Mana Addiction

Heading south from the City of Alchemy, the scenery grew more breathtaking with every step. The desolate wilderness gradually gave way to a vibrant sea of blooms, where meticulously maintained roads balanced artistic elegance with efficient transit. Continuing forward revealed an even more enchanting panorama: rolling hills cloaked in lush green, where woodlands and concealed architecture blended seamlessly—the finest example of natural landscape harmonizing with architectural aesthetics. This was the Silvermoon High Court, the realm of the elves. In the past, an endless stream of visitors had journeyed to the Silvermoon High Court each year simply to catch a glimpse of its wonders. Yet that was a long time ago. Ever since the prices of magical materials began to skyrocket, the elven race had entered a state of semi-isolation, barring virtually all outsiders from entering. Anyone who forced their way in was detained among the elves. Lately, the only ones traveling this picturesque road were elves—heavily armed elves. The Twilight Guard had been mobilized in full, split into elite squads that advanced into the territory of the City of Alchemy. These elites easily breached the lords' defensive lines and thrust magical contracts before them. As more and more lords signed the pacts, many Twilight Guards returned smoothly to the Silvermoon High Court to deliver their reports. Inside the Queen's Palace at the highest peak of the Silvermoon High Court, the Elven Queen, Catherine, wore a simple white robe. With her bare, unadorned face, she looked less like a sovereign and more like an ordinary elven maiden who had just woken and had not yet found time to groom herself. Yet even without any adornment, her beauty was enough to make any renowned beauty pale in comparison. The elven race was blessed by nature. Every elf possessed a beauty far beyond the reach of other races, and Catherine was an exquisite beauty whom even other elves envied. From the moment of her birth, the elves had known she was destined to become their new queen. This was not because the elves cared solely for appearances, but because a more beautiful elf signified one more deeply favored by the gods. And indeed, Catherine had displayed extraordinary talent from a young age; whether in magic or the arts, her gifts far surpassed those of her peers. Later, she smoothly ascended to become a legend, and amid universal acclaim, the old king personally crowned her as the new queen. Nor had she failed her people's expectations. During her reign, she resolved numerous crises for the elven race with distinction. Matters like the phaerimm calamity and the magical beast wars—disasters of catastrophic proportions for other kingdoms—were effortlessly quelled under her leadership. Originally, Catherine would have been etched into the chronicles of the Silvermoon High Court as a truly great queen. And yet... life was never without its cruel twists. Catherine sat upon a long bench forged of gold, staring blankly at the map before her. It depicted the entire territory of the City of Alchemy, shaped roughly like an irregular parallelogram. To the north of the City of Alchemy lay the vast Golden Desert, while to the south lay the Silvermoon High Court. Now, the City of Alchemy existed in name only. Pincer-gripped between the two great realms, its annexation was merely a matter of time. Across the map, numerous patches were shaded emerald green. These were the lands that had already signed magical contracts. Though scattered and piecemeal, they already accounted for a fifth of the total territory. The plan was advancing smoothly, yet Catherine's eyes held little joy as she looked at the map, reflecting only an indelible wisp of sorrow. The aged elf standing beside her spoke to Her Majesty. "Catherine, you must pull yourself together. If you remain hopelessly trapped in self-reproach, our people will march straight toward their doom. You are our queen; you must shoulder this burden." Catherine pressed her lips tight and replied to the old elf, "I only wish I had never accepted the crown from your hands back then." The old elf was the previous king. After abdicating, he had become the Elven Queen's minister, constantly assisting her in governing the Silvermoon High Court. Elves possessed little lust for power and had no rigid tradition requiring hereditary succession; having two successive sovereigns govern side by side significantly reduced errors in the realm's decision-making. Yet that only applied under ordinary circumstances. "Catherine, stop blaming yourself. That decision was endorsed by all of us together; our eyes were blinded by greed. Now is not the time to assign blame. This war is the only way our race can endure. Cast aside these pointless emotions and do what you must." Catherine closed her eyes and shook her head. "Is this truly the way to save our people? Even if we conquer all the territory of the City of Alchemy and seize those alchemical production lines, can we really solve the problem of mana addiction?" *Mana addiction.