By now, Dumbledore had already learned about the elves' legend from Arwen. He looked at Sean with a complicated expression before turning to Arwen.
"May I try?"
"You may."
Dumbledore stepped onto the stone, but after only a few seconds, he stepped back down. Even the elves themselves didn't know what criteria the Golden Sword used to choose its wielder, so in Arwen's eyes, anyone who tried had a chance.
But Sean now understood the truth—only those whose magical density met the minimum standard of the Golden Adventure Group, the very ancestors of wizards, could draw the sword. Dumbledore couldn't do it. Arwen couldn't do it. Among those Sean knew, only the mysterious Ogadis, with his terrifying magical density, might qualify. As for Haerpo at his peak… it was uncertain.
Sean denied having moved the sword. Although Arwen and Linda were suspicious, they reasoned it away—if he truly could draw it, why wouldn't he? After all, drawing the sword meant becoming the leader of the elves. In the end, they convinced themselves they must have seen it wrong.
Sean and Dumbledore stayed at Arwen's home. The two-story wooden house didn't even have a guest room. The elves had no tradition of hosting guests—because they never had any.
Arwen laid out two fox-fur blankets beside the fireplace in the living room. That was where Sean and Dumbledore slept.
The fire crackled warmly, the occasional pop of burning wood breaking the silence. Sean lay on his side, back facing Dumbledore, his mind in turmoil.
"To draw it… or not?"
"If I draw the sword, the elves will likely follow their ancestral rules and acknowledge me as their leader. Then I could order them to remove the marks and let us leave. But in return… I'd have to protect them."
Sean hesitated.
The people from that other world—were they enemies or allies? From Selwyn's tone, they didn't sound friendly. It was only a matter of time before they found Earth, and when they did, they would undoubtedly be powerful.
"What if I draw the sword… and abandon the elves?"
That would be the simplest solution. Selwyn hadn't forced him or bound him with magic. The choice was entirely his.
And precisely because of that, Sean couldn't bring himself to act so coldly.
"But if I don't draw it… I'll have to find another way out."
For once, he was truly at a loss.
At that moment, Dumbledore's quiet voice came from behind him.
"Sean… why didn't you draw the sword?"
Sean's heart skipped. He had no idea how Dumbledore knew he was still awake—or how he was so certain Sean could draw it.
"Professor, you must have seen wrong. There's no way I could pull it out," Sean replied, still facing away.
"I am your headmaster. That kind of acting won't fool me," Dumbledore said calmly.
Sean sighed inwardly. As expected, nothing could be hidden from someone like him. Unlike Arwen and Linda, Dumbledore was an outsider—he saw things more clearly.
"Professor… I was shocked too. I didn't expect the sword to move at all," Sean admitted, rolling onto his back.
"If you could move it, why didn't you draw it?" Dumbledore asked.
The two of them, old and young, found themselves in an unexpected late-night conversation.
Instead of answering directly, Sean asked, "Professor, have you ever heard of the Golden Adventure Group?"
Dumbledore thought carefully. "No."
"What about Captain Stafford?"
"No. Is he part of the magical world?"
Sean thought to himself—he's not just part of it, he's one of its founders. If even Dumbledore didn't know, then this ancient history had likely been lost entirely.
Selwyn couldn't reveal anything about the other world. Perhaps he hadn't even told his descendants about the Golden Adventure Group.
After some thought, Sean decided not to share what he had learned. According to Selwyn's arrangement, the sword was meant to be drawn by someone from that other world. Yet it had responded to him instead—and revealed secrets it shouldn't have.
Those secrets… would bring nothing but disaster to Earth's wizards.
Dumbledore was already struggling with Voldemort and Haerpo. There was no need to burden him further.
"When I moved the sword, I saw a fragment of Selwyn's memory. It mentioned the Golden Adventure Group and Captain Stafford," Sean said.
Dumbledore was intrigued by the Golden Adventure Group, but even more so by Selwyn himself.
"You truly saw Selwyn?"
Sean sat up, staring into the flickering fire. "Yes. He said that whoever draws the sword becomes the leader of the elves. But… I can't bear that responsibility."
He deliberately omitted certain details, altering the meaning of his words.
"Protecting an entire race is indeed a heavy burden," Dumbledore said, also sitting up. "So you chose to give it up?"
"Yes. I can't carry it."
Dumbledore didn't seem surprised. Instead, he said, "If this was the rule set by the elves' ancestor, then it should be followed. Perhaps you're not strong enough yet… but one day, you will be."
"Once you draw the sword, you can have them remove the marks and let us leave. That is the priority."
His meaning was clear—he wanted Sean to draw the sword.
"Understood, Professor," Sean replied, lying back down.
Neither of them slept that night.
Before dawn, Sean quietly wrapped himself in his robe and slipped outside. Dumbledore, who hadn't slept either, watched him leave and wondered if he had made the right choice.
By the time Sean returned, Arwen had just woken up. Still groggy, she squinted at what he was holding—then her eyes widened.
"I must still be dreaming… the Holy Sword has been pulled out!"
Sean stood in the living room, holding the sword upright with both hands, as if he had simply returned from a morning walk.
"I've drawn the sword. Can the marks on our arms be removed now?" he asked calmly.
"Wait—yesterday you said you couldn't pull it out. What changed?" Arwen hurried over, astonished.
Sean repeated the same explanation he had given Dumbledore the night before. Arwen listened, her expression growing troubled.
The elves' ancestral law was clear—whoever drew the sword would lead the elves. But everyone believed only the strong could do so.
Sean was only thirteen.
How could he possibly lead them? And how could the others accept him?
"Come with me. We need to see Chief Kevin immediately," Arwen said seriously.
The sword had been drawn at dawn. No one else knew yet. She needed to discuss with Kevin how to handle this—because if they truly followed tradition and made Sean their leader, many would oppose it.
"Selwyn… it seems your authority isn't absolute after all," Sean thought. He had already anticipated resistance. He was an outsider, young, and not particularly powerful. It would be hard to convince anyone.
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