Chapter 193: The Edge of Civilization

Chapter 193: The Edge of Civilization

The final destination, the Land of Swords, remained unvisited, and the two missed the chance to see the legendary Hero's Sword.

While crossing the northern region, Trela fell ill. Her cheeks were flushed, and her body was burning with fever, making her look extremely uncomfortable.

Due to the remote location, they couldn't find a monk to treat her, so Luke had to take her to a nearby village and buy healing potions from a pharmacy.

"Ugh, it's so bitter."

Trela's face contorted as she drank the potion.

Seeing her discomfort, Luke popped a honey date into her mouth and tucked her under the blankets to prevent the cold wind from making her condition worse.

Trela chewed and swallowed reluctantly, looking miserable. "After getting sick, even sweets taste bad."

"This is what happens when you don't take care of yourself," Luke said, his tone stern but softening after a moment.

"Want anything to eat? I can go buy it for you."

"I want you."

Luke, expressionless, took back the bowl of honey dates. "No, you're sick."

Trela's eyes glistened with tears. "Don't you want to feel what it's like to be with a feverish body?"

Luke gave her a sidelong glance but remained silent.

But Trela persisted, "Just try, just once."

This time, Luke slowly stood up and, to Trela's confusion, threw the bowl to the ground.

Crack—

The honey dates and shattered bowl pieces scattered on the floor.

"There's a limit to how much joking I can take!"

Trela, who had never seen Luke lose his temper, was taken aback and apologized, a bit at a loss, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Luke moved his fingers, and the ground swallowed the debris. He looked at Trela, who was lying on the bed, his brow furrowed.

Ever since the middle of their journey, Trela had changed. She wasn't as lively as before, often spacing out or staring at him in silence. More frequently, she would relentlessly seek his affection at night.

Elves had a low desire for physical intimacy, and Luke rarely initiated such encounters with Trela. However, he didn't reject her when she had needs. Recently, Trela's frequency had become excessive, to the point where it was damaging her health.

Her illness was partly due to the cold climate of the northern countries and the long journey, but another reason was her recent indulgence.

"Why have you been clinging to me so much lately? You're sick, yet you can't stop. What are you so worried about?"

Luke tried to keep his voice calm and soothing. "You know that elves don't have strong desires. Physical pleasure is optional. I wouldn't betray our marriage over something so trivial."

Trela bit her lip, her tone despondent. "But I'm afraid. Even the lowest desire isn't nothing, and even the smallest possibility isn't impossible."

"I'm getting older, Luke. Being with you makes this feeling more pronounced."

She tugged at her hair, curling into a ball, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Your body remains strong and firm, but I feel my skin loosening, my energy not as vibrant as it was in my youth. This feeling has been especially noticeable since I turned thirty."

"Time is a gift for you. You can read more magic books, learn more knowledge, and develop more spells. Your body remains in its prime forever."

As she spoke, tears fell onto the blanket, and she touched her flushed cheeks.

"But for me, time is a torment."

"I'm still considered attractive now, but in ten years, wrinkles will appear, my skin will sag, and my body will deteriorate, making it hard to be close to you. In twenty years, I'll be a thoroughly old woman."

"Everywhere we go, I see younger, more beautiful women eyeing you. I know you won't be swayed, but I'm still afraid."

Luke's frown eased, and he spoke gently to comfort her. "You were much more confident when you were younger. You used to say that having a forever young partner was a good thing. Remember that?"

Trela thought for a moment and then gave a bitter laugh. "I remember. Back then, my thoughts were simpler. I didn't consider all the issues and believed that as long as we loved each other, nothing would stand in our way."

"It's the same now."

Luke took off his outer robe, climbed into bed, and held Trela. "Don't overthink it. If I cared about looks, why would I have chosen you?"

Trela was taken aback. Her tears slowly stopped, and she asked, her voice nasally, "Does that mean you think I'm not attractive?"

Luke tightened his hold on her. "You are attractive, but that's not why I chose you."

"Then why did you fall for me?"

Luke thought for a moment. "That's hard to say. I didn't really plan on finding a partner. Elves have long lifespans, and it's hard to deal with the loss. But you kept persisting, and you slowly won me over. Maybe deep down, I wanted someone to be with me."

"It sounds like anyone who clings to you will be accepted."

"There's also the issue of who came first," Luke said, showing her the Jinhua Ring on his finger. "And you already have me tied down."

