Ch.238Magnificent (3)

Unlike demons, elves have a long history of interacting with other races, which has earned them many descriptors.

The race chosen by the gods. The race that established the first civilization. The race that was the beginning of everything.

While there are many such positive descriptors, there are just as many negative ones.

The arrogant race. The rude race. Pointy-ears. The race with excessive pride. The infuriating race. Racial supremacists, and so on.

Most of these descriptors boil down to “elves are arrogant.” As the positive descriptors suggest, they truly are exceptionally capable, which naturally leads to frustration from others.

Even when elves disparaged certain aspects of other races, no one could say anything in response. Being arrogant is only possible when you have confidence in your own abilities.

Even when elves learn something from other races, that’s as far as it goes—they never yield an inch in fields where they feel confident.

Magic is where this is most pronounced. Magic is a power and ability that has developed since the establishment of civilization, and elves genuinely possess the most outstanding magical capabilities.

While demons may have tremendous firepower through dark mana, it’s practically impossible for them to drop meteor chunks from the sky like elves can.

Both demons and elves can make barren land fertile, but elves do it much more efficiently.

In exchange, due to years of persecution, demons have developed far more magic that helps with daily life. Moreover, magical items like refrigerators rival even dwarven craftsmanship.

But from an elf’s perspective, is that really such a great achievement? They believe that if they just invested the time, they could not only make the same items but create even better ones.

Of course, this is only possible because they haven’t actually tried it—creating magical items requires tremendous know-how.

Refrigerators, magic pens, temperature control functions in dormitories, and so on. These involve not just magic but a significant element of “engineering.”

While elven magic and research are very similar to “science,” engineering is a completely different field that primarily requires manual dexterity.

But elves forget this fact, and Arwen is no exception.

Despite being mixed-blood and having integrated into human society before entering Alfheim, it seems her innate traits couldn’t be changed. Moreover, since Arwen herself took pride in magic, she wouldn’t want to concede.

That’s not to say she wasn’t wrong. If it had been just the two of us, it might have been different, but saying such things in front of Cecilly, the Princess of Helium, was the problem.

Saying that demon magic looks crude to elves, that elves are superior to demons, and so on. Arwen, who is most wary of the “arrogance” characteristic of elves, ironically displayed exactly that trait.

“For a small-chested dwarf…”

I can understand why Cecilly resorted to personal attacks because of this. But she too made a serious mistake.

Unlike Arwen, who disparaged an entire race, Cecilly clearly insulted an individual. This was like firing a signal flare for the fight to escalate in a strange direction.

“W-what did you… what did you just say?”

I heard it, so there’s no way Arwen, who was facing Cecilly, didn’t hear it. Though Cecilly spoke softly, it was practically said to Arwen’s face.

Arwen was visibly flustered and slightly covered her chest with both arms. Her silver-gray eyes filled with embarrassment.

Despite what Cecilly said, Arwen’s chest isn’t small at all—it’s actually above average. It’s just that Cecilly’s is overwhelmingly large in comparison.

As for height… let’s skip that. That’s not relative but absolute.

Meanwhile, Cecilly snorted at Arwen, who was covering her chest with both arms, and crossed her arms with a haughty expression.

Her already impressive bust, which threatened to pop the buttons of her uniform, became even more prominent as she crossed her arms.

“Did I say anything wrong? You looked down on demons right in front of me, Your Majesty. Isn’t that right?”

“T-that may be true, but this is a personal attack!”

“Don’t you think disparaging demons like that is also a personal attack against me? It’s true that demon magic is somewhat more chaotic than elven magic. But to state it so directly without any tact… I think that’s a bit too much.”

Cecilly spoke calmly, unlike when she made the personal attack, but her words carried weight.

She was implying that she would consider any insult toward demons as a personal attack against her. In other words, she wouldn’t tolerate any more insults toward demons.

Moreover, as the Princess of Helium and the next Demon Queen, she had every right and justification to say so.

Sensing that their argument was about to escalate, I immediately stepped in to mediate.

“Arwen, Cecilly is right. You might have just been speaking your mind, but from the listener’s perspective, it can be very offensive. It might be true that elves excel the most in magic. But please refrain from making such direct comparisons.”

“…I understand. It seems I misspoke.”

Even as a half-elf, she’s still an elf—a race that doesn’t lower its pride in fields where it feels confident.

When Arwen bowed her head in apology, I shifted my gaze to Cecilly. She looked triumphant that I had taken her side, and with her arms crossed, my eyes were naturally drawn to her chest.

I felt an urge to grab those ripe fruit-like breasts but managed to suppress it. First, I needed to address her mistake.

“The same goes for you, Cecilly. Arwen was wrong, but there was no need for a personal attack. You could have said it differently. Like asking why elves lost to humans in the racial war if they’re so confident.”

“But it’s the truth! I just gave back what I got.”

Cecilly remained unyielding and proud despite my words. It seems she took Arwen’s belittling of demons to heart.

Well, it’s understandable that she wouldn’t feel like apologizing when faced with such blatant racial discrimination. From her perspective, she was just minding her own business when Arwen came at her.

But it shouldn’t have been a personal attack. If she wanted to attack, she should have attacked elves as a race, not Arwen personally.

Arwen seemed to share my sentiment and spoke with a slightly indignant voice.

“…The truth, you say? Very well. Then I’ll also refrain from attacking demons.”

Then, with a venomous expression, she launched a personal attack just as Cecilly had done.

“Fat lump.”

“W-what?”

“Arwen?”

Both Cecilly and I were startled and looked at Arwen. “Fat lump” was clearly meant to disparage Cecilly’s chest.

