Death Desert, Sandstorm City.
The Primordial Elf, Serandir, sat in the Dwarf Tavern, clinking glasses with a few enthusiastic female players, enjoying the leisurely afternoon.
Ever since she was dispatched by the Mother Goddess to the Death Desert to deal with the Half-Beast affairs, her days had become increasingly comfortable.
The main reason was that the Chosen Ones were exceptionally competent.
If there was any troublesome matter, she could direct them to handle it.
These brave warriors who loved to fight generally weren't very bright.
As long as the quest system was used effectively, many tasks didn't require her personal involvement, and the dirty and tiring work could be handed over to the Chosen Ones.
Although the workload wasn't small, for Serandir, it was more relaxing than being in the Elf Forest.
In the Elf Forest, she had to frequently engage in church affairs, liaise with the elves, and many things she had to handle personally.
