Stigma Consciousness

“President, these are all the documents and evidence I could gather on the trafficking of elven growth hormones,” said Helen, a blue-haired girl in a student council cadre uniform, as she handed a stack of papers to Felicia.

The golden elf and student council president reviewed them carefully before nodding solemnly.

“Gathering all this must have taken significant effort. Thank you, Helen,” Felicia said sincerely.

Since her last conversation with her sister about elven growth hormones, the princess of the Elven Kingdom had been consumed by the issue.

Back at Tianqi Academy, she juggled overwhelming responsibilities while carving out time from her scarce rest to investigate the elf s*ave trade.

As president, she couldn’t leave campus for extended periods, so she entrusted Helen, the head of the security division, with collecting critical evidence.

“It’s nothing compared to what you handle daily, President,” Helen replied, shaking her head, her blue ponytail swaying gently. Despite her feminine appearance, her sharp demeanor exuded a heroic air.

“Managing student affairs is my duty as president, but the troubles within our race keep me restless. That’s why I needed your help,” Felicia said, rubbing her tired brow.

Her sister’s speculations lingered, and though she’d reported the issue to their mother, as a princess, she couldn’t sit idle.

The possibility that elven growth hormones were tied to internal corruption gnawed at her.

Helen’s findings were grim. “The market demand for elf slaves far exceeds that for other races. Despite the Elven Kingdom’s crackdowns, profit-driven mercenaries still risk capturing underage elves.” Recalling the details, she sighed. Even as one of Seliria’s oldest races, elves’ beauty made their young vulnerable to exploitation.

“Elves’ stunning looks and gentle nature make them ideal servants for noble households, requiring little training. But this leads to alarmingly high mortality rates,” Helen continued. Felicia’s voice grew heavy. “How can I not worry? I live in comfort while countless kin suffer in darkness.”

“Human greed can eclipse the sun. Those depraved nobles and slavers will stop at nothing,” Felicia said, her tone icy with rage. Elves’ emotional sensitivity made them fragile; despair could shatter their spirits, leading to mental collapse.

“The high death rates aren’t just from growth hormones or harsh conditions. Elves are the most emotionally sensitive beings, heavily influenced by their feelings. When their spirits break, they fade,” Helen explained, her voice somber.

Her frequent interactions with Felicia gave her deep insight into elven nature—their purity and beauty, so alluring yet so easily crushed by greed.

“Elves crave freedom and peace, not captivity. Once enslaved, they can’t adapt, and spiritual death is inevitable,” Felicia said, her voice chillingly calm, masking a storm of fury. Helen sensed the silent tempest brewing within her.

Though elves were naturally kind and peace-loving, their wrath was fearsome. An enraged elf’s actions defied comprehension, even to extremists.

Hesitating, Helen asked, “President, the mercenaries’ greed is insatiable. Could they target royals?”

Felicia let out a cold scoff, uncharacteristic of her grace. “Target royals? They’d need the strength to back it up. Even a juvenile golden elf isn’t prey for ordinary mercenaries.”

“Why? Isn’t a long growth period a shared weakness among divine races? Can a young golden elf really face a trained mercenary band?” Helen blurted out, then quickly bowed. “Sorry, President, I shouldn’t have asked.”

Divine races guarded their secrets closely, and her question risked offense. But Felicia waved it off. “It’s fine. We’re close enough for such talk, and I trust you won’t leak this.”

Felicia’s keen senses could detect deceit, and her trust in Helen was absolute.

“It’s simple. All powerful divine races face reproduction difficulties and long growth periods. Their numbers are divinely capped, making every child precious. Clans protect their young fiercely—golden elves, vampires, dragons, all do this. For golden elves, we inscribe our young with Sacred Marks before they leave home. These bloodline-bound protections activate in danger, granting the child a fragment of an ancestor’s battle instincts, unleashing immense power.”

Mercenaries who dared provoke an elven queen’s wrath would find retreat their only option.

In the Secret Realm, the silver-haired snow elf’s appearance stunned the red-clad noble and his gang.

Her divine presence overwhelmed them, their souls trembling, bodies yielding instinctively. She was a celestial queen, her icy blue eyes surveying them with absolute authority.

“Humans, have you trespassed into my domain?” Her ethereal voice demanded submission.

“Boss, she… she’s not human,” stammered a follower, likely one of the group—perhaps Suge, Malihe, Xiao Pa, or the monk boy—who had witnessed extraordinary events before. Some had even mistaken divine envoys for gods themselves. But now, facing this silver-haired elf, they were certain her blood carried divine essence.

“She doesn’t seem like a pure elf either…” one whispered.

“I can see that! An elf? Were there elves in our exam cohort?” the noble growled, his face twisting with frustration. His high-tier magical artifacts bolstered his confidence, but he was less rattled than his trembling lackeys. He’d studied the candidate profiles and recalled no elves—unsurprising, as few elves left their forests for human cities.

But who was this silver-haired, unmistakably elven girl?

“Respected elf lady, are you a candidate in this exam?” he asked, stepping forward with a gentlemanly bow, masking his earlier cruelty to Aelir. Her expression remained frozen, unmoved by his courtesy. The lack of response stung like a slap, fueling his rage.

Seeing Selina cradling the unconscious Aelir, he tried another tactic. “Since you won’t answer, could you return our companion? She was caught in the avalanche. Surely a kind elf would reunite her with us.”

He assumed Aelir’s relic, a valuable trophy, would be returned, banking on elven kindness.

But her icy response shattered his ploy. “Don’t change the subject, human. I ask again: have you trespassed into my domain?”

The blunt dismissal felt like a slap, igniting his fury. Used to getting his way, this rebuff was intolerable. “Tch, just a pretentious elf wench. I showed you respect for your race and looks, but if you spurn it, don’t blame me for what comes next!” His noble facade crumbled, revealing a vile core. He burned to dominate her.

He wasn’t foolish.

Her tone suggested she wasn’t a candidate but a Secret Realm native, making her fair game.

Adult elves were formidable, but his arsenal of magical artifacts gave him an edge.

Elves had limited mana; his artifacts could outlast her. Even if he lost, his token would save him, and his points, even halved, would secure his admission.

With retreat assured, vengeance overwhelmed reason. Roaring, he rallied his lackeys to charge.

Some rushed recklessly, others hesitated, and the weakest froze, not yet near death to trigger their tokens.

The humans’ barrage of flames, winds, and lightning was meaningless to her impassive gaze.

Even the noble’s artifact-fueled assault barely registered. Inside the ice shelter, Selina had just completed her magical breakthrough, leaving her mentally drained and briefly unconscious.

The shelter’s collapse and external commotion triggered her Sacred Mark, allowing Carina’s battle instincts to take over.

To this consciousness, the defiant humans were doomed.

Their numerous spells filled the air, but the silver-haired elf merely raised her left hand.

The surrounding elements twisted, drained at a terrifying speed.

Ice and snow particles became her absolute thralls, manipulated with domineering precision.

From her hand formed an ice-crystal longbow, its creation halting the wind and snow.

All elemental essence converged into the weapon. Standing before Aelir, the Sacred Mark acted on instinct, shielding the unconscious girl.

With elegant precision, she drew the light-woven bowstring.

No aiming was needed—the bow’s power transcended such needs.

She loosed the string, and the air tore as her silver hair danced. The compressed elements exploded in a single arrow, unleashing a blizzard of razor-sharp ice spirals.

The deafening roar drowned all sound, the white abyss devouring everything but Selina and Aelir.

The snow elf stood calmly, her ice-blue eyes devoid of emotion, gazing at the shattered world she’d wrought, as if it were not her doing.