She huddled up in the attic. Her hands and legs shook violently as she forced her palm over mouth in an attempt to stay quiet.
The Theocracy had somehow managed to make it to their village. They were very deep behind the front lines so everybody had thought they would at least have another year before they would need to evacuate.
They had come without warning, emerging from the darkness of the forest and had begun to slaughter everyone. Adults, elderly, children… everyone. Even the newborns were targeted.
She had heard talk of this kind of behavior before when she overheard some of the older men talking about it. This was the merciless modus operandi of a group known as the Holocaust Scripture. They targeted a village and killed without relent until they met a quota of remaining elves.
And that was because they only brought with them a set amount of fetters.
She had been orphaned right before her eyes as her father had shielded her from the spells with his body.
With the last of his breath, underneath the chaos of spell fire, he had told her to run back to their tree and hide. He had said that that way she could wait out the initial killing and, that way when they eventually found her, she could live on as a slave and her life would be spared.
And so, she had run for the attic as her world collapsed around her.
Her body quivered in fear as she spied the two scripture members below her through the cracks in the living-wood paneling.
It had sounded earlier like there had been a force fighting the theocracy. She hoped that it was the elven military, hot on the heels of the scripture to come and save their village.
But the sounds of that fighting had grown dark and now, two humans had just barged into her home. She feared the worst.
"Gods damn him! What the hell was that!?" One of the scripture members said.
She could only make out glimpses of the man's form through the cracks in the attic floor as he moved about the area that had once been her family's living quarters. He seemed to be wearing metal armor, covered in camouflage. She noticed a small flame sigil on his helmet; the mark of the Slane Theocracy's great god of fire. The only weapon he visibly carried was a shortbow, so he was likely a magic caster.
"How the fuck…*cough* should I know?"
The one that replied to him was huddled over on the ground. His breathing was labored and he coughed profusely. He too wore a similar set of armor adorned in camouflage, and held under his arm a large war scythe.
She forced her body to stay still. Any mild jitter could lead to a creak in the wood and might give away her position. She listened in on the scripture members' conversation.
"I thought the plan was to scout Rhamnusia! Not to attack him!"
"The red beast was seen flying nearby so we could only assume he was hiding somewhere in this village… *cough*. He's been running around this forest harassing us for five days now. We needed more information on his abilities and the only way were going to get that was to flush him out."
"And guess what! He wasn't in the village. We get halfway through exterminating these elves and then he comes waltzing out of the forest with all of our positions exposed to him! We're supposed to be a guerrilla group and we let him drag us out in the open! We never should've attacked the village like this, it was an obvious trap! He was using this village as bait! We should've had half the squad go in whilst the rest of us hid in the forest and waited for him."
"It wasn't our decision to make. It was… *cough* it was leader's."
"And now he's bleeding out because of it. Taken out the moment he tried to get behind him."
"How were we supposed to know he had ranged support?"
"We were supposed to know because our gods damned job was to scout him! The moment Rhamnusia showed up, we should've just retreated."
The scythe wielder wretched on the floor. "Yes, okay. I… *cough* I agree with you. You were right, okay? But now there is nothing more we can do about it. He's probably already finished off Julius and Klein by now. We're all that's left…*cough*."
He kneeled over and retched. He continued. "...correction, you're all that's left. I did the best I could to hold my breath, but some of the poison still got to me. I'm done for."
"I… I'm sorry. I should've covered you better."
"It's okay… *cough* It couldn't have been helped that he was immune to lightning spells. Look… it's only a matter of time until he finds us. You need to slip back into the forest as soon as you're able, lest we all end up paralyzed."
"...I was planning on it."
"...hehe… and add to your report that Rhamnusia is susceptible to crotch shots… *cough* I managed to get one in and it looked like he felt it, got him to release my scythe."
The otherwise frustrated and desperate scripture member allowed himself a small laugh. "...okay. I'll remember that."
"Then go and see if you can go up into the attic and get higher into the canopy. If they're watching this tree… *cough* then they're probably only watching the two entrances. They might miss you if you do something unexpected like drop from the other side."
