Shadows of the Elven Forest

by Peronronchinos Dad

South of the Six Demihuman Nations in the center of the New World lie a vast, emerald forest. Two warring elf kingdoms fight for dominance underneath the shades of their forest's trees. Meanwhile, an undead threat lurks beneath a sea of crimson leaves.

11. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Dilos Volundiil was absolutely livid. He had lost a magical crystal he had acquired over two centuries ago from a long gone, far away kingdom, with the intention to study it after unlocking the secrets of soul magic. Since the fruits of his research never blossomed into any meaningful applications to current magical knowledge, he was looking forward to finally researching the functionality of the magic-sealing crystal, and the secrets it held on the storage of magical power. Current methods to store power was limited and crude; only tiers up to the third tier could be stored in scrolls and wands. For higher tiered spells, one would need an absurd amount of rare material components, which meant it was far more economical to simply wait for mana to replenish to use a higher tier spell. The crystal, however, seemed to hold a significant amount of mana, far in excess of anything Dilos possessed then, and even now. So despite his inability to feel emotions, ripples of anger seemed to physically distort the air around him, although nothing was really happening.

He had returned to his home in the city of the dead to find the guards he posted there utterly destroyed by someone, despite the surrounding undead completely undisturbed. Fearing the worst, he dropped off his latest acquisition, the Death Lord, into a corner, and began rummaging through his collection of magical artifacts, and lo and behold, the crystal was gone. At first, he suspected that a rival Lich might have stolen it from him. After all, it made the most logical sense. They were fellow undead, which meant that the undead outside wouldn't bother to react to their presence, and they could easily destroy his undead guards posted outside. However, he would have noticed signs of magic used to crumble his undead. He would have seen scorch marks, or corrosion, or any other sign of magical interference in his home. The remains of his guards, who were not his summons, but rather, other dominated undead that were under his control, indicated a clean stab wound from the back that somehow liberated the negative energy powering the unlife of his guards, implying an individual with incredibly talented rogue skills. Perhaps, had he used skeletal summons instead of undead domination, they would've been able to kill the intruder.

The intruder's skill in infiltration does not vindicate his colleagues' involvement, however. It would not be below them to hire a rogue of some sort to steal the research of others, despite this violating the terms of agreement when joining the Abyss Corpus. He would need to launch a discrete investigation into his colleagues, and gauge if they had come across a more efficient manner of mana storage than currently available. This was troublesome for Dilos, since his fellow undead Liches were immune to his Charm spells, so he would have to choose his words wisely. None of his colleagues in the Abyss Corpus were supposed to know about his magic-sealing crystal. The next meeting was due in a few months' time. While Dilos was perhaps not the absolute strongest Lich in the Corpus, he was still one of their more powerful and senior members, so he had clout, leeway, and influence within the society. Seeing as how he was one of the few rare Liches able to cast the much coveted 8th tier spells, perhaps he can share or trade some knowledge on Soul Magic, which he knew sounded intriguing at first, but ultimately worthless in the end, for some gossip and tidbits of what the other Liches were up to. One of them should be able to offer a clue or give away some hidden detail of the culprit. Once he finds out who stole from him, he would notify the other members, and either vote to expel or kill the offending member if necessary.

On the other hand, Dilos might be going down the wrong path, and a sufficiently powerful and independent thief had stolen his crystal, and sold it off somewhere that would take forever to find. Luckily, as Dilos was an undead, he can spend a literal eternity to track the crystal down, and he also had a massive army of undead to work with. In the case that his colleagues were innocent, Dilos would have to scour the surrounding lands for traces of his magic-sealing crystal. The closest civilization would be the elven nations to the south, the humanoid/demihuman mix nations and tribes spanning the entirety of the west, the worthless goblin nation to the south east, and the so-called Six Great Demihuman nations to the north. He had no idea what laid to the east, although he had heard rumors of a powerful Platinum-scaled dragon ruling over the countries there, and Dilos was not equipped to contend with dragons yet.

Dilos pondered to himself. With his new acquisition, theoretically, based on its abilities, it could expand his hold on other undead by a significant amount. He could probably afford to tackle both the investigation of his colleagues on top of scouring the surrounding lands for his crystal. He turned to the Death Lord.

"How many undead left are under your control in the blood forest to the south?"

5,000, it uttered in its terrible voice.

Dilos stared at the Death Lord in disbelief, but also in delight. It caught him completely off guard with its response. He did not expect a number that high. He casted [Fly], and flew to a place where he would store the bodies of several Demihuman bodies, all obtained while they were stupid enough to to travel through this city believing it was a shortcut into the elven lands. He selected one at random.

[Raise Low-Tier Undead: Black Counterfeiter Elder Lich].

The body of a beastman lurched. Black ooze boiled up from the ground, and consumed the entire body. It shifted and molded under the black mirth, before it all fell away. Replacing it was the skeletal body of a kneeling Elder Lich draped in tattered black robes. Dilos repeated this a few more times, using up his daily limit of Elder Liches.

"Follow me."

"Of course, master."

They both floated into the sky, and back to where the Death Lord stood, awaiting further instructions.

"You. Give control of several of hundred of your undead to these Liches, so that they may perform their task with haste."

Dilos turned to his recent summons.

"To you I give your task: find my magic-sealing crystal. It is a glowing, blue-hued crystal, which shines as if imbued with an incredible amount of mana. Find the thief who stole my crystal, kill it, and bring its body to me so that I may study it, and turn it into my slave. Collect all magic items from the surrounding lands as compensation for my grievances, and kill any who opposes me."

The Elder Liches bowed low.

"We hear and obey."

—

When Dilos felt his connection to one of his summons abruptly disappear, he knew something was wrong. What he did not expect was to meet another being of unparalleled power, one that nearly approaches his own strength. It was using spells he had never even seen before, and the worst part was that it was merely from a part of the elf boy's shadow.

Dilos would have to proceed carefully from now on. He still felt supremely confident that next time, he would be prepared for that mysterious spell that the elf casted. What troubled him was that he was very familiar with most negative or necromantic spells that existed in this world. While he could not cast all of them, he had expansive notes on the subject matter from previous research collaborations with other Liches from the Abyss Corpus. The spell was unlike anything Dilos has ever seen. He held the impression that, were he to touch the oily ink, he would have lost quite a bit of unlife vitality to the spell, and that was a rare phenomenon to witness. This turn of events surprised Dilos so much that he abruptly teleported away in panic, which was the source of his humiliation.

His anger flared up in waves. He was so absolutely infuriated that even with his emotional suppression calming him down, his fury merely ignites again when he thought back to the events in the blood forest. His crystal, he had a feeling, was gone. It was a completely wasted research opportunity, and he had to kill the creature that it had summoned as well. There was no other way to explain its abrupt presence. It was of decent strength: if it were to fight his minion, the Death Lord, it would probably win. That implied that the amount of mana one could store into a magic-sealing crystal would be enormous, perhaps even enough to store Dilos's most potent spells, and Dilos internally howled at the missed opportunity. The fact that the elves had the audacity to resist his almighty power as well further fueled his rage.

Dilos clenched his fist, and slammed it against an ancient, brittle stone wall. It was easily pulverized by a level of strength one would not expect from a skeletal magic caster. Besides him, he could feel the Death Lord stiffen up, as if aware of his fury. As a fellow undead, he understood that it took a lot to cause fear, yet his sheer presence alone was enough to evoke such a response.

