The realization hit the crowd like a wave of ice water.
They had assumed that the horrors of Luca's world were contained there.
That the weapons he brought were anomalies, curiosities from somewhere so far away they might as well be from another dimension.
They had lived in a comfortable bubble, believing that what couldn't reach them couldn't hurt them.
But Luca was telling them that bubble was an illusion.
The humans on the other continent would progress.
They would advance through the same stages Luca's ancestors had.
They would discover gunpowder, develop firearms, refine them over generations.
And eventually—maybe in decades, maybe in centuries, but eventually—they would hold weapons like the one in Luca's hand.
Weapons that could tear through wooden walls like paper.
Weapons that could turn a village into a graveyard in seconds.
Weapons that could end the elf race entirely.
The horror of it settled over the crowd like a physical weight.