The cowering girl withdrew from her peephole. Terror flashed through her body. It sounded as though one of the men was planning on coming up into the attic. What would he do when he found her?
She looked around in a frenzy. There was nowhere to hide. She could potentially move the heavy boxes and attempt to make a place for herself, but that would make too much noise and she was sure to be found out.
She was trapped.
"*cough* I'll stay behind and try to distract him. And don't worry about me, or any of us, really. Out of the whole scripture he's only killed two of us. Chances are I'll be seeing you soon. Albeit, maybe missing a limb or two. "
"...That cocky bastard is just toying with us. Thinks he can get away with it if he minimizes deaths."
"Just go alread—"
His voice was cut short as the room suddenly exploded into a tremendous flood of white light and sound. Streamers of light pierced through the wood panels and into the attic.
A rapid series of smaller explosions followed it and dozens of small holes perforated the walls. She heard the scripture member who had planned on coming to the attic cry in pain.
She hurriedly put her eye back to the peephole.
The scythe wielder screamed. "Run! Just run for the back entrance! He's already found us!"
The other stumbled to his feet. Blood dripped from underneath his armor. He pushed his way out the backdoor and fled.
The scythe wielder slumped back down against the wall. "...*cough* Good luck…"
A few moments later, a dark form strolled in through the hole riddled front door. His figure was tall and bulky, stygian and metallic. Two long, armored limbs distended from his back.
He walked past the scythe wielder without so much as a glance and assessed the room.
He looked toward the trail of blood on the floor. After which, he spoke into a strange box that the girl did not recognize. "The armored one was hit, but it looks like he escaped. Over."
A fuzzy reply came moments later from a voice within the box "...roger. I have a bead on him, he won't get far. Over."
"Remember, capture him as healthy as possible, we need more data on the specialized magic casters. I have to tend to the guy with the oversized farming equipment. Over."
"...copy that."
The box went silent.
The girl went to her peephole and watched on the edge of her breath.
The scythe wielder slowly rose to his feet. "...*cough* haha...Oversized farming equipment? That's just insulting, Rhamnusia. It's a war scythe."
Rhamnusia turned to face him. "Spare me, a scythe doesn't turn into an effective weapon just because you put the word 'war' in front of it. It has style points, I admit, but style points only get you so far."
"...*cough* I beg to differ."
"I mean, how is one even supposed to use the cutting edge effectively when it's located on the inside of the weapon?" Rhamnusia said. "At least turn the blade 90 degrees if you're dead set on using it. And besides, the blade is too wide, the only way to get through even a modicum of armor would be to swing the point around, and if you're going to do that, you might as well just use a warpick or battle-ax. You're fighting humanoids, not grass for gods sake."
"...haha...what will it take to convince you that a scythe is an effective weapon?" The scripture member coughed.
"Well for starters," Rhamnusia replied, "how about not making your kicks so much more potent in comparison."
The scripture member laughed weakly. "Oh so you did feel that crotch shot?"
"I'll definitely make sure to armor up a little more thoroughly next time."
Rhamnusia withdrew a small metal canister. "You've inhaled a fair amount of sulfur mustard and chlorine, and enough of the blood agent has likely already been absorbed into your body. As is, you probably only have about twenty minutes to live. The last ten of which will be unimaginably painful as your blood begins to turn acidic from CO2 build up and you start convulsing uncontrollably."
He presented the object to the scripture member. "Your muscles are weakened and you can barely breathe as is, you can no longer fight me. I have no interest in killing you. This is an antidote for the poisons inside you right now. If you allow me to treat you, I can neutralize the poison in your body and keep your vital organs functioning. You'll hurt like hell and be in and out of consciousness for a week or so, but you should survive."
"...how come *cough* you don't kill anyone?"
"I believe I told the last group already. Do you guys not share information?" Rhamnusia replied.
He brought his hand to his face and, with a pair of clicks and an arduous sound of shifting leather straps, removed his mask. "~Ahh… it gets stuffy in there after a while." He took a deep breath.
Both the girl in the attic and the scripture member's eyes grew wide. "So you really are human?"