"I want you to control the undead of this city. I want to raise an army of the dead, and raze the elves to the ground."

The Death Lord bowed, and stomped off without a word. At first, he considered gathering his Liches back to the city of the dead, but he decided against it, as he still wished to obtain other magic items to study. Perhaps they might be lucky enough to find a suitable replacement to his magic-sealing crystal, however unlikely that may be. And if it prompted a military response from the outside world, what difference does it make? All it will do is provide more bodies for Dilos to turn into undead slaves. He had heard of other Liches creating massive laboratories with hundreds of undead guards and minions aiding in the more mundane and monotonous tasks, like the collection of supplies and materials for research. Dilos has worked by himself for nearly a decade in his research into the Death Spiral phenomenon, the Soul Magic theory, and field observations of a high level undead. Prior to that, most of his research and studies were done alone or in a research collaboration with a fellow Lich. The thought of having aid was starting to become more and more appealing. After he annihilated the Elven nations to his south, he might consider using their bodies to create minions, and perhaps, with the help of his Lich colleague, who had hopefully figured out a way to create the Death Spiral phenomenon by now, create additional necropolises similar to their blood forest and this city. This was the only way the elves could pay back for their offense.

—

The sun was still a couple of hours away from reaching the center of the sky overhead, when King Manye appeared with a female elf with an air of seductive beauty and elegance. She appeared to be a couple of hundred years younger than King Manye, although Rinciquilde knew, from his history books, that that couldn't be true, since both were around the same age, born when the war between the Nutanae and the Ambaron first sparked. She moved as if she was constantly stalking prey, with such precise and silent footwork that astonished even Rinciquilde. Her voluptuous figure was clearly accented by her tight-fitting wear, as if she was aware of how bewitching her beauty could be. This made Rinciquilde even more guarded. As usual, being an undead, Kotaro didn't seem phased at all when he saw Queen Macil. Seeing Queen Macil in person for the first time in his life, Rinciquilde instantly came to the conclusion that she was strong, just like King Manye, but not approaching the level of power Kotaro had. This made Rinciquilde wonder if this was why the Ambaron Queen came here alone, unattended: because in her arrogance, she believed nothing could kill her. When she saw Rinciquilde, for a moment, he thought he could see a brief flash of tenderness in her cold, blue eyes, before it quickly clouded up into an emotionless stare. She sized up both Rinciquilde and Kotaro with those eyes, and snorted in displeasure.

"I do not see anything special in the elf with the demon mask. You are a fool, King of the Savages, for wasting my time."

King Manye snorted as well.

"Allow me to drag you down from your tree, my Princess, and unveil the truth behind his deceptive appearance."

Queen Macil shot King Manye an icy glare, but like how a great lion would ignore the bleating of sheep, he completely shrugged off her stare with a bored look on his golden eyes.

"Kotaro, I believe it is time you proved your worth. I believed the boy when he said you had made that Death Lich retreat. Let us see if you can convince the Princess."

"Do NOT call me a princess again."

King Manye gave Queen Macil a smirk, as if daring her to make a move. Glaring even more sharper than before, she quickly withdrew a knife from her bosom. Before Rinciquilde could react, she threw the knife at Kotaro with all her might, who simply plucked the knife from the air, and examined it, as if he were never in any danger. Rinciquilde's heartbeat raced when he realized what happened. The knife had traveled so fast, his eyes couldn't even keep up with it, and yet, Kotaro made it seem like he was simply picking up a knife he saw floating towards him midair. If the knife were directed towards him instead, Rinciquilde would have undoubtedly died, and not know what killed him.

"Intricately forged mithril, as expected of Elven-made items. Quite ancient too, so this knife must have seen some history. No rust, just normal wear, common for material like mithril. Unfortunately, unenchanted... Although given the worthless amount of data capacity mithril-made weapons seem to have, I doubt that you could hurt me even if this was enchanted."

He gently tossed the knife back to Queen Macil, who gave him a dumbfounded look, before quickly recovering.

"A simple test... Even your King would not be harmed by an attack like that. You are still nothing special to me. Disappointing."

She turned to King Manye.

"You and I have a lot to discuss."

King Manye sighed.

"My d- Princess, do you not think it is time to let him know, at least? I cannot keep up with this charade any longer, and the flimsy excuse might not even work..."

Queen Macil's eyes widened, and her lips were shaped into a small "o". She quickly glanced at Kotaro and Rinciquilde, before her face resumed into her usual glare.

"NEVER mention anything. You owe me that much."

"Yes, yes, I guess so..."

King Manye visibly slumped a bit, making him look quite pathetic. With their body language, it almost appeared as if he was bowing to Queen Macil. Kotaro placed a hand on his chin, and softly mumbled to himself.

"Interesting..."

Rinciquilde, however, couldn't stand seeing his King in this state any longer. He shouted at Queen Macil.

"His Majesty owes you nothing, treacherous Queen! Release him from whatever binds you have placed on him!"

He reached for his daggers from his waist while heading forwards, but before he could act, Kotaro prevented him from moving by placing his hand in front of his chest, and stepping in front of him. He wondered why Kotaro would do that, before a terrifying wave of killing intent washed over him. He looked over at the two monarchs, and for a moment, it appeared that Queen Macil had grown in size, and her wide, blue eyes were now directed towards him instead of King Manye. The fact that King Manye could endure such murderous intent without even flinching speaks to his ability as a hero of the Nutanae. Rinciquilde could feel a deep and unsettling chill running down his spine, and his eyes widened in fear. Cold sweat appeared on his face, and he shivered uncontrollably. Instantly, he was reminded of the time the Death Knight came bearing down on him. This felt exactly the same way. He couldn't help but find solace behind Kotaro's back, who stood there like a large, ancient tree, serving as a bastion against a powerful and unyielding gust of wind.

"Step aside, elf. This is no place for you. The little onwë must be taught a lesson for defying his superior."

"Hm? This is actual killing intent..."

Kotaro crossed his arms, evidently unintimidated by the Ambaron Queen.

"Don't do something you're going to regret. If he gets hurt, I'll get mad."

While Kotaro said that with a very calm voice, one could hear the steel undertones in his words. He was actually threatening Queen Macil, a feat no mortal elf would do unless they're confident in their own abilities. Of course, only Rinciquilde was truly aware of what Kotaro could do, but the other two elves seemed to understand that Kotaro had to have held some degree of power to be able to behave like that. Before things could escalate further, King Manye quickly placed himself in between Kotaro and Queen Macil.

"I implore both of you, please calm yourselves. Princess, you'd better stop that, before I, too, get angry. Forgive the soldier, for he knows nothing about matters that are clearly way above his rank. And child, I am confident that there are no magic binds in this world that can control me. I owe Queen Macil a favor from many centuries ago, and I must repay it at some point. It is a simple transaction... Nothing more."

Rinciquilde frowned, but after experiencing true terror for the third time in his life, he felt it was best to just let it go. If it weren't for Kotaro standing in front of him, he probably would have been reduced to a pitiful, blubbering mess, with a puddle of urine spreading around him. The shameful display would have been an affront to the King, as no Nutanae soldier was permitted to show fear to the enemy. Queen Macil huffed, and rolled her eyes.

