The Laughing Hag was an old establishment, existing as far back as most Inviters could remember.

Since most of its patrons were ancient, powerful beings, the alcohol it served was just as powerful. Basilisk wine, millenia old brews aged in casks made from Yggdrasils, fermented dragon’s blood, Scotch Whisky, anything would be available to paying customers, except for those on David’s blacklist.

Being sole owner of the place meant that he was king of the one of the most important sources of entertainment they could have. Immortality was boring and alcohol was one way people could ease their boredom. Of course, some even watched the Immortal Games while they drowned their booze.

Or even while having nightly service.

Anything was possible if there was enough boredom.

The night had been slow for Winston, the sole remaining senior bartender in the Laughing Hag.

Everyone was busy watching the early game for this season so there hadn’t been much business since David reopened the bar.

He was polishing the crystal clear glasses just to pass the time when the door to the bar opened and a man stepped in. His black hair had a silver streak near the middle and reddish edges. His black eyes were slightly bloodshot and sleepy. He wore a heavy black overcoat that covered him entirely with navy blue pants and knee length boots.

“Evening Master Granger, what can I get for you?” Winston asked.

“Evening, Winston. I’ll have a Bourbon Mint. Can’t have too much alcohol since I still have work to do. Is David in?” Granger replied while sitting down on a bar stool.

“Very well sir.” Winston said, immediately getting to work brewing the tea and mixing the bourbon.

The Laughing Hag prized itself on fast service and Winston had centuries of experience. As the water boiled, WInston asked. ”Unfortunately, Master David is busy right now. Would you like to leave a message?”

Granger shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I just wanted to talk to him.”

“I swear, every season, those brats get even more stereotypical and spoiled. Back in my day, we didn’t get relics or good families. We only had what we could get for ourselves and we had to compete with the rest of the world for that."

"I'm sure you did, sir." Winston replied monotonously, refilling Granger's mug with the tea cocktail. "However, sir, I was informed that Master David's Invitee was doing quite well."

"Oh, that kid? Yeah he seemed alright.” Granger nodded.

“A bit too focused on that goal of his for me though. He has the Nightmare Lantern, is it? I suppose that might come in handy for him.”

Winston merely chuckled.

Granger was an oddity, even among them.

People who had surpassed their mortal chains and the hand of fate.

And once even fate no longer had control over you, nothing did.

Most eventually mad with the newfound power and immortality, unhinged from their sanity.

That was what Moderators were for.

Of course, some people would be able to withstand the change and ascend among their ranks, and some of them needed a form of entertainment.

Thus the Immortal Games were born, a project to “artificially” create Immortals.

Inviters would seek out people from different realms, locating talents among the mortals and seed relics in their worlds.

They would then be thinned out through trials and their struggles would serve as entertainment for the Immortals.

The first game was a huge success, sort of.

One person had successfully ascended, becoming an Immortal before the Games ended.

How that first game ended, however…

The second game had Moderators in place to prevent that disaster from ever happening again.

Now, they were on the 317th game and things were still going smoothly.

However, even with that many games and such a rich history, Granger had only ever acknowledged three Invitees.

What Granger himself did not realize was that he had a severe lack of common sense. Simply being acknowledged by him was enough to indicate massive talent on par with archmages and sword saints among those mortals.

‘Look’s like Master Deo’s luck strikes again.’ Winston thought to himself.

…

Fel was slowly growing accustomed to the life around her.

Leon and Cara kept their promises, treating her no differently than their own child.

The adoption process had gone well. The elven embassy couldn’t care less about exiles intermingling with other races as long as no one within the family of the exile objected, and Fel’s parents did not.

The human side of the ordeal had been quite a problem though. Slavery was illegal in the Vylian Empire so the Galiens had a hard time explaining how they could have gotten an elf child in the first place.

However, due to the lack of criminal records and reports of goodwill from their neighbours, the captain of the guard finally relented. She wished Fel some good luck along with an address if she were ever to find trouble in her adoptive home.

Fel did not need it but she appreciated the gesture.

The day the papers were signed, the Galiens celebrated once more with a home cooked feast from Leon. This time however, the flavours were more varied, so that Fel could find something she particularly liked.

Creamy Fowl and Root Dumplings.

Evan respected her taste.

Of course, being a part of the family meant chores to do, but Fel did not mind. Training eight hours a day with the sage was much harder than helping Cara wash the dishes after lunch.

“I’m done with these plates, Mom.” She informed Cara with a smile.

Cara laughed as she barely called out before Fel disappeared from the kitchen. “Thank you Fel. You can go out and play now. Just don’t forget to be back before the sun goes down and dinner gets served.”

“I will.” She yelled as she ran up the stairs.

“Evan, let’s go outside!”

“Are you done with your chores?” He yelled.

“I am.”

“Alright, I’ll go get changed. See you later, Zed.” Evan said before rushing out the door.

“See you. We’ll continue this discussion at a later day.”

“Why? Because you can’t accept that tanktops are better than blouses?”

“They are and you know it!”

“Nope.”

“EVAN!!!”

…

Evan and Fel arrived at a clearing in the city in fifteen minutes, quite out of breath.

The area was supposed to be a beautiful park with several tamed monsters wandering around that the residents could play with.

The project, however, had been put on hold for a while so children and adults used it as an open field. It was flat, made of hardened earth and clear of buildings on all sides for at least several hundred metres.

The children liked to play here, since they could use any spells they wanted without having to worry about damage to their surroundings.

Luckily for them, no one was around at the moment, leaving the field for themselves.

“Why did you call me out here?” Evan asked.

Fel jolted as she paced back and forth nervously.

“I-I want to get stronger!” She blurted out.

‘Gods this is so embarrassing.’ She blushed.

‘He has no reason to-’

“Sure.”

“I can give you- Wait, what?!”

Evan cocked his head, “What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to accept it just like that?” She asked.

“I mean, why not?”

“Well… The sages back in Allanar were quite strict about what we could and couldn’t learn.”

Evan shrugged his shoulders, “I doubt I could teach you anything they haven’t taught you. I only know what I’ve managed to learn from trial and error.”

“I doubt it. The way you use magic is different, and your spells are more powerful than they should be. Maybe you learned something they might have missed.” Fel explained.

“Fair enough." Evan nodded. "What would you like to learn first?”

“How do you cast such powerful spells?” Fel asked.

“You keep mentioning that but I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Evan said with a shake of his head.

Fel sighed, “Here, let me show you.”

“Fir.”

A small fireball appeared on top of her left hand, flickering warmly in the air.

“Now, try to cast the same spell yourself.”

Evan lazily stretched out his hand and chanted,

“Fir”

Another fireball appeared on top of Evan’s hand. However, Evan’s was at least twice as large as Fel’s, giving off so much heat that Fel started sweating.

“That! How do you do that?” She exclaimed.

“It’s simple. You just chant the spell and mix your mana with the world energy in the air and cast the spell.” Evan said, puzzled by Fel’s ignorance.

“No, not that you blockhead! What am I doing wrong?”

“You’re using too much mana in the spell.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“The fireball runs off of the world energy you mix in the spell when you cast it.”

“So, if you put too much mana in the spell, it won’t burn properly.” Evan explained.