Perhaps that should've been obvious in hindsight, but his visage was so alien that it certainly took actually seeing the man without his mask to be sure of it.
"Tragically." Rhamnusia replied, "But my reputation makes it hard for people to believe me when I say as much. All I'm trying to do is send a message to your higher ups. I'm on humanity's side here. It would be a tremendous loss to kill people who are to be my allies in the future."
Rhamnusia gestured back to the canister in his hand. "Feel like taking the antidote now?"
There was a pause.
"...*cough* not a chance…I'm at least going to take one last swing at you!"
The scripture member swung his scythe at Rhamnusia.
The blade of the scythe slowed and fumbled as Rhamnuisa's raised arm collided with the shaft.
The blade did not have enough energy to penetrate and skidded off Rhamnuisa's side. He quickly grasped the blade as it fell away from him.
A blue flame sparked to life in his hand and tore into the blade.
"I see you were wary of the electromagnet this time and swung wide to avoid it. Nicely done. Now, if you had been wielding an ax or hammer instead of a piece of farming equipment, then you might have had enough pressure to actually do something."
Rhamnusia bent the heated blade with his hand.
"...At least I tried." The scripture member said.
"Indeed. Sehr gut."
A thin blue jet of flame screeched out of Rhamnusia's right wrist. Carried by the trust of the jet, Rhamnusia's hand slammed into the side of the scythe weilder's head.
The scripture member crumpled to the ground, his body finally giving way to his injuries.
"There we go…" Rhamnusia muttered.
He knelt down and brought the object he had been holding earlier to the scripture member's neck. The object looked to be some sort of metal canister with a pair of needles extending from one side.
Rhamnusia stuck it into the scripture members neck and pressed down on the canister.
The girl in the attic watched in silence, not daring to make any noise.
Although it was true that this 'Rhamnusia' had come in and defeated the two holocaust scripture members, he still looked far too scary to approach. And she wasn't even sure if he was an ally to the elves to begin with, as far as she knew, he could've simply been a third party simply out to cause chaos.
As long as she stayed quiet, he would likely just leave on his own.
That being said, she couldn't help but be curious as to what he was doing.
She leaned in closer to get a better look at his face.
The floorboards creaked.
Rhamnsuia's head flicked upwards at sound.
"...That sounded like a very fat rat."
The girl recoiled and put her hand to her mouth.
Several seconds of stifled silence passed.
"...Here's what I'm going to do." Rhamnusia said. "On the count of three, I'm going to fill the attic with metal. If you just so happen to be a really fat rat, then you of course can't understand me and will probably die as a result. But if by chance, you're actually a theocrat lying in ambush, I suggest surrendering right now so I don't have to waste my ammo."
She quaked in fear.
What if he was just bluffing and planned on killing a potential ambusher anyways? Calling out to him would only prompt him to attack in that case. Maybe it was better to just hide in silence and pray.
"...one."
That was stupid, she ultimately decided.
"...tw—"
"W-Wait!" She cried.
"I-I'm here! Don't attack! P-Please! I'm not one of them!"
She heard what sounded to be Rhamnusia chuckling. "Christ, if you were a little girl you should've just said so earlier. Your voice is lovely, come down from there mäuschen, I'm not going to hurt you."
"Y-Yes sir!"
She nervously moved the heavy crate blocking the entrance to the attic and descended into the room.
She drew in a sharp breath when she finally got a clear look at him.
Rhamnusia's entire form screamed the phrase "armed to the teeth." Everything from his toes to his back to his fingertips seemed to be in full bloom with unknown black metal armaments. The mask that hung from his neck was especially disturbing.
His voice was heavy, but it was undoubtedly that of a human and not of a demon. "Ahhh, hiding in the attic were you? How's the holocaust treating you, miss Frank?"
The girl stuttered. "...F-Frank? But my name is—"
"—Not important, Anne. How old are you?"
"O-Old? I-I'm 13."
"Of course you are. God forbid I thought you were 5. Elves and their longevity. Anyways mäuschen, I have a very important question for you."
"I-Important—?"
Rhamnusia raised an armored black finger and pointed at her head. She flinched.