"Hmph. The red-faced one seemed to have been unfazed... I suppose that should be on par with my Yára Ohtatyaro at least."

"Yes... The Yára Ohtatyaro. Perhaps it's time to test Kotaro's skill with the best of our warriors."

Queen Macil seemed to hesitate, before sighing.

"My own Yára Ohtatyaro are currently in a mission, and are unable to accompany me. I am technically not allowed to venture out without being accompanied by all of my personal house troops."

"Hm? No bodyguards... That is dangerous for you."

Rinciquilde stared at Queen Macil from behind Kotaro's back in confusion. Why would she give King Manye private information that puts her at a disadvantage? He came to the conclusion that she believed King Manye was too honorable to use that information, even against his mortal enemies. Being protected by multiple individuals equal in strength to King Manye's Viyn Maica would similarly be equal to the protective power of the Yára Ohtatyaro, and might also place the burden of providing strength into the battlefield on the Nutanae to assure victory. Rinciquilde couldn't help but feel that, between Kotaro's asking price and the increasing burden on the Nutanae military forces, the Ambaron had nothing but gains in this deal. Still, to risk one's life on an enemy's honor and integrity was a huge gamble.

"Indeed. Therefore, my Yára Ohtatyaro cannot do what you're implying they should do."

"Then, my own Yára Ohtatyaro should be enough to test his might."

"Wait a moment, King Manye. I don't know if I can hold back. I propose another challenge, if it will ease your worries in my perceived worthiness, one that will be much more challenging than what you might be proposing."

King Manye raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Do share."

"Your Yára Ohtatyaro will not be able to land a single strike on this body. If I receive a single nick on my armor, I have failed your test. If I attack any of your warriors during their offensive against me, I fail the test. Afterwards, I shall bind your warriors with nin... shall we say, an inescapable form of magic. If they break free, I shall fail your test. However, if no marks in my body can be found, and no elf could escape my... spell, then I will be declared the victor. The time limits shall be up to your discretion."

Both King Manye and Queen Macil stared at Kotaro as if he had just proposed some impossible notion that could never be accomplished. If stamina and mental focus was never a factor, then perhaps a single Yára Ohtatyaro could survive an onslaught of attacks from the Viyn Maica if he or she were outnumbered five to one. But to escape completely unscathed, even after merely a short period of time, without striking down a single opponent... That was an impossible feat. If one were to factor in the amount of teamwork the Viyn Maica has, who trained together vigorously for centuries, and knew each other's blind spots, strengths, weakness, and how to fill in the gaps left by each elf's weakness, it might even be impossible for a single Yára Ohtatyaro to escape unharmed. The Yára Ohtatyaro were on a completely different level by comparison. The test Kotaro proposed was simply impossible to accomplish by anyone in the world.

"Oh, and one more thing... I won't even use my stealth. That would be cheating."

Then, at that moment, the shadowed, blurry lines that surround Kotaro, which made his form difficult to make out despite the sun shining down on him, suddenly sharpened. His body no longer seemed out of focus, and one could see more clearly the make of his equipment. Shining, golden threads outlined his armor, forming a beautiful and intricate trim that complemented the dark-blue background of his armor. His presence was also somehow more clearly felt, as if previously, Kotaro seemed to be a mere cheap visual illusion, while now, their other sense confirmed his presence. Along with a more defined presence, the other elves could somehow feel that Kotaro held a level of power they simply could not comprehend, but was trying to mask it behind a loosely veiled wall.

"I... I shall call for my warriors. Princess, please conceal your presence while the battle is underway."

Queen Macil could only nod.

—

Five Elven warriors, all older than the war itself, and could still remember a time when they could behold the glory of the Dragon god, gathered in a small, hidden oasis within the Bloodied Zone. It was too small to be considered worthy of fortifying into a Place of Respite, but large enough for elves who know about this place to take some time off to relax without having to worry about undead intrusions. This was a secret location that King Manye had found, and had spent much of his time here while mulling about the Death Lich. Only he and his Yára Ohtatyaro knew about this place.

The warriors wore shining, golden armor, and were armed with golden weapons. Their skin almost blended in color with their armor, such that one could believe that these elves had spent so much time with their armor that they've nearly merged with it. While one would expect gold armor to be incredibly expensive as well as utterly worthless, if one were to actually test the strength of the armor, they would have been shocked at how tough it was. Aurumil was the perfect metal. It was lightweight, so much more than steel, and more durable and harder than even adamantite. The weapons were incredibly easy to handle, such that one could swing their sword or spear for an extended period of time and still not tire out. The weapons were so sharp, even if they were unenchanted, it could hew through steel armor, skin, flesh, and bone with ease, like the proverbial hot knife through butter. Such was the panoply that the Yára Ohtatyaro were equipped with: they had the equipment worthy of heroes amongst a legion of heroes.

Opposite them stood an elf clad in black, with a gold trim outline, and an ugly red demon mask to hide his face. The black eyeholes seemed to taunt them as he slowly approached them. In his hands were two daggers of seemingly unbelievable quality, perhaps even exceeding that of the Aurumil weapons that the Yára Ohtatyaro wielded. He was, they were told, a dangerous enemy that was to be exterminated with the utmost prejudice, who had failed to assassinate King Manye. They were to ambush him here, though it appeared that he was already aware of their presence. They did not question why they had to meet him here, only that they must exterminate the enemy. Still, to openly challenge the King and flee like a coward was something the Yára Ohtatyaro had expected from the Ambaron. The spear-elf, Lord Ataryo, nodded, and his ranger comrades, Lady Unotima and Lady Furin, withdrew their bows, nocked an arrow, and fired warning shots towards the criminal. He appeared unfazed, and kept walking towards them, with the arrows whizzing mere centimeters away from his head. Ataryo grunted in frustration. He preferred to see criminals flee in fear before their might before he cut them down. He nodded again. This time, the shots would be deadly. The rangers each let loose two arrows in quick succession. To their amazement, their adversary easily swatted the arrow shots away as if they were mere flies. The enchanted bows of the Yára Ohtatyaro arsenal were not the product of mere magical enchantment of the modern era. They were blessed by the divine soul magic of Aur's mate, Yuvon, to always puncture through any enemy's defenses, no matter how thick the shield or armor. This was how the fabled Yára Ohtatyaro during the Age of Dragons slew the lesser dragon-gods who defied Aur's might in Nutanae song and stories. The only way to counteract this ability was to parry the impossibly fast flight of the arrows. The only ones capable of doing this to some degree were Lord Nirme and Lord Telimectar, and the enemy Yára Ohtatyaro from the Ambaron. And even then, it was questionable if they could parry every shot made. Was this elf one of the Ambaron's own Yára Ohtatyaro? Why would they sacrifice the life of one of their most valuable soldiers?

The elf continued to walk towards them. Angered by this nonchalant attitude towards them, Ataryo ordered the attack.

"Drammhae."

The two master sword-elves exploded from their positions, with dirt flying in the air from their sudden acceleration. They approached the elf from the flanks, and swung from behind, with one aiming for the legs and the other aiming for the head. At the same time, the rangers pelted the elf from the front, aiming for body shots with pinpoint accuracy. It was impossible for the elf to escape. The body would soon be headless, torso riddled with arrows, and legs severed from the body.

However...

