Three days later.
Aeon walked the halls of his family's mansion,
tracing with his eyes the brick walls that had, over the years, become naturally saturated with mana—a process that not only significantly hardened each stone but also gave the walls an ancient yet timeless feel.
When he finally arrived at the library's giant doors—
"Young master."
The guards greeted him with respectful bows, which Aeon acknowledged with a nod before pushing through the doors.
Although somewhat used to it, the sheer size of the library and its endless shelves of books always baffled him.
'Perks of living a long life, I guess,' Aeon muttered inwardly.
He didn't really know the exact years his parents had lived,
but he knew that among noble houses it was an open secret that his parents were considered a really old couple.
He'd also noticed the way people respected his mother and father—not just for being the past Sacred Tree's priestess and the former king's brother,
but also because of their ranks and their respective mastery of their crafts.
He'd once asked his mother why they only came together so late in life, despite the fact that they'd been enamored with each other since their youth,
and was told: 'Because only maidens are worthy of serving the Sacred Tree.'
"Aeon."
Aeon looked upward and noticed his father among the towering shelves, flying down gently towards him, accompanied by rolls of levitating books like will-o'-wisps to a tree.
Commonly, to tell the age of an elf far past his prime, you simply had to check for signs of graying hair,
or feel their vital aura for hints of degradation.
But Aeon's parents had always carried lustrous hair and a vibrant vital aura far stronger than that of most youths—
despite being, without a doubt, ancients.
Finally on the floor, Aegnor walked towards Aeon and ruffled his hair with a smile on his face.
"Is there a reason you've come for me?" Aegnor asked with his thick elven accent—
the kind you only heard elven elders who have walked since the Fourth Era,
a dead giveaway of his age.
"Who's looking for you?" Aeon shot back, arms crossed tightly over his small chest,
his brows furrowed in a frown—though the effect only made him look more adorable to his father.
"I've come for the books."
"The library isn't just yours, you know."
"Ahh, seems I have unintentionally offended you," Aegnor said, then paused, one arm crossed and the other cupping his chin in thought.
"How about I make it up to you with a trip into fae realm?"
Aeon, barely paying attention to his father, looked toward the books floating around him.
The one closest to him, a gray tome with thick covers, read Human Anatomy in elven script.
He looked towards other covers and noticed various titles, both vague and explicit, all related to humans.
The largest one among them was almost half his own size in length,
and on its edges were boldly written letters in the common language that read The Human Continent.
"Why the sudden interest in humans?" Aeon asked curiously.
"Well, the barrier around our continent is going to be deactivated very soon," Aegnor replied.
"And delegates from our side will be sent out to re-establish contact with the outside world."
Aeon raised his head slowly to his father, genuine shock in his eyes.
As far as he knew, the barrier had always been there.
It stretched wide around the elven continent,
far enough to cover the nearby scattered islands.
It went deep into the ocean and rose high into the sky,
enclosing the continent in a massive, transparent sphere of mana.
It had stood for almost three hundred years.
And now—
"That can't be right," Aeon muttered.
"Many have had the same shock as you, and most are really reluctant," Aegnor said casually, as if he hadn't just dropped a bomb.
"Reconnaissance sent out last century discovered unimaginable growth and progress out there—especially among humans.
I'd wager that even at this very moment, new knowledge is still being discovered.
And if we don't act now, the elven race might find itself years behind others."
"Humans?" Aeon asked, paying attention to the only part that interested him.
"Believe it or not, they've grown both economically and martially to deserve a seat among the other four top hegemon races of mankind."
Aeon's mind short-circuited for a moment before he tried to process the shock.
'Mankind's hegemon races consisted of elves, mermen, giants, dwarves… and now humans?'
He knew from lessons with his father that it took not only population and wealth to rise above countless other races and be considered a hegemon,
but also the presence of three widely acknowledged sovereigns—individuals who had reached the mythical rank of [SSS].
"And that's not all," Aegnor continued.
"It's not?" Aeon looked impatiently at his father, watching the old man pause with a grin for dramatic effect.
"They've somehow engineered a machine capable of portalling large amounts of goods and people instantly from one continent to another."
'Now I'm sure,' Aeon thought grimly.
'The old man has definitely gone insane.'
"Hey, don't give me that look. What I say is true," Aegnor quipped after noticing the skeptical glare his son gave him.
Aeon still looked doubtful, because despite being young, he was well aware how significant such an achievement was.
Journeying from one continent to another, even with the aid of spatial mages well-versed in teleportation spells, would take no less than fifteen years—and that was one way, not a round-trip.
Only with the aid of an archmage could such a journey be significantly shortened,
yet even then, it was impossible to commercialize because of the limited carry load of an archmage,
not to mention how rare space-element archmages were.
"And you're sure it's from humans, not dwarves… or gnomes?" Aeon pressed, unconvinced.
"Well, the barrier officially deactivates six months from now.
"And who knows—maybe one day you might get the chance to explore beyond our continent and see things for yourself," Aegnor replied with a barely noticeable smirk.
Aeon, already feeling a slight headache, completely ignored his father,
walking right past him towards the books he needed to prepare himself for his first year at school.