his memoir, Eiker comes across as a laid-back, jovial man who was fiercely disciplined only in matters of military law.

This wasn’t because he was an elf, but because he was a soldier—a progressive thinker for his time.

Still, one must take parts of the memoir with a grain of salt.

People, regardless of race, tend to be lenient with their self-portrayals.

In any case, Eiker was a hero born in the wrong era.

Had he lived in the current age, he would undoubtedly have been a great asset to Alvenheim.

‘Such a pity.’

I clicked my tongue in genuine regret.

What’s even more tragic is that despite the frequent use of the term “pointy ears,” Eiker never once speaks ill of Alvenheim itself.

This suggests that his loyalty wasn’t to individuals but to the nation itself—a true patriot.

Furthermore, his curiosity about humans led him to study them extensively, making him an irreplaceable talent.

I heard you’re currently staying in your mansion in seclusion, but I hope we can meet someday.

Of course, if I asked to meet you, you’d probably reluctantly agree.

But I don’t want to force someone who doesn’t want to come out to do so.

“…?”

Just as I was about to focus on my book again, I suddenly felt a strong gaze from the side.

I hadn’t noticed earlier because I was so engrossed, but with how intense it felt, it must be someone blatantly staring at me.

I turned my head to see who it was.

“…”

It was an elf.

A tall, long-eared elf was staring at me.

He had sideburns that connected to a beard, deeply set eyes, a sharp nose, and blue eyes filled with curiosity.

His shoulder-length hair made him resemble a Viking warrior, or perhaps the thunder god from a past life’s movie.

This elf, who looked just like that god, was staring straight at me.

Elves, whether male or female, are usually known for their strikingly beautiful appearances.

However, this one wasn’t conventionally beautiful but had a ruggedly masculine look instead.

Not unattractive by any means—he had the aura of a strong man, the kind you’d imagine wielding an axe in both hands.

“… Hello?”

Feeling awkward under his heavy gaze, I greeted him simply.

At that, the elf glanced back and forth between my face and the book I was holding before speaking quietly.

“Are you, by any chance, Zenon?”

Wow.

That voice. So deep and sultry.

It resonated in my ears like a low rumble in a cave, perfectly matching his appearance.

Usually, when someone looks like that, their voice doesn’t fit, but this elf—no, this Thor-like figure—had a voice that was a perfect match.

I couldn’t help but feel envious.

“Well… Yes, that’s me.”

“As I’ve heard, your red hair is quite striking. And you have a remarkable appearance as well.”

“Th-thank you.”

Though I’ve received such compliments countless times, hearing them directly still made me feel bashful.

It felt doubly flattering to hear it from an elf.

Scratching my head in embarrassment, I glanced at the book he was holding.

“A history book… but why does it look so small?”

The book the elf was holding seemed oddly small in his hands.

Either the book was genuinely small, or his large frame made it appear so. It felt surreal, like he was holding a pocket diary.

Even though I’ve always considered myself to have a sturdy build, this elf could rival my father’s physique.

“Are you interested in history?”

Just as I was estimating his impressive build, that deep voice resonated again.

His speech, with a slightly archaic tone, perfectly suited the atmosphere.

“Yes, it’s not just an interest—it’s my favorite subject.”

“What era fascinates you the most?”

“I’m particularly interested in the Race Wars. It was a monumental turning point when humans first challenged the elves, signaling the start of significant change.”

“Change, you say… That’s a fair perspective.”

The elf nodded, showing his agreement.

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

“By the way, just so you know, I’m not some odd fellow. I was simply curious because a renowned figure like you was reading right beside me.”

“I understand. Are you very interested in history?”

“Not so much history itself, but the races that make it. Especially humans.”

“Humans?”

“Yes. A race born weak but with no path but to rise.”

He succinctly summarized humanity’s innate frailty and their accomplishments in spite of it.

I admired his eloquence and nodded.

“And what about elves?”

“They’re a race born at the highest point, unable to see below.”

“An astute observation.”

When I praised his insight, the elf smiled softly.

Though he had seemed stern while expressionless, his smile made him appear unexpectedly amiable.

“Is that book interesting?”

He gestured toward the book I was holding.

It was an autobiography by Eiker, a historical figure.

To be honest, it was fascinating. While critical of elves, it provided a deeper understanding of the man himself.

“Yes. As you know, Eiker is remembered as a tragic hero.

But most accounts focus on the events surrounding him, rarely delving into his personal thoughts. This book does, and I think it’s fantastic.”

“I see. Then what’s your assessment of him? Coming from the renowned Zenon, I’m curious.”

“I haven’t finished it yet, but…”

Though I hadn’t completed the book, I’d long since grasped the essence of who Eiker was. Recalling the powerful opening sentence, I answered the expectant elf.

“A patriot. That one word sums him up.”

“A patriot?”

“Yes. Alvenheim may have abandoned him, but Eiker never abandoned Albenheim.

Even while cursing the elves who scorned him, he never spoke ill of his homeland.

He remained loyal to his country despite its betrayal—a true patriot in every sense.”

“A patriot…”

The elf seemed lost in thought, gazing upward as if pondering the weight of the word. Taking this moment, I cautiously asked something that had crossed my mind.

“By the way, I just realized I don’t know your name. May I ask what it is?”

“Hmm? My name?”

“Yes.”

The elf looked at me for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. In his distinctive deep voice, he enunciated his name clearly.

“Eiker.”

“Oh, I see. Wait—what?”

“Eiker Lightsinger. The author of that book.”

“…”

The very subject of the book I was reading was standing before me.

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