Again, the elf amazed Ataryo. He instead charged forward, in a complete reversal of what they expected him to do. Just like before, he easily swatted away the arrows that were aiming for his body, and the swords that swung from behind narrowly missed, cutting nothing but air as the elves abruptly stopped themselves from colliding into each other with sheer muscle power. They then turned towards the black-clad elf, and started to engage him in melee combat. Rather than risk shooting at their comrades, the rangers put down their bows, and motioned for their adamantite swords. Ataryo held up his hand, and stopped them. He was confident that the two sword-elves could finish the job. Their speed were unparalleled, even when compared to the Yára Ohtatyaro sword-elves the Ambaron had, despite their old age. Or, perhaps, it was precisely because of their ancient experience that they could move so quickly.

Nirme and Telimectar moved fluidly, constantly changing positions and complementing each other's blows. They carried each strike with massive force, capable of easily penetrating castle walls, and with dizzying speeds. They always hit with perfect synergy, reading each other's movements and thoughts through literal centuries of practice and live combat. There would be only very few in the world that could match their strength.

And yet...

Just as they perfectly time each strike, each strike was perfectly parried. Each shield bash was countered and avoided. Every Martial Art they used didn't seem to faze the assassin at all, as if their blows were nothing more than a child swinging with a wooden practice sword. His daggers swung with preternatural speed, blurs that even the two master sword-elves didn't know were physically possible. And yet, they could feel, in the heat of battle, that the assassin was holding back. With every strike that was countered, they were thrown a little bit off balanced. With the speed that the assassin demonstrated, he could have easily countered with a strike of his own, and yet, he didn't. With every wasted Martial Art expended, the strain on their joints, muscles, and mental focus slowed their reaction and speed ever so slightly. As much as the proud Yára Ohtatyaro didn't want to admit, they could not land a single strike, no matter how minute, let alone deal a finishing blow.

"Tch."

Ataryo was starting to get annoyed. He didn't expect the black-clad elf to last this long against them. The only individual who had lasted this long against them was the Death Knight-cum-Lord, and not only was it heavily outnumbered, it was also slowly suffering a death by a thousand cuts. This time, it felt different. As if the elf was merely toying with them. An Ambaron elf toying with the legendary Nutanae Yára Ohtatyaro was something Ataryo could not afford to allow to happen. He turned to the rangers, and ordered them to make precision shots.

"Uopilin."

They nodded, withdrew their bows again, and started nocking arrows only when they saw an opening. It did not make a difference. As if protected by some unseen barrier, every arrow they fire bounced away after reaching a certain distance. Ataryo could barely make out the blur of daggers that came streaking out from behind just as an arrow was about to make contact, before quickly disappearing to parry another impossibly fast strike from the master sword-elves. Feeling that he had seen enough, Ataryo readied the spear in his hand. When his comrades fired another wave of arrows, he charged off himself, his speed matching the flight of the arrows. He leapt into the air, spear poised for a strike from above. Every elf knew what he intended to do, and they aimed for a simultaneous strike, such that this assassin couldn't dodge or parry them all.

Ataryo strengthened himself with a plethora of Martial Arts, before his spear came thundering down. Simultaneously, Nirme and Telimectar swung at him from the front, and the arrows from behind were about to land. Ataryo felt that victory was close at hand...

"[Shadow-Veiled Wall]."

...Until his vision was clouded. He was unable to see, nor was he able to move his spear. He could hear a sharp intake of breath from his startled comrades, the muffled thudding of arrows that hit something soft, and then the clattering of wood as the arrows fell down to the forest soil. He let go of his spear, which was stuck protruding in the air, embedded within a wall of black. It appeared to have no solid form, rather, it seemed to have a soft, inky consistency. It rose up three meters high, just tall enough to block Ataryo's strike from above. Every elf stood in confusion. They had never seen anything like this in the centuries they were alive. The shadowed wall slowly faded away, seemingly draining back into its source: the elf with the demon mask. The moment the shadows faded away, every Yára Ohtatyaro did not waste a single second. Ataryo, Nirme, and Telimectar all descended upon him at once, with Ataryo picking up his spear as he ran towards the assassin. They did not question if the enemy was able to do that again, all they cared about was the execution of this threat, who was becoming more and more dangerous in their eyes the longer they fought.

The occasional arrow flit through the air, sometimes mere centimeters away from the fluidly moving bodies of the attacking elves. Clangs of an even more furious battle raged as the assassin tested the legendary skill of the most powerful elves in the Nutanae. The three Yára Ohtatyaro engaged in melee combat struck faster and faster, speeding up for every failed swipe or thrust. Their bodies were pushed to their physical limit for the first time in nearly two centuries as they reached the point where they almost had no more stamina and mental focus to use offensive Martial Arts. And as they sped up, the assassin in turn would speed up with them, showing no real exertion on his stamina, nor any limit to his speed, nor any wavering in his confidence. If he was exhausted from using his Martial Arts, his body language never gave that away.

Just as the Yára Ohtatyaro were about to reach their limit, the assassin disappeared. Every elf stopped their weapons in the nick of time, with each blade or point about to pierce each other. They all looked around in confusion, before they heard yelps coming from behind Ataryo. That was a strange sound to Ataryo, as it was beneath the Yára Ohtatyaro to create such noises. And yet, when he turned around, he could see the elderly rangers stiff from fear. In front of them was the red-masked elf, with his hand forming a strange sign. When Ataryo looked closer at his comrades, he could see that they were not frozen from fear, but rather, their movements were restricted by black tendrils that snaked out from the assassin's shadow.

Ataryo nodded to his fellow comrades, and exploded towards the assassin, expressions on their faces clearly enraged by the latest attack of their enemy. They had to save the rangers. However, when they were about three meters or so away from striking range, their bodies suddenly stopped, as if something was preventing them from moving. The same shadow tendrils that ensnared the rangers had also caught hold of Ataryo and the two master sword-elves. No matter how mightily they struggled, none of them could break free from their bonds. One could hear the creaking of armor as each elf struggled with all their might to try and break free from whatever foul magic the assassin placed upon them.

"Yes. Struggle as hard as you can. If not... Your king might die."

The ugly red demon turned to Nirme.

"Do you have a secret technique to break free from binds? Please, use them now."

He was taunting them. Mocking their inability to protect their king. From an Ambaron elf, no less. This was unacceptable. Ataryo's own muscles were screaming for rest, and his breathing became ragged with exhaustion, but he continued to fight with all his might. He could not let this elf lay a single finger on their beloved king. He let out a rage-filled howl. But it was no use. How was it possible that the Ambaron had an elf this powerful?

"I admire your dedication to King Manye. He is in very capable hands. Well... I believe it is time."

As the strange elf uttered those words, a bewitchingly beautiful female elf, a boy dressed in Nutanae colors, and their king teleported into the hidden oasis.

"By my authority as your King, stand down. You have all done well."

The five Yára Ohtatyaro stared in astonishment at King Manye, then at each other, and then in confusion at the female elf besides him. Ataryo spoke for all of them when he voiced his confusion and fear. This could be a trap, and their King's life was endangered.

"My... My King! Please, flee!"

King Manye glanced at Queen Macil, who folded her arms in amused curiosity.

"Yes, I'm aware of her presence. She's here for a reason too. However, you must trust me when I say this: stand down. My life is not in danger. Drop your arms."