"Is that your natural hair color?"
"...w-what?" Her hand instinctively went to her short pink hair.
"You heard me. Were you born like that? With pink hair?"
The question was almost absurd to her. She had never once heard of anyone ever questioning another person's hair color. She answered honestly.
"Y-Yes…"
"Good, good. I thought so, it matches your pink eyes. Very aesthetic."
Rhamnusia stuck a hand into his coat and dug around.
The girl panicked, she thought that perhaps she had said something wrong and he was retrieving a weapon to kill her.
Instead, he revealed a small journal. He flipped through the pages and mumbled. "...pink… pink…pink..."
He stopped on one the pages with a five by five grid of squares drawn on it. "...alright, where were you… Ah Ha! There you are. Pink hair."
He made a mark in one of the squares. "Great, now all I need is to find someone with blue hair and I'll have bingo."
"...B-Bingo?"
Rhamnusia closed the journal and returned it to his coat. "Yes, bingo. Every color of the visible spectrum seems to be an acceptable hair color around here, almost as though it were an unspoken rule of the universe. Might as well try to make a game—"
The strange box she had seen earlier suddenly made a noise on his back. A muffled voice appeared "I got him. He's alive, but not very happy. Were a little ways out in the forest. Over."
Rhamnusia unhitched the box and brought it to his mouth. He gestured to the girl. "Pardon me, mäuschen. I need to take this."
He pressed a button. "Did he use any extra spells? Over."
"Just the 2nd tier 「Invisibility」 he was using to try and hide from me. I wasn't keeping track of what he was using earlier though. Over."
"It's alright, I remember most of it. We should be able to reconstruct his metrics from there. Likewise, we should use that 「Charm Person」 scroll to get him to use the wand. Over."
"...Are you sure? I'm not sure if I can pull that spell off while he's this healthy. We'll have to probably beat him up a bit…"
There was a long pause.
"...You need to say over when you finish your message, Ve—...Calico. Otherwise it becomes chaos. These are half duplex devices. Over."
"R-Right, Wes—...Rhamnusia. I just forgot, sorry. Do you have someone with you?...over."
"Just a little elf girl with pink hair. Over."
"Hey! You knew I needed pink for bingo!...Over!"
"You know the rules. I found her first. Anyways, just drag him back over here for the tests."
"Drag him back over there? Are you kidding me? How strong do you think I am? I can't carry a fully grown man wearing plate armor through all this brush. And I'm not planning on wasting anymore mana levitating him back through the forest. Just come to me. Over."
Rhamnusia blinked as though he was about to say something, and then after a second of contemplation he returned to the box. "Okay, no problem, I'll come to you then. Over."
"Did everything on your end go alright? Over."
"Of course it went alright. A half-dead man brought a farming implement to a gun fight. How'd you think it'd go? I'll see you in a minute. Over."
"Copy that."
The muffled noise from the box disappeared and Rhamnusia put it back where it came from.
He turned back to the elf. "When the military gets here in about an hour or so and asks you all sorts of questions. Tell them something like 'Mr. Rhamnusia was really really nice and beat all of the bad guys attacking the village' or whatever."
The girl felt a lump rise in her throat. "Y-You killed all of them?"
"Captured." Rhamnusia replied. "It was one squad; five people this time. One melee, two specialized magic casters, one ranger, and one assassin. They're pretty tricky to handle at first, but once the ranger and one of the casters are taken down and they start thinking about retreat, the situation becomes trivial."
The girl's eyes grew wide. She quickly ran out the door and into the village.
She looked around in utter shock.
Her village was a small one, yet still, the theocracy had somehow managed to line the forest floor with bodies with only five soldiers. Charred and dismembered elves littered the commons.
Her eyes began to water.
A great cloud of yellow fog hung in the air below her.
Her hands went to cover her nose instinctively. She was not in the yellow cloud, but somehow she could still smell it.
It was like rotten garlic and rancid onions, soaked in acetone and mixed with ammonia.
She felt Rhamnusia approach her from behind. "Just because it's too dilute to see it here, doesn't mean it's safe."
