Pretending to be a noob in a world scaled by power level

[96] Tension

As we were strolling through the public guildhall of Luha, a group of adventurers at a nearby table caught my attention. Their grim conversation echoed the same rumors we had been hearing over the past few days, but now with added urgency and certainty.

The tallest among them, a burly Orc warrior with tattoos spiraling up his arms, grumbled, "Heard it from a reliable source, a Beastkin trader that we've known for years. Elves have tightened their borders, not even letting traders through."

A slender elf woman, her sharp green eyes reflecting her concern, added, "Yes, and the Beastkin are amassing a considerable army. Some say it's the largest they've seen in a century."

A dwarf with a bushy beard sipped on his mead before grumbling, "The damn fool leaders are stirring the pot, they are. Mark my words, this'll lead to nothing good."

A fourth member of their group, a quiet human woman with a mage's robe and a staff propped against her seat, murmured thoughtfully, "And it's not just them. The other races are getting dragged into this mess. Dwarves, Fae, even some human factions... they're all being pushed to choose sides."

The orc clenched his fist, banging the table in frustration. "A war would be a bloody disaster. Just when things were starting to look up, too..."

Their words cast a shadow over our minds. If the rumors were indeed true, we needed to prepare ourselves for the looming chaos. This wasn't just a problem for the Elves and the Beastkin, but something that threatened to engulf all of us.

***

While we walked on the streets, a crowd has gathered around the center of the street.

As I squeezed through the throng of onlookers, I found myself standing near the front of the crowd where an Elf and a Beastkin were locked in a fierce argument. The elf, tall and lithe with pointed ears peeking out from beneath a mess of silver hair, was red in the face. He pointed an accusatory finger at the beastkin, a hulking figure covered in coarse fur, with cat-like ears and eyes that burned with barely restrained rage.

"You filthy Beastkin, you and your ilk are the ones escalating tensions!" the elf hissed, his face twisted in anger.

"Us?!" the Beastkin roared back, baring sharp, predatory teeth. "You elves have been shutting us out, blockading trade routes and treating us like enemies!"

A rumble of agreement echoed through the crowd of Beastkin and their supporters, while murmurs of discontent spread among the Elves and their allies.

"It's always the same with you beastly lot!" the Elf retorted, "Quick to blame others, quick to violence, slow to reason!"

"And you, oh wise elves!" the Beastkin spat, "Think you're superior, don't you? Looking down on us from your lofty tree-tops!"

The argument grew heated and the tension was palpable. The crowd watched with bated breath as the Elf and the Beastkin continued their fierce exchange, embodying the animosity brewing between their races. All the while, I stood on the sidelines, silently observing the unfolding drama.

The escalating argument between the Elf and the Beastkin took a sudden, dramatic turn. With their anger reaching boiling point, both the Elf and the Beastkin drew their weapons simultaneously, their faces contorted in mutual defiance and loathing.

The Elf unsheathed an exquisite elvish longsword, the blade gleaming silver in the sunlight, as ethereal as it was deadly. The intricate patterns engraved onto the hilt bore testament to the centuries of elvish craftsmanship.

The Beastkin, on the other hand, unsheathed a monstrous battle-axe, its iron-gray blade looking cold and menacing. The hefty wooden handle was adorned with several beastly totems, reflecting the raw and primal culture of the Beastkin.