The Yára Ohtatyaro all did as they were told, and dropped the weapons that they were holding. They were the tools of the king, thus, they were compelled to obey his command. The strange masked man released his bindings on them, and crossed his arms, nodding in approval. He did not move to attack their king.

"For them to push me to use defensive ninjutsu... At their level too... Perhaps I've overestimated my own abilities. Hm? Or maybe I've grown rusty...?"

Freed from their bindings, the Yára Ohtatyaro stared at the elf clad in black in confusion. Was this not an Ambaron assassin? King Manye noticed this, and explained what was going on.

"I must first apologize for deceiving you. You have served me and my father loyally for over half a millennia, and yet, I forced you into a battle you could not win. I hope you can accept my apology. That elf is not an assassin out to kill me. You merely served as a way to test his strength, and we had to deceive you to bring out your full strength."

King Manye bowed his head at his Yára Ohtatyaro. Ataryo, taken aback by his master's humility, quickly protruded himself in front of King Manye. His comrades simultaneously bowed as well, each feeling the same emotion as Ataryo.

"Our lives exist only to serve you and the Dragon god. So long as we, your sword and shield, have not failed you, then we shall grind ourselves to accommodate for any of your shortcomings. An apology shall not be necessary."

"...I shall take that as an acceptance of my apology."

King Manye gestured his hand towards Kotaro.

"This elf is neither of Nutanae nor Ambaron. He is our trump card against the Death Lich. I... I must say, I doubted his actual ability in combat, for it is one thing to say one's achievements, and it is another to actually witness it firsthand."

King Manye shook his head.

"Even I couldn't follow that battle, since everything was so blurry. Still, it's time for the final test, Kotaro. Allow me to inspect your armor."

Kotaro extended his hands out and slowly turned around for the king. Queen Macil was also closely looking for any marks. Rinciquilde simply prayed to the Dragon god that Kotaro would pass. While he was very confident in Kotaro's abilities, the battle he had just seen was unlike anything he's ever laid his eyes upon before. Even Yanna couldn't move like that. Like King Manye had said, everyone had moved too quickly for him to see, so all he could catch was the occasional clang where two weapons were forced to stop mid-parry, or the occasional arrow that magically appeared out of nowhere. For anyone to survive an onslaught like that and escape, let alone emerge completely unscathed, was a miracle in and of itself.

King Manye nodded, deeply impressed, and turned to Queen Macil.

"I don't see any marks. How about you?"

Rinciquilde slightly frowned, while the Yára Ohtatyaro stood silent and stoic. The way King Manye addressed Queen Macil was as if they were way too familiar with each other, even for a King famous for abhorring formalities. Perhaps it's a strategy by the king to reduce whatever favor he owed to the Ambaron Queen?

"I do not see any either... Come to think of it, this armor looks like something of incredible quality. Where did you have this forged, Kotaro?"

Kotaro looked at the sky, before answering.

"Mmm... Even if I told you, it probably doesn't exist anymore. So I think I'll keep it a secret for myself, if you don't mind."

Queen Macil shrugged. It only made sense for Kotaro to keep a secret about where and how he obtained his weapons and armor. They exceeded the quality of even the Aurumil equipment the elves owned, and they were not surprised that Kotaro was willing to take his secret to the grave. The fact that he mentioned that the place where he obtained his gear from might not exist could simply be a lie to protect himself. This was no loss for the elves.

"You have proven yourself to us of your ability in combat, so I believe it is best to seek your aid in battle. Therefore... I agree with the transaction, and your involvement in the battlefield. Still, I shudder to think how powerful that Death Lich is if even you doubt your own ability to strike it down."

Kotaro laughed.

"Killing it would be troublesome, but I doubt it would be unkillable. It's just that the ones I'm used to are very predictable... And I had access to vital intelligence on them beforehand back in my day. This time, I'm running in blind. As military leaders, I'm sure you understand how dangerous that is."

Both King Manye and Queen Macil nodded.

"If we have the Queen's approval of my involvement with the assassination of your Death Lich, the only prerequisite left to fulfill before this contract can begin is Rinci's consent."

No one noticed, but for a split second, it appeared that Queen Macil's lips quivered for a moment. Still, the moment passed by quickly, and her face was emotionless, so even if someone did notice it, they would not think much of it. Rinciquilde himself pondered for a moment.

"I... I want to go. I really want to. But there is still one thing I want to know before I leave."

Kotaro tilted his head.

"Oh? Hm. I think I have an idea of what that may be, but since I may be misremembering... Please elaborate. I assume it has something to do with your parents?"

Rinciquilde nodded, and smiled.

"I didn't expect you to remember that, Kotaro. But yes... I wish to know who my real parents were, and if they're dead... I wish to pay my respects to them."

"Ah..."

King Manye faked a cough to clear his throat.

"Well, didn't I tell you? We have no records of who your parents were. It really was a mystery on how you appeared at the gates of Amil."

King Manye chuckled.

"Perhaps you're actually Ambaron-born, and your parents came to my lands to have a better future for you?"

He gave a sly grin to Queen Macil, who returned his taunt with her usual icy glare before rolling her eyes.

"My countrymen would never do that. Obviously he is the son of a pair of bandits that your lands seem to always be infested with."

That jabbing statement wiped the smirk from King Manye's face, who instantly turned red. Queen Macil then grimaced, as if she said something she knew she was going to regret. Rinciquilde's eyes widened.

"I... I never considered that. But it makes sense... I've tainted blood..."

Tears formed on his eyes. It would only make sense. Bandits were criminals, and worse, traitors to the Nutanae army. They were the lowest of the lowborns, and existed only to die one way or another: whether it be by the hands of a rival bandit group, by traveling adventurers seeking quick riches, or by the hands of Nutanae soldiers themselves. If no one claimed him as their son, it would only make sense that his parents were bandits, as they would not care enough to claim him. His parents may as well not exist. But to be the child of traitors... how tainted would his own blood be? Would Yanna look at him the same way if she knew who he really was?

King Manye glared at Queen Macil.

"Ty- Princess, that's too far, even for-"

Queen Macil interrupted, with a cold smirk on her face.

"If that is what must be done, then so be it."

King Manye grumbled.

"Unbelievable."

Kotaro gently placed a hand on Rinciquilde's shoulders.

"Don't be sad about who your parents are, Rinci. It's who you grew up with that makes you who you are today. Who your parents were, from my experience, merely determines how well your upbringing was. In this case, it didn't even matter, since, as you say, every elf starts in Amil."

"But... Kotaro... I..."

"Don't fret on it. Listen. My own little brother was an idiot, you know. Compared to me and my older brother, that is. He always thought he was born from a different father or something. Did you know what I always tell him?"

Rinciquilde sniffled, and shook his head.

"I always told him that he's still my brother, no matter if he's an adopted orphan from outside the Arcology or if he's a bastard child from an affair. I'll always love him, and protect him, and be there for him no matter what. Where he came from never mattered, so long as he stays true to who he is... was."

Kotaro's voice wavered as he spoke about his little brother.

"So it doesn't matter if your parents were Elven lords, or regular soldiers, or as a result of a brief fling by your Yára Ohtatyaro."

He stuck his thumb at the hitherto silent Yára Ohtatyaro standing besides King Manye. Kotaro thought he saw one of them - the one with the spear - flash a glare at him. Rinciquilde bashfully smiled.