* At the word, the old king shuddered. This was the greatest crisis facing the elven race, and a secret they had harbored for a long time. The elves had always been detached from worldly disputes and harbored no territorial ambitions. Why, then, had they abruptly driven up the prices of magical ingredients by astronomical margins? And why had they openly dispatched troops to invade the territory of the City of Alchemy? The vast majority of elves did not understand the true significance of this war, assuming they were merely claiming unowned land now that the opportunity had presented itself. Yet if this were an ordinary war, how could they have forced the original inhabitants to relocate before hostilities even began, offering no room for negotiation? The elves were not fools; they would never commit such an absurd blunder. Though xenophobic, the elves were not so intolerant that they could not bear the sight of other races; otherwise, they would never have opened the Silvermoon High Court to outside sightseers in the past. Yet now, their methods were even more ruthless than Ryan's, and the reason lay entirely within 'mana addiction.' It was a peculiar affliction currently known to only a few, yet widespread infection had already taken hold across the elven race. It had all begun with the ability Catherine gained upon her second ascension to legendary status. Catherine had originally been a legendary ranger. Her legendary boon allowed her to forge formidable anti-magic weapons using only a minuscule amount of magical materials. This boon had enabled her to achieve countless military triumphs in her youth, leading the elves to glorious victory through disaster after disaster. As time went on, her mastery of the School of Transmutation deepened, culminating in her second ascension to legend through that school. Although elves frequently multiclassed due to their long lifespans, achieving a second ascension to legend remained exceedingly rare. Everyone was all the more convinced that Catherine was a uniquely blessed queen, a true darling of the gods. Yet the root of the catastrophe lay precisely in the legendary boon granted by her second ascension. *Selfless Sharing*—such was Catherine's legendary ability. She could select a power she had mastered and selflessly share it with others. There were no prerequisites; so long as the recipient was willing, they would receive the gift of power, while Catherine herself suffered no loss. The only drawback was that the shared power could never be revoked. It sounded extraordinary, akin to endlessly replicating legendary might. Catherine was a dual-legend; if she could share her abilities selflessly, would she not be able to mass-produce legendary figures for the elven race? Initially, every elf thought precisely that. The first time she used Selfless Sharing, Catherine bestowed the power of a legendary ranger upon a fiercely loyal member of the Twilight Guard. He, too, could effortlessly forge anti-magic weapons, and his ranger techniques rose to a whole new level. Only because the power was a gift from the queen, its full deployment fell slightly short of a true legend. Even so, the result was astonishing. Legends were inherently rare, and even among their ranks, many were subpar frauds. To reliably bestow the power of a legendary ranger on someone bordered on the realm of divinity. The elves observed the guard cautiously for several years and found no adverse side effects whatsoever. To their pleasant surprise, when his child was born, the newborn seemed to have inherited a portion of that power as well. The child possessed sharper vision and greater arm strength than other elves; legendary might could actually be passed down by blood. Several more years slipped by as the child grew, and the elves still detected no flaws. The boy was stronger, more gifted, and possessed a slightly larger appetite. Yet that was hardly considered a flaw; a powerful child naturally required more nourishment. At the time, the elves failed to realize the gravity of the situation. The old king even suggested that Catherine temper the power of Selfless Sharing rather than bestowing complete legendary strength, as doing so incurred a lengthy cooldown after each bestowal. He advised that she share focused, specific abilities instead. Catherine agreed, granting the ability to create anti-magic weapons to numerous elven artisans, while sharing weakened ranger techniques with many young elves. During those days, the Twilight Guard expanded its recruitment rapidly, for the Queen's generosity had produced far too many geniuses. The elven race grew stronger by the day, and Catherine's prestige reached its absolute zenith. Who could reject a queen who enriched every single elf? Yet the true tragedy soon reared its head. The first Twilight Guard to receive the legendary power began to exhibit problems. It was as though a hole had been punctured through his body, constantly swallowing both his vitality and his mana. At first, the drain was so slow that no one noticed, but as he continued to use his acquired legendary gifts, the hole steadily expanded. Not only did he have to gorge himself to meet his body's needs, but the deficit in his mana grew horrifyingly severe. If he was not supplied with vast quantities of magical items to replenish his reserves in time, that dark vortex would drain all the mana from his frame, plunging him into agony worse than death. What proved even more horrifying was that his child developed the exact same condition. The boy, once hailed as a natural-born legend, died from rampant mana destabilization before he could even reach adulthood. Only then did the elves realize that every ounce of power demanded an equal measure of control. To attain legendary strength without reaching the realm of a legend—even a mere sliver of it—brought catastrophic consequences. Legendary power was, in essence, the laws of the world. If you did not comprehend those laws and forced yourself to wield them, you had to pay an extraneous price. For mortals, borrowing legendary power meant endlessly paying with their own mana. Every elf who had received Catherine's bestowed gifts succumbed to varying degrees of 'mana addiction.' Their need for mana surged dramatically; should they fail to replenish it in time, they would perish in unspeakable agony. By the time this truth came to light, half of the elven population had already received Catherine's 'Selfless Sharing.' Even though subsequent sharing had been drastically weakened, it remained power of the legendary realm. Though the vast majority of elves had not yet reached the critical stage where their mana addiction turned fatal, Catherine knew all too well: The elven race was on the brink of ruin.