She already felt herself growing light headed.
"If you can smell it, you're too close to the gas. I suggest joining the rest of the survivors on higher ground as soon as possible, if you don't feel like getting poisoned, that is."
She turned her gaze to Rhamnuisa's mask with hope in her eyes. He didn't seem quite as scary anymore. "Survivors?"
"Mhm. I think I saw them congregating over in that direction." He pointed a finger towards the far edge of the village.
"I have to go run a small errand so you'll have to find them by your—"
The girl's body moved of its own accord and she raced off in the direction of Rhamnusia's finger.
"...Okay then. Off you go…."
He slung the unconscious scythe wielder onto his back and glided down into the forest below.
…
He found Vera a little ways into the forest.
She was standing over an immobilized member of the holocaust scripture. His armor was magnetized together, holding him in a contorted, balled up shape that must have been extremely uncomfortable. He was on his side and half of his face was submerged into the soft mud of the damp forest floor.
He shouted curses at Vera through his ragged breathing as he pulled his head in and out of the mud.
"...You will regret this! The entire Theocracy will come down on you like the hammer of the gods! We will…"
Stockwell approached her, dragging four additional scripture members behind him with the aid of his spider appendages. All four of them were unconscious and bound by their hands and feet with metal cables.
The scripture member on the ground saw his approach.
"Rhamnusia!" He shouted. "So you are human! But that doesn't mean you'll get away with this! As soon as we pin your movements down, we'll descend on you in full force! Do you really think you can just keep running around this forest and…"
Stockwell ignored his ranting and turned to Vera.
"I've already treated these four's mortal wounds and gave them some halothane. They'll be up in about twenty minutes. I haven't paralyzed their arms yet. Have you searched that one for wounds yet?"
Vera nodded. "Two gunshots in the abdomen. Through the armor."
"Got it."
Stockwell knelt down and examined the man's armor. He found two small holes. "Alright. The armor isn't that thick, I'll write it down when doing the calculations later. Did you nab his magic items?"
Vera held up a pair of items in her hand; a necklace and a ring.
Stockwell recognized them immediately as a necklace of light foot and a ring of lesser dexterity. Every member of the holocaust scripture had these two same items on them. Stockwell was impressed as it seems the Theocracy was able to mass produce low level magic items to equip their scripture members with. It couldn't have been cheap.
Stockwell knelt down and began to poke around at the scripture member's neck.
"H-Hey!" He shouted. "What are you doing!?"
"Relax." Stockwell said. "I'm just measuring your health points."
Stockwell layed out some supplies on the ground and began to conduct tests as he had several times before. He inserted a large needle into the man's neck and extracted a small amount of blood.
Stockwell spoke as he was conducting the tests. "By the way, I believe I told this to the last group, but I'm willing to parley with your people."
The scripture member went silent for a moment, but gave him a look as if to say "I'm listening."
"Yes." Stockwell said. "Your captain, Oseweic, I believe his name was. As well as general Valerian. I would very much like to meet with them. Obviously, it will be a peaceful encounter, I have much to discuss. I might even remove the paralysis on all of your comrades depending on how the discussion goes."
The scripture member simply glowered at him, but the look in his eyes told him that he understood the message.
"I don't expect you to just lead me back to your camp, obviously. I already know where it is. I'd just like it if your bosses could inform everyone of my peaceful intentions and come up with a place and time for us to meet. That way we don't have to attack each other on sight next time we run into one another."
Stockwell wiped a mixture of the scripture member's blood and some chemicals on a piece of paper and watched the color change. He compared it to a chart.
"58 RHC, not bad for a magic caster." Stockwell said. "You guys tend to have a lot less than the defenders of your group. Alright, we're doing strength next."
He turned to Vera. "Help me out here."
"Got it."
Vera took off one of the scripture member's magnetized gauntlets while Stockwell placed a small device in the scripture member's hand. The device resembled a V-shaped bar with a force gauge in the middle. It was a simple tool used to measure grip strength.
They did not bother trying to get the scripture member to cooperate with the test. Vera simply wrapped her fingers around the scripture member's hand and sent a short, electrical impulse into it. Immediately, his hand clamped up on the device.