"You grew up in Amil. You were raised by Mothers, not your parents. You made close connections there. You still have a friend who you care about, and who also cares deeply about you. Never let them go. Never forget how they shaped you. And never let your blood determine what kind of person you are."

Rinciquilde smiled, and nodded. He felt a little bit better after hearing what Kotaro had to say. After all, he was no different than who he was if he had never known that his parents were bandits.

"I... I have a question."

"Hm?"

"Was your brother really adopted? Or... you know..."

"...No. He is... was my real brother, through and through. Like I said, he was an idiot. An idiot."

Kotaro sounded very far away when he repeated himself. He kept muttering the word "idiot" underneath his breath over and over, before he snapped back to reality.

"Do you still wish to find out who your parents are?"

Rinciquilde shook his head.

"They're lowborn scum. I'll never recognize who they are. I'll come with you, if that's the price for you to aid our nation."

King Manye visibly winced when Rinciquilde said the word scum, but he shook it off, and replaced his expression with a smile, though it looked incredibly artificial.

"Well, it seems like that settles everything. You have the boy's consent, and you have my approval to release that boy's bonds to our nation's military service as the price of your service. You have the Princess's approval of your involvement in the war. The only thing left is to bring the fight to that Death Lich."

Kotaro nodded.

"Consider the contract signed by all parties. I shall render my services with all due haste."

King Manye nodded, and turned to Rinciquilde, giving him a reassuring smile.

"My boy... I'll be the first to let you know this: you are no son of bandits."

Rinciquilde bowed.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but how could you know?"

"You're... You're too noble-born. I can smell it."

His eyes turned distant, and his smile shifted into one that bore some pain.

"Pine and mint, my boy. Pine and mint."

Rinciquilde's eyebrows scrunched together, confused. Pine trees were a part of Nutanae lands, specifically the trees near Numina, but they hold no significance in terms of nobility. Mint plants, as far as he knew, either came from foreign lands or smuggled in from the rare Ambaron trader brave enough to cross the Bloodied Zone. Perhaps due to its price, one can say that it is a status of wealth in Nutanae lands to smell of mint. However, it held the negative connotation of dealing with the Ambaron, so it was definitely not a sign of nobility. There was also nothing significant in his religious studies that signified the importance of pine and mint according to the teachings of the Dragon god. That was why Rinciquilde was confused. King Manye laughed it off.

"Forget it. It means nothing. Just know that you're no son of bandits."

King Manye turned towards Kotaro.

"I'm no longer an active part of the current ongoing military operations, so you should speak to Lord Ciris, who is my Supreme Commander. If you know anything about the Death Lich, please let him know as well. I'll let him know who you are, but you should be the one to fill him in on the details."

Kotaro tilted his head.

"What of the Ambaron?"

Queen Macil spoke up.

"I shall be directing my own commanders about your involvement. Unlike King Manye, I am the sole overseer of all military operations in our land. We shall be coordinating more closely with the Nutanae from this point forward. Please speak to me when we arrive at my Place of Respite."

She let out a deep breath, and the air momentarily smelled of mint. It slightly tickled Rinciquilde's nose. For the first time, Queen Macil cracked a warm smile, as if her icy personality was merely a mask to hide her real self. Her sharp blue eyes no longer seemed cold, rather, they seem much friendlier and more genuine.

"I think we have hope now. Hope that the Death Lich will be gone, the Death Lord destroyed, and things can return to normal."

King Manye nodded.

"And... perhaps... even achieve peace between our people."

Rinciquilde and even King Manye's own Yára Ohtatyaro stared at him in shock. Why was he proposing peace, when the Ambaron continue to resist the Dragon god's resurrection? They have spilt centuries of Elven blood, sacrificed countless heroes, and the Bloodied Zone only became the land of the dead because of how much death was concentrated in this region over the last four centuries of war, so that they could invade Ambaron lands and extinguish all resistance to the return of the Dragon god's avatar. Only Kotaro seemed unsurprised, but that might be due to his status as an outsider, who would not know the pain this war had on both sides. Queen Macil gave a sad smile.

"Yes... We can hope for that too."

"Eh?! What's going on?"

Baffled, Rinciquilde couldn't help but blurt out what he was thinking. These were the rulers of two nations at war, with ideologies at odds with one another. They should harbor deep hatred towards one another, but they don't. Both monarchs laughed together, with King Manye's deep voice accented with Queen Macil's high tones. Together, they sounded like siblings, or perhaps an old couple, as if they were never raised from two different countries at war with each other.

"Pay us no heed, boy. It's merely the stress from worrying about the undead. The enemy of my enemy is still my enemy, aye, Princess?"

King Manye's smile turned razor sharp, as if he wasn't smiling anymore, but rather, he was baring his teeth like a hungry predator. With his great mane of golden hair shining in the sun, Rinciquilde couldn't help but compare King Manye to a proud lion, or perhaps even a sleek, gold-scaled dragon.

"Indeed. I trust we shall be meeting in the battlefield soon, darling?"

Queen Macil returned King Manye's smile with a seductive smile of her own, with her eyes returning back to its usual frost. Her amused expression stared down at King Manye, despite clearly being shorter than him by an entire head. She held the demeanor of a hunter eyeing her next trophy. Her words didn't imply the joint effort against the undead, but rather, the next clashing of their armies in the future. Rinciquilde couldn't help but shiver, and the Yára Ohtatyaro behind King Manye, despite being exhausted from their battle with Kotaro, tightened their grip on their weapons. They were ready to defend King Manye if anything happened. The jubilation from before quickly evaporated, and what replaced the two monarchs were monsters in Elven skin staring down at each other. Rinciquilde now understood that they were merely toying with each other from the start, like great leviathans dancing with each other before one devours the other. He was finally seeing who the true monarchs were for the first time, and he couldn't help but edge his way behind Kotaro in case Queen Macil turns her attention to him again. Kotaro, noticing this, decided to break the tension.

"I do not wish to travel back and forth between both the Ambaron and Nutanae main headquarters. I also don't know where the Ambaron HQ is either. Has a joint base been established yet?"

This snapped the tension in the air between the two monarchs, and the Yára Ohtatyaro eased their grips on their weapons. Queen Macil placed a finger on her chin, before speaking up.

"My generals have already started speaking with the Nutanae envoy. I believe they should come to an agreement by today, since I've already approved of one of the planned Places of Respite for the Coalition to use."

She looked around at her surroundings. As a ranger of the highest caliber, even the Bloodied Zone should not feel too foreign to her. She should know how to return to her home base even if she does not know where her current location is.

"I think it is best if you follow me back to our base, so that you can be the second foreigner to know where we plan to establish our new Place of Respite."

She gave Kotaro a flirtatious wink.

"I trust you won't tell the Savage King about where our main base of operation is."

Kotaro nodded.

"Of course. Where I come from, discretion for our clients is of utmost importance."

"Eh? Kotaro, you just came back today..."

"Ah, don't worry, Rinci. I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise."

Kotaro gave Rinciquilde a pat on the head, before stalking off with the Ambaron Queen.