Trela didn’t speak again, but Luk could feel the body in his arms relax a little. After a while, the person in his arms began to breathe steadily, indicating that she had fallen asleep.

It seems that the obstacles between the Immortal Race and humans aren’t just about lifespan. Or rather, the issue of lifespan leads to many other problems.

Luk thought silently to himself, letting out a wordless sigh.

After that night, Trela returned to her usual self. She even awkwardly apologized to Luk, explaining that she had been weak-willed after her illness and had momentarily lost control. She promised that she wouldn’t let such thoughts trouble her again.

Humans are emotional beings, and experiencing highs and lows is normal. However, Luk felt that perhaps traveling wasn’t suitable for them. Seeing too many young women might just make Trela accumulate negative emotions again.

Thus, their three-year journey came to an end. Once Trela recovered, Luk brought her back to his fiefdom in Barum.

The fiefdom granted by the Lord was quite large, but most of it was in the countryside, with a few scattered villages. Since he had written ahead to inform them that he disliked crowds, there was no grand welcome upon their return. Only the village chief, who accompanied them with a smile, gave a brief introduction about the fiefdom’s size, population, income, and past tax collections, followed by a series of complaints.

In short, times were tough, the harvest was poor, and he begged the Lord to be merciful and lower the taxes.

If the taxes were too high, the people would be resentful. If there were no taxes at all, it would disrupt the order. Luk didn’t need the income and didn’t want to bother with these trivial matters. He simply said that the taxes should be set at the lowest level of the previous term, with no issues in between.

The village chief, upon hearing this, naturally beamed with joy and couldn’t stop thanking him.

The Lord’s mansion was slightly larger than the Campbell family’s. After arranging for the servants to clean, Luk and Trela settled into the master bedroom.

Due to the remote location of the fiefdom and Luk’s disinterest in socializing, they had few visitors. Only Amal and Sally occasionally brought their sons over, and the Magic Association initially invited Luk to give lectures, but after a few rejections, they eventually gave up.

In this relatively static environment, five years passed in a blink.

During this time, Trela’s mood remained stable. Apart from her youthful appearance, she developed a unique hobby—sculpture. Initially, she started by carving simple shapes, then she hired a teacher to learn. After five years, her skills had genuinely improved, and her sculptures were lifelike.

Later, Luk found out that Trela wanted to sculpt him.

"Why did you want to make a statue of me?"

"At the end of civilization, anyone can only do what ancient infants did—carve words on stones."

Trela, wearing her work clothes, winked at him playfully. "Didn’t you say that in one of the stories you told me?"

"That’s just a story," Luk said, half-laughing, half-crying. "Besides, I don’t have anything worth recording."

Even Flame, the originator of human magic, would be forgotten, and he, the "Father of Modern Magic," would probably become the "Father of Previous Magic" in a hundred years, and after a few centuries, he would be erased from history.

"I had this idea when I saw your statue in the capital. Those guys didn’t do a good job of capturing your likeness, so I want to make a perfect one."

Luk stared at her for a while, then shook his head when he realized she was serious.

"Don’t be silly."

"Why is it silly? I’ll just keep it at home for myself to see."

"Having a statue of myself at home would feel strange."

"No worries, one is strange, but two won’t be," Trela said with a smile, revealing her plan.

"I’ll make one of myself too, and we can put them together."

Luk imagined the scene and furrowed his brow even more deeply. "Wouldn’t that be even stranger?"

"Just say yes or no!"

Trela pressed the carving knife to her throat, giving the impression that she would die if he refused. Luk could only nod in reluctant agreement.

After that, the long process of sculpting began.

Trela worked meticulously, with great focus and at a slow pace. It took her nearly a year to complete Luk’s statue. Her own statue, however, was finished much faster, probably due to her improved skills. It took her only about six months.

"Here, here."

"Over there, a bit to the right, yes, yes!"

Trela directed Luk to move the statues around, constantly adjusting the angles. When she found the right position, her eyes sparkled as she looked at Luk, smiling faintly.

"This way, no matter how long it takes, we’ll always be together, until the end of civilization."

Although the emotion was fleeting, Luk keenly sensed the sadness beneath Trela’s smile.

He paused for a moment, then nodded, agreeing with his wife.

"Yes, we will always be together, until the end of civilization."

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end