"What the hell was that?" The scripture member asked with a bewildered expression.
"Electricity." Stockwell replied curtly. He did not elaborate further, as he was busy reading the value of the gauge and doing some mental math.
He wrote down a value in his journal. "1.68 SHU, that's too low for supernatural factors to be measured in vivo. We'll have to physically dissect your muscles to get an accurate assessment."
He and Vera both looked up from the journal and up to the scripture member who looked back at them with a nervous expression.
"Don't worry." Stockwell said. "We don't have the time or tools here for that. It's alright, we can still use the value as a relative benchmark for the next test."
Stockwell then began to measure out a volume of dark greenish liquid into a syringe.
Apparently, the scripture member could sense something ominous from the liquid because he broke his silence to ask. "What is that?"
"Poison." Stockwell replied flatly. "A concentrated alchemical poison that will drastically reduce your health points."
"I thought you didn't kill people?" The scripture member asked, disguising the fear in his voice."
"Who said anything about killing?" Stockwell replied. "I took those measurements for a reason. This should deal exactly 57 RHC worth of damage to you and greatly weaken your muscles. You'll feel a massive drain to your vitality, and you'll likely feel viciously dizzy, but other than that you should be fine."
Stockwell injected the scripture member with a syringe and slowly injected the poison.
The dark liquid colored his veins black as it entered his system. He shook violently inside his magnetized armor as he stifled a scream.
"Sorry," Stockwell said, "I probably should've warned you. This is going to be extremely painful. Like lava in your veins. Just deal with it. For science."
"S-Science?" The scripture member stuttered. His eyes were watering and sweat poured down his face.
"Yes. Science." Stockwell said. "I know you may not understand, but there is tremendous purpose to this. Endure it. The knowledge gained here will benefit all mankind."
The scripture member clenched his teeth in pain. His eyes darted around and from his expression, Stockwell could tell that he could not understand.
Stockwell didn't expect him to. Afterall, this research was still in its infancy. In addition to "Health Points", "Mana Points", "Kinetic Strength", "Physical Durability", and "Magical Durability", he was beginning to identify two more distinct metrics that could be measured and quantified.
One of which he was calling "Auxiliary Resistance". This metric described the degree to which an individual could resist the secondary, non-damaging effects of spells and other effects such as those instilled by poisons. For example, the alchemical poison he was currently injecting into the scripture member had an effect on it that reduced strength.
Stockwell already knew to what degree that the poison reduced strength in their rats and other human subjects like himself, so by comparing the reduction in strength between the scripture member and other test subjects, they could gain a valuable data point for nailing down the specifics of the "Auxiliary Resistance" metric.
The soldier's body went limp as a result of the weakening poison, though he was still conscious. His words came out as unintelligible slurs.
"Let me measure his health points again quickly to get his resistance to poison damage."
Stockwell took another small sample of blood and ran the tests.
"3.8 RHC. About a 5% damage resistance. Okay, now strength once more."
Vera put the device back in the scripture member's hand and forced his muscles to contract. Stockwell read the gauge.
"Got it. Let me do the math here."
After a few quick calculations, he scribbled down the final result. "0.278 SHU. I'm not sure where that puts him with the rest of the data. We'll have to cross reference him with the rats and collect some more data points."
Vera nodded. "Did we want to do the wand test?"
"If you think you can charm him, then yes."
"He should be weak enough now." Vera replied.
"Go ahead then."
Vera revealed a scroll.
She unraveled it and stretched her hands towards the restrained scripture member.
The scroll disintegrated into pink flames as a wave of magic washed over the scripture member. A strange calm seemed to wash over him.
"It worked." Vera said.
Stockwell nodded in affirmative. "Can you hand me the block?"
Vera wordlessly took out a large chunk of gel-like material wrapped in cloth and handed it to Stockwell. She then knelt down and spoke pleasantly to the scripture member.
"Hello? Can I ask you to do something for us?"
The scripture member adopted a dumb, half-smiling expression as though he were drugged. His head rolled around in his magnetized restraints to try and get a better look at Vera.
He spoke softly. "Sure. What do you need?"
Vera placed a small wand in his hand. "This is a wand of 「Magic Arrow」. I want you to fire it into that block of gel as soon as that man tells you to."
She pointed to Stokwell where he was laying out the block of gel in front of the scripture member.
Vera then went about orienting the scripture member so that he could aim the wand properly.
"Alright." Stockwell said. "Have at it."
The scripture member glanced back at Vera as if to ask for confirmation.
"Go ahead." Vera said. "Fire the wand."
The scripture member activated the wand.
「Magic Arrow」
A glowing arrow materialized at the tip of the wand and launched forth into the thick block of gel.
The glowing arrow buried its way through the material, leaving a detailed, lumpy tunnel in its wake before fading away into nothing.
The purpose of this experiment was to collect data on the metric Stockwell was calling "Magical Boost."
"Magical Boost" described the degree to which the damage and effects of spells were enhanced depending on who cast them. That is to say, a 「Magic Arrow」 cast by someone with a higher "Magical Boost" would be more destructive than someone who had a lower magical boost.
Unfortunately, this was a hard metric to pin down. Within Moot village, only Vera, Galdur, and strangely Stockwell himself had noticeable levels of "Magical Boost" and the rats were unable to use the 「Wand of Magic Arrow」, so it was difficult to collect data on the phenomenon. That was why they had to go about collecting data from magic casters like the Holocaust Scripture member before them.
They could take a mold of the path the 「Magic Arrow」 had made in the block of gel and compare it to other tests to determine the "Magical Boost" of the scripture member.
"Are we good?" Vera asked.
"Pretty much." Stockwell said. "All we need to do now is measure this guy's mana points, put him to sleep, and paralyze everyone. After that we're good to go."
Of course, they needed more data on "Mana Points" as well. There wasn't enough variation between the dire rats and the people of Moot Village to gain useful data. However, the holocaust scripture members all had a good variation between their various metrics.
One could actually say that the cosmopolitan array of high level and varied fighters within the Holocaust Scripture was the ideal population of test subjects for collecting useful data on the various supernatural metrics that suffused all creatures in the New World.
He handed Vera a stopwatch.
"Now."
He stuck a pair of items into the scripture member's neck simultaneously. One was a small mana mosquito that had its body tightly bound. The next was a thin needle that Galdur had crafted from their mosquito parts called a "Weapon of Damage Mana". It had the ability to directly reduce a target's mana points on a hit. Likewise, when it was inserted and in constant contact with a target's body it would reduce their mana point's at a constant rate.
Because they already knew the speed at which both the mosquito and needle reduced mana points at, they could simply time how long it took for the mosquito to cease its ability.
Upon insertion, the mosquito faintly lit up with a blue light. Vera watched carefully, and upon the mosquitos light fading, she stopped the stopwatch.
"38.5 Seconds."
"Good."
Stockwell removed the mosquito and needle and correlated the value to an entry on a table in his journal. "490 mVr. That's pretty high considering he's used a few spells already."
Vera nodded in agreement. "He was a skilled caster. It's just unlucky for him that we took out his support before he could fire off any big spells."
The scripture member was barely conscious as a result of him having zero mana points, nearly zero health points, and his system overrun with a strength sapping poison.
Vera patted his face and spoke pleasantly to him. "It's alright. You can go to sleep now."
As she was consoling him, Stockwell injected him for a final time with a small amount of halothane. It was a general anesthetic, and he wouldn't need much considering the scripture member's current condition.
Once they saw his eyes close and his head slump forward, they both sighed together.
It was a lot of work to manage these people.
First they had to fight them without killing them, then they had to talk with them, then they had to conduct their tests, then they had to safely put them to sleep, and then finally they needed to conduct a small surgery to paralyze their arms. It was no small hassle.
Stockwell took off his armored gauntlets and cracked his knuckles. "Time to get to work."
The surgery had taken about five minutes per person the first time he did it, but once he had gotten the hang of it, he could conduct the surgery in about 1 minute.
Vera helped as