—

The new Coalition Place of Respite was selected out of a variety of strategic strongholds in the northern tip of the Bloodied Zone. The northern part of the Bloodied Zone was selected because of its proximity to the forgotten City of the Dead to the far north of Nutanae territory, and it would be the best gathering place for both armies to place their troops in before launching an invasion into that city. The general plan was to have the main army from both the Nutanae and the Ambaron locate and kill the Death Lord and its undead minions, while Kotaro would simultaneously deal with the Death Lich. While Kotaro could attempt his assassination at any point, if the Lich turned out more powerful than he had anticipated, it would be even more difficult to attempt another assassination again. This was assuming Kotaro could even find the Death Lich within the city of the dead. Kotaro refused the request to assassinate both the Death Lord and the Death Lich, citing that he would require an additional form of compensation that neither nations could ever afford. It was up to the elves to fight the Death Lord by themselves. Therefore, the Coalition felt it was most beneficial for them to launch a simultaneous attack in conjunction with Kotaro's assassination, so that they could swiftly end both threats as soon as possible.

According to the Nutanae archives, the name of the City of the Dead, as the humans and demihumans that lived there had called it, was Perforo, and was mainly dependent on its mining economy. Perforo was situated right next to a mountain with a gaping maw that was a couple of hundred meters tall and wide. It was as if a massive dragon was opening its mouth to swallow the earth whole, and it was where all of Perforo's mining activities took place. It was an independent, humanoid-majority city-state that operated under the control of several senators that represented their race when considering laws. Demihumans of various races mined for ores and precious gems, and humans and dwarves smelted and smithed the metal into weapons and gems into jewelry. However, all remnants of Perforo were inexplicably lost when an unknown event caused them to cut communications with Nutanae elves around two centuries ago. It is now theorized that the Death Lich had settled into the city at around that time, and instantly converted the residents of that city into undead, though the magical means by which the Death Lich used to convert every citizen of Perforo into its minion remained a mystery even to King Manye.

In order to ascertain the presence of the Death Lord, Rinciquilde was selected to lead a group of Nutanae rangers to the camp, with a group of Ambaron rangers following their trail from the rear. The reasoning behind this was that the Ambaron generals did not want a young, inexperienced Nutanae elf to lead their veteran Ambaron soldiers, and the Nutanae generals did not want to have a Nutanae squad leader commandeering Ambaron soldiers for fear of sabotage. Thus, they decided to have a team of Ambaron rangers trailing Rinciquilde's own team, in order to verify whatever claims his squad made on Perforo. Rinciquilde was selected by Lord Ciris due to his outstanding work in scouting during the ceasefire period and tracking down the movements of the Death Knight. The Ambaron had no viable candidate to propose, so Rinciquilde became the de-facto choice to lead this mission.

There was a stretch of scorched earth and desert patches in between the Bloodied Zone and Perforo, which indicated an ancient and violent battlefield had erupted in this part. As an example of how destructive the battlefield was, there were remnants of what appeared to be high canyon walls, now gouged out and reduced to flat lands. The Elven historical texts that Rinciquilde had access to in Amil mentioned nothing about the outside world, which meant that he had no clue what event had transpired here that led to such a vast stretch of land being reduced to rubble. It appeared that over the course of several centuries, some small wild and plant life had made their home in this area, and already had attempted to reclaim this lost land back to nature. Rinciquilde felt confident that it was the love of the Dragon god that caused the rebound of life despite everything that had happened to this land.

Rinciquilde was leading his own squad, on top of ten other veteran Nutanae rangers with over a century of combat experience each. They were each strong in their own right, although none were as skilled as Rinciquilde's squad in the art of stealth. In this manner, they merely served as a bulwark in case the Ambaron rangers trailing them decided to violate the ceasefire agreement, and ambush them. Thus far, according to the ancient maps in the Nutanae archives, they were halfway to Perforo, and no event of interest had transpired. Rinciquilde's squad had been traveling quickly for over a week in a stretch of land that was completely foreign to them. The sky was clear and open above them, with no shade of trees to shield them from its heat during the day. During the night, the elves would depend on Rinciquilde's divine magic to produce flames for heat, as it was inexplicably freezing cold at night. There were only boulders, sand, and the occasional shrubbery. No birds were in sight, and they've only seen insects of various sizes skittering across the plains. There were no magic beasts that prowled the land, or if there were any, they were adept at hiding their presence during the day. Occasionally, they could see the great bones of some giant ancient creature that perished in this land long ago protruding from the ground, though age has made it very difficult to tell what sort of creature it was in the past.

Rinciquilde felt it was a shame that Kotaro did not wish to accompany him for this journey. Kotaro had to conduct his own scouting missions to figure out where the Death Lich roamed, and he had a vast amount of land to cover. On top of his personal scouting, he requested additional help from the Nutanae and Ambaron historical archives to figure out any references to powerful undead in the past. Rinciquilde also knew that Kotaro's presence in this scouting mission would render everything completely trivial, and Rinciquilde would not have much of a learning experience on the outside world, so it was both a good and a bad thing that Kotaro wasn't here. Before embarking on this journey, Kotaro told Rinciquilde that the undead in Perforo were not very concentrated, and were randomly distributed across the city, which indicated a lack of an undead master. However, he also noted that his information might be outdated, so extra precaution is required. He had no advice to give for the journey to Perforo, as he felt his narrative would be wholly unreliable given his relative strength to this world.

It took another ten days and nights to finally reach the outskirts of Perforo due to some obstacles not noted in the ancient Nutanae maps. It was turning into nighttime when they saw the great walls of Perforo standing tall, defying the test of time, and Rinciquilde's team could hear a hubbub of activity within the city. They could see moving shapes all around the top of the walls, as if sentries were posted there to keep watch over the city. Fearing the undead's darkvision spotting them, and cursing at the lack of cover surrounding Perforo, Rinciquilde directed his squad to East side of the city. According to his maps, and the intelligence he managed to pry from Kotaro, there should be a massive hole in the side of the mountain, which was where the ancient citizens of Perforo had performed their mining operations. There, they saw additional undead activity, with hundreds of undead teeming in and out of the mines. Matso crouched next to Rinciquilde, breathing heavily from all the running they did.

"This does not look good, leader. I have never seen undead do any mining before."

Rinciquilde whispered back.

"This confirms the presence of a powerful undead that can control massive amounts of other undead... Which means the Death Lord is here."

He turned to Matso.

"What do you think? Is this enough evidence to verify the presence of the Death Lord?"

Matso nodded.

"That means we can simply wait for the Ambaronians following us to verify, and we can return home."

"Hmm..."

Matso gave Rinciquilde a worried look.

"What is it, leader?"

"I know this is a mining city-state, but... Why are they mining? What are they doing with the ores? What are they trying to accomplish?"

"That's dangerous thinking, leader. Let's leave that to the Red-Faced Elf."

The Red-Faced Elf was the nickname given to Kotaro, in reference to the ugly red demon mask Kotaro never took off. Whispers of his existence in the fight against the Death Lich spread throughout both the Nutanae and Ambaron camps, although no general nor captain would confirm nor deny his existence. King Manye expressed pure ignorance to the Red-Faced Elf's existence, and Queen Macil is out of reach for most Ambaron elves. Elves occasionally claim to see a shadow with the face of an ugly red demon gliding in and out of the Coalition's Place of Respite. Many soldiers speculate that the Red-Faced Elf was, in fact, a member of the ancient Yára Ohtatyaro from the Age of Dragons, who had returned to their forests to aid them in their time of need, though no one knew who first started this rumor. Kotaro himself requested his status to stay as a mere legend, though the reason behind his request to remain anonymous was shrouded in mystery, and asked all those who know of his existence swear to secrecy.