It’s an easy target since it’s a feature that stands out more than others. But at the same time, I wondered: Isn’t having a large chest a good thing? While Cecilly attacked Arwen’s weakness, Arwen seemed to be complimenting her.

Cecilly, who was initially shocked, seemed to realize this and, after looking disgruntled for a moment, snorted and responded confidently.

“Thank you. Some people don’t even have these ‘fat lumps.’ They might be a bit inconvenient, but Issac likes them.”

“Why me?”

“Why? It’s true.”

It is true, but I don’t understand why she’s dragging me into this fight.

“Hmm. Issac, you’re a man, so you’d understand. I’ve heard that men have traditionally preferred women with large breasts. I’ve read about this in books. Biologically, it reminds them of their mother’s embrace, which is why they like it.”

Why are you bringing this up? And Arwen is even nodding seriously, taking it all in.

As Cecilly was gloating with her nose in the air, Arwen slowly stood up from her seat. I just watched her actions blankly.

Then, Arwen placed her hands on her slender waist and slid them down, showcasing her superior hips.

Her dress already had slits on the sides, exposing her bare skin, and with that gesture, it was quite harmful to my heart.

“W-what do you think? Isn’t this curvature better than just having a lot of fat?”

“Uh…”

“I might not be confident about my chest, but I am about my lower half. I’ve been praised for it since ancient times.”

Given that “ancient times” for Arwen is quite a long time ago, the fact that she’s been praised since then makes it truly something to boast about. Indeed, her hip line is as overwhelming as Cecilly’s chest.

While Cecilly, being a demon, also has excellent hips and a distinct lower body line, it doesn’t compare to Arwen’s. Moreover, Arwen’s small stature accentuates it even more.

Sitting down, I stared at Arwen’s lower body as if entranced, then slowly moved my gaze upward. Such behavior was evidently embarrassing for her, as her face was bright red.

She looked cute trying her best not to lose, but when I looked back down, it wasn’t cute at all.

One side with breasts. The other side with hips.

It’s truly a magnificent battle on both fronts.

‘…Why am I comparing them again?’

I don’t know why I’m comparing them. Whether it’s female pride or something else, both women refuse to back down.

It’s like watching a fire from across the river, except I’m not just observing from afar but occasionally adding fuel to the flames.

“I-I have that too! Look!”

Perhaps feeling some sense of crisis, Cecilly suddenly stood up and placed her hands on her waist.

Then, just as Arwen had done, she slid them down, and while she’s definitely above average, she falls slightly short compared to Arwen.

Not only does Arwen have excellent hips, but her waist is also very slender, making it incomparable. Being short might be a disadvantage, but due to elven characteristics, her proportions are so good that she doesn’t seem short at all.

After confirming this, Arwen wore a triumphant expression and spoke boldly.

“It’s laughable to compare with just that. So, Issac, which do you prefer?”

“What? Suddenly?”

“Yes, Issac. You prefer breasts, right? You touch mine every night.”

No. Why are you suddenly bringing me into this? This situation perfectly embodies the saying about a shrimp getting its back broken in a whale fight.

To be honest, I do like breasts, but when I look at Arwen, I’m also drawn to her hips.

Even in my previous life, there was a saying that when a man looks at a woman, he first looks at her hips. It’s a kind of instinct deeply embedded in our genes.

While I was lost in these unnecessary thoughts, Arwen seemed to sense something odd and blinked, asking Cecilly:

“…Every night? What do you mean by touching every night?”

“Huh?”

“Ah.”

Come to think of it, Arwen had no idea that Cecilly and I were intimate at night.

Though an embarrassing truth was revealed, Cecilly wasn’t flustered at all.

No, she seemed to see this as an opportunity and smiled deeply. It was an expression filled with her characteristic playfulness.

“Oh my. I see Your Majesty didn’t know. Are you aware that Issac and I are in a romantic relationship?”

“I-I knew that, but… at night… No, before that, aren’t you the Princess of Helium? I can understand Marie since she’s human, but you…”

Arwen looked at me and Cecilly alternately with confused silver-gray eyes. I scratched my head and gave a bitter smile.

It seemed the magnificent battle was heading in a different direction.

“Your Majesty knows everything. When in a romantic relationship, things naturally heat up like a volcano. It’s the same for Issac and me. We do it at least once every three days.”

“…”

“Me being the Princess of Helium? That’s not a problem at all. Why? Because Issac is the author of the Biography of Xenon. What’s wrong with offering my body to the benefactor who saved the demon race?”

There’s a high level of psychology at play here. If Cecilly had said they were in a loving relationship, Arwen might have counterattacked.

But by mentioning a compelling “justification” for falling in love, as stated above, Arwen couldn’t say much in response.

‘Of course, she probably likes me as a person more…’

The game was essentially over. The battle between elf and demon had unexpectedly turned into a contest of hips versus breasts, and the result was Arwen’s defeat.

What Cecilly wanted to convey was that no matter how much Arwen boasted, it meant nothing without an actual relationship.

In other words, regardless of hips or whatever, there’s no comparison unless bodies are intertwined.

“So, Your Majesty, no matter how superior your hips are, they have no meaning to Issac. Do you understand?”

“…”

Was Arwen so unwilling to lose after these consecutive attacks?

She hesitated a bit, glanced at me once, then squeezed her eyes shut. Her pale white skin turned bright red, reminiscent of a tomato.

Then, after mumbling for a moment, Arwen exclaimed loudly:

“That’s unfair!”

“What?”

“Arwen?”

What followed from Arwen was…

“Then let me also have a night with Issac!”

Something seriously misaligned.

“That’s the only way to make a fair comparison!”

It was elven communism.