The Elf Journey In The Western Fantasy World-Chapter 124: The Border’s Newcomer

Inside Anos’s mind, a tiny version of himself clutched a handkerchief and wept tears of gratitude.

There was just one thing he didn’t quite understand in what Illiya had said: why did he specifically mention his steward? Was Sebastian supposed to be able to patch the sky or something?

But after all these years together, he’d never seen Sebastian successfully mend anything. Frankly, it was already a minor miracle if Sebastian didn’t outright destroy something.

Sebastian: the eternal nemesis of craft lovers everywhere.

After Illiya had done his polite (and slightly perfunctory) duty answering the Demon King, he devoted himself entirely to observing the mysterious circle that had suddenly appeared in the sky.

Calling it a circle might not be entirely accurate, or rather, it was better described as the border. This circle marked the sign of passing through the border; it truly looked like the sky had been punctured, leaving a gaping hole.

It seemed that someone had passed through the border and was about to arrive in the Demon Realm.

Although Illiya did not know who had passed through the border, he had to admit that this person’s strength was impressive, and their luck was exceptional.

Their strength was evident because they could pass through the border smoothly. The magic elements within the border were violently turbulent—if not for his racial talents, Illiya suspected he would not be able to withstand these elements’ enthusiastic "greetings."

Their luck was apparent because they had randomly arrived in the Demon Realm instead of the Sky race’s territory or the Dragon race’s territory. Those two realms were far more dangerous than the Demon Realm. Setting aside the perilous seas surrounding Dragon Island, the Sky race’s peculiar entry requirement was practically a death sentence on its own.

"Entering the Sky race’s territory requires the ability to fly."

Who, aside from certain Sky race and Beastman bloodlines, would naturally be able to fly? Which other race would build their palaces and cities thousands of meters in the air? Only the Sky race.

No wonder no one wanted to establish diplomatic relations with the Sky race. That simple rule alone would kill countless would-be visitors.

Therefore, Illiya concluded that whoever was about to emerge from the border was incredibly lucky. In fact, for someone to bypass all the other parts of the Demon Realm and randomly land in this place—isolated by spatial magic—was the definition of phenomenal luck.

He truly wanted to meet this remarkable person.

Under the expectant gazes of the demons and Illiya, the white light surrounding the circle in the sky gradually dimmed, becoming less blinding, and a figure "floating" in mid-air slowly came into view.

This person had long, ink-blue hair and wore a flowing white mage’s robe, billowing in the wind. He appeared to be "floating" because of the wings behind him—wings formed entirely from condensed magic. From another perspective, flying in mid-air was practically "floating."

Despite the grandeur of this person’s entrance, Illiya couldn’t help but notice how familiar the swirling magic elements around him felt.

So familiar, in fact, that an image surfaced automatically in his mind.

It was Eoryun.

Once he replaced this "stranger’s" figure with Eoryun’s, everything suddenly clicked. The ink-blue hair was due to the merfolk bloodline’s influence.

The white mage’s robe was a staple of Eoryun’s wardrobe—Illiya doubted there was anything else in his closet.

Passing through the border? The merfolk bloodline’s awakening had strengthened Eoryun’s physique tremendously.

The turbulent magic of the border probably only tickled him. And as for landing here precisely... it had to be the protagonist’s halo at work.

Ah, thinking about it like that, Illiya realized Eoryun’s luck was ridiculously good.

Illiya secretly sighed.

As for why Eoryun—who should have been at the bottom of the sea—ended up here, Illiya didn’t even need to ponder.

The protagonist’s halo. Anything was possible.

Eoryun closed his eyes and silently waited for the transmission through the border.

As someone whose luck had never been reliable—especially after reincarnating in this world—he was already used to misfortune.

He’d gone to gather herbs in a secret realm, only to run into a high-level magic beast.

He’d casually picked up a necklace, only to find someone inside constantly making promises—and worse, trying to possess him.

Even a casual stroll down the street ended with him being falsely accused of having "great fortune" and then forced into nonsense schemes.

Please. If he truly had "great fortune," he wouldn’t have once bought instant noodles without a seasoning packet.

And who else but him would be stopped outside the city and forced into a betrothal cancellation? Such absurd misfortune.

He didn’t even want to recount his luck anymore—it was just one disaster after another.

He hoped that this time, as he crossed the border, he would experience a stroke of good luck for once.

Please, let him avoid being transported to the Sky race or the Dragon race. He didn’t want to be splattered across the ground or fed to sea monsters.

Seconds ticked by, and Eoryun had no idea if he’d emerged yet.

All he noticed was that the wind around him had grown much stronger, whipping his mage’s robe into a loud, flapping chorus.

A shiver ran down his spine.

When he was still in the Nubilian Union, the weather had been mild, so he’d only thrown on the thin mage’s robe over his clothes.

Though the robe had decent defensive capabilities, it was far too thin to keep out this biting wind.

With the wind howling and cold seeping into his bones, Eoryun finally opened his eyes.

The moment he did, he realized he was suspended in mid-air, surrounded by darkness that made it impossible to see his surroundings. Raising his head, he was startled by the sight of a blood-red moon hanging above him.

A blood-red moon—surely, that was no good omen.

Panicking, Eoryun quickly activated the magic wings behind him, descending as swiftly as he could. Hovering in the air like a fool was no way to handle this.