"We can't depend on a legend to solve this war for us. We would not be worthy of Malsesilonhofkiin if we don't do our duty."

He turned to Matso.

"Can you face the Dragon god and smile, knowing that you ran away from the undead like a coward?"

At this point, Falas slowly shuffled her way up to the two elves.

"The others are getting restless being this close to the undead, and sent me to check on both of you. What is the problem?"

Matso turned to Falas, and clasped his hands together.

"Falas, tell leader that it is an unwise move to try and seek out information on what those undead are up to!"

Rinciquilde shook his head, refusing to back down.

"Undead should not be able to process ores. They're not intelligent enough to do so. So what are they doing with all those resources? We have to find out."

Falas sighed.

"We are not equipped to infiltrate Perforo. Look."

She pointed at the walls of the city.

"Undead sentries. We cannot climb the walls to get inside. Even if there were no sentries, do you really think we can climb walls that high? They are not trees with branches for us to ascend with. Even if we do make it to the top, how will we make it down?"

She pointed at the cave, where, from this distance, the toiling undead looked like mere ants.

"The rear gate entrance is filled with undead. We cannot sneak in from there."

Falas then jerked a thumb to where the front gates of the city should be.

"And, assuming the Death Lord is commanding this city, he would not be stupid enough to leave the front gates open. If they are, it would be a trap."

Finally, she nodded towards the rest of Rinciquilde's squad.

"And would you trust them to successfully sneak through a city full of undead even if we make it in? Remember when we rescued your old squadmate, Yanna? We barely made it out of that place alive, and we are certainly more adept at stealth than the rest of our comrades."

She shook her head.

"We shall have to relay what we have to Lord Ciris, but there is nothing more we can do. We can only pray that the Red-Faced Elf can do this... And I'm confident he's actually real."

Falas smiled, and Rinciquilde thought he saw her blush.

"I saw him in the Coalition's camp, gliding like a graceful shadow."

Rinciquilde frowned, but he knew that trying to enter Perforo was essentially ordering his comrades to their deaths.

"Still... There's a lot of ores being mined from the mountain. If the undead cannot process the ores themselves, then they must have someone doing that for them. Would it be a stretch to assume that the Death Lord is shipping out the ores to other cities to have them processed?"

He looked at the others, who shrugged.

"This is the year of many firsts, leader. Perhaps the undead really can smelt ores and forge armors and weapons, in blatant defiance to conventional wisdom. How else could that Death Lord have such powerful weapons and armor?"

"Well, we'll need to wait for the Ambaron squad to arrive first. We'll observe the city from here until then."

It took about half a day for the Ambaron rangers to catch up to Rinciquilde's squad. They had managed to follow his squad's trail to a nearby hill some distance away from Perforo. The Ambaron's squad leader was a young female elf named Sehaila, who was almost as young as Rinciquilde, and was quite powerful in her own right, though one would not be able to tell that from her appearance. She had the standard look of an elf: tanned, golden skin, slim build, and soft, blue eyes. In fact, she sort of reminded Rinciquilde of Yanna. While Rinciquilde thought it was perfectly normal for someone of Sehaila's age to be a soldier in the Bloodied Zone, apparently to the Ambaron, she was something of a prodigy, and thus was one of the youngest soldiers ever to be sent to the frontlines.

The two squads maintained separate camps while Rinciquilde and Sehaila conversed on what steps to take next.

"...Yes, we saw the organized undead activity. Based on what we have seen thus far in the Bloodied Zone, that is definitely the Death Lord's doing."

"So all that's left is to figure out what the Death Lord is doing."

"I agree, though I assume you have already seen the futility in trying to infiltrate into that city of the dead?"

"Yes, so we've already scouted the outskirts of Perforo. Nothing but rock, sand, or patches of grassland surrounding the city, so the sentries will spot us quite easily before we can even get close to the city."

"What have you observed while waiting for us?"

"Curiously enough, we've spotted movement to the northwestern end of the city that's headed westwards... Though since it's nothing but flatlands there, we didn't want to risk being spotted trying to figure out what the undead were doing there."

Sehaila fell silent.

"...Do you think they are sending out undead towards the other territories surrounding us?"

Rinciquilde consulted what he could remember from the Nutanae maps in the archives.

"Hmm... Based on our maps, there is nothing but high, sheer mountains blocking the southern borders of the Six Great Demihuman Nations. If anything, perhaps there was a way through the mountain barriers from within Perforo's cave systems. I was told that occasionally, demihuman merchants visiting our Capital would tell stories of the underground shortcuts between their nations and ours."

Sehaila pursed her lips.

"According to our history books, we used those same shortcuts to escape from the falling Faraananhiim when Aur died, and the remainder of Aur's Yára Ohtatyaro died protecting our ancestors from the dangers within those caves."

Rinciquilde raised an eyebrow. The history lessons in Amil never delved deeply into how their ancestors escaped when the Betrayal of Aur happened, where the many disloyal gods of Aur sacked Malsesilonhofkiin, Aur's personal home and where the Nutanae and Ambaron elves came from, and destroyed Faraananhiim, the fabled floating City of Gold that Aur created with his own mighty power. Aur, his mate, Yuvon, and his child, the shining future of dragon and elven kind, Tsaindorcus, were believed to have perished by the traitorous breaths of the Divine Betrayers.

"...Interesting, I've never heard of that story. But we're getting sidetracked. The point is, there is no reason for the undead to be going overland to reach the demihuman nations."

Sehaila shrugged.

"If you have fought in the Bloodied Zone for a few years, then you should have seen how the undead can function perfectly normal even in extremely cold weather. Mountains should not be a problem."

"Yes, but it's just not practical. The mountains stretch for a very far distance... The most reasonable assumption is that the undead are sending convoys to other territories to our west, where there are said to be human or demihuman tribes in the desertlands."

"Eh? How do you know so much about the outside world? Do the Nutanae maps really map out the whole world?"

"No, they don't... Do the Ambaron not have traders coming into your nation from the east?"

Sehaila spat on the ground, and scowled.

"We have nothing but troublesome neighbors to our east... Let us leave it at that."

She turned her attention to the direction of Perforo.

"Do you think we can catch up to the undead that left from the northwestern gates?"

Rinciquilde shrugged.

"Perhaps if we had swift horses... I think we should just keep an eye on those gates for a while before returning to the Bloodied Zone. There's nothing more to gleam from the city, so what do you think about setting up camp in a suitable spot some distance away from the gates?"

Sehaila thought for a moment, before nodding. She also smiled at Rinciquilde, before cautiously extending her hand.

"You know, you Nutanae elves are not so bad. I had the impression that all of you were just mindless savages, driven by pure instinct."

Rinciquilde clasped her hand, and they shook.

"If the Ambaron weren't so sacrilegious, perhaps we could have been one united nation."

Sehaila let out a laugh.

"I was told you Nutanae would say that. It's a shame that you do not believe in truth, that Aur released his bonds on us with his last dying breath."

Rinciquilde sighed. His grip on her hand tightened.

"And that's why we must remain enemies."

Sehaila's smile froze, and she squeezed Rinciquilde's hand even harder.

"Indeed."