"Hello everyone!" We're back—after a long time, we are finally back again! (^o^)丿! "When was our last chapter? It feels like it's been a really long time." It's been nearly two months! But we've finally got something new to talk about! "Yes, we do. This will be a shorter chapter, I think, and it is all about what you already saw in the title: Elven Rage."
You know, the thing Mae used during her fight? It was almost used by Zee way back during the arc with Eirisse—who, by the way, was definitely a mistake to have as a villain that early. Huge pacing issue.[1] But hey, that's a topic for another day. Let us know if you want us to rant about that sometime. "Moving on from that—set the scene, would you, Mr. Narrator?"
Alright, alright. Ahem. We're in one of the quieter wings of The Library today—the one stocked with books on biology and evolutionary theory. The shelves are tall and packed tight, everything categorized by race, then by organ system, then by historical deviation. The air's a bit drier here, smells like old paper and chalk dust. The Librarian walks along a shelf marked Elven Anatomy and slides out a thick, green-spined book titled Elven Biology. He carries it over to the same cozy spot from last time—low lanterns, sun-warmed sofa cushions, loose parchment still scattered over the table like we never left.
"So. Elves. How do they work? How do they function? And why do people fear them so?" We're not diving into all that today—but if you want us to do a full breakdown, you know where to click. "Let's start with something simple. The average elf is always stronger than the average human. No exceptions. If you take a completely ordinary elf and a completely ordinary human, the elf wins in every physical category."
And in most magical ones too, just to rub it in. "Which brings us to Elven Rage."
The Librarian opens the book and flips through it—pages rustling like parchment sails—until his hand stills on a dense page with sharp diagrams and elegant script. "When you hear Rage-type ability in fantasy, what do you usually picture?"
Let me guess—massive stat boosts, right? Strength, speed, endurance, damage resistance, pain threshold going through the roof? "Exactly. But Elven Rage doesn't work like that. Not directly, anyway. Instead of directly enhancing physical abilities, it heightens magical capacity. It increases mana production, grants significant resistance to mana exhaustion, and suppresses the effects of mana poisoning."
It's actually really similar to adrenaline in humans—which, fun fact, elves don't have. "Correct. Which is kind of surprising considering all the other advantages they have. Speaking of which…"
The Librarian turns the pages again, more precise this time, until he reaches a section labeled Half-Elves. "Half-elves—typically born of a human and an elf—possess adrenal glands. They produce adrenaline, and they also inherit Elven Rage. While they lack the same level of control pure-blooded elves exhibit, the combination is, quite frankly, superior. It is, in most situations, an outright upgrade."
And by the way, different types of elves have different versions of Elven Rage. "The fundamentals are the same across the board—it always amplifies magical output—but each subrace manifests it in their own unique, and often terrifying, way."
Take Forest Elves, for example. When they enter Elven Rage—like Mae did—you'll notice they go cold. Not just emotionally detached, but still. They move with precision, speak with ice in their voice. There's no screaming, no snarling. Just quiet fury, calculated and simmering—like something waiting to snap.
"Sea Elves, on the other hand, take a completely different route. Normally peaceful, highly diplomatic, even borderline pacifistic—when their Rage hits, they lose all of that. It turns them feral. We're talking full-on savage. Tearing things apart, biting, ramming into opponents, screaming bloody murder."
Dark Elves? Oh, those ones go full psycho. Like, literal madness. "They laugh. A lot. Constantly. Wild, barking, unhinged laughter—and they grin the entire time. Eyes wide. They don't just look like they want to hurt you, they look like they're already imagining how many ways they can do it."
Snow Elves have arguably the most dangerous version from a collateral damage standpoint. If they lose control? Ice detonates outward in every direction. "It's less a Rage and more an environmental hazard. Do not be near them when it goes off."
Then there are Fairy Elves. "Their version causes their bodies to glow violently—colors shifting and flashing rapidly. Like a magical strobe effect. It's disorienting, painful to look at, and honestly a serious health risk. If they don't kill you directly, epilepsy might."
Space Elves... we don't talk about Space Elves. "Agreed. Moving on."
And finally, the High Elves. "They don't have Elven Rage. Thank everything that exists for that."
Yeah, they don't need it. They're already bad enough without it. But here's the twist—different half-elves inherit different Rage effects too. Like, say you're a half-elf and half-orc? Congratulations, you get both Elven Rage and the Orcish Frenzy. One boosts your magic, the other turns your body into a war machine.
"Not a fun matchup if you ever have to fight one. Now then—" The Librarian snapped the book shut, sharp and final. "It's been a pleasure talking with all of you once again. Goodbye and—"
Happy learning!
[1] Thanks asshole.
-The Author.