Two hundred years since I became an elf.
I have long forgotten who I used to be, and what my name was...
I witnessed the Elven Holy Court fall after being swept into the continent's conflicts. I watched the crown of the human empire pass from one clan to another, and once joined an expedition to slay monsters...
These events might amount to no more than a few scraps of paper in a historian's records on this continent steeped in magic and prayer...
Though as insignificant as fallen leaves, to me they are memories as bitter and fragrant as malt liquor.
I have seen the church's devout knights raise their swords against commoners, and I have seen the most sincere purity in those blackened depths.
My hands have been stained with sins that can never be washed away. The things I once longed for have become fading shadows... I have hated, loved, resisted, and surrendered. I have met people and said goodbye to them, until at last I was left alone, carrying all my feelings as I journeyed on...
"The last bloodline of the elven royal family," "Apostle of Chaos Magic," "Mouthpiece of the gods," "White Reaper." The continent's rumors about me are divided.
But...
I don't care.
All I know is that in this hard-won era of peace, I don't want to take up those titles again.
I only want to live a quiet life, listening to everyone's stories and complaints about their day in the tavern of this border town. Holding on to this happiness within my reach is my greatest wish and joy...
That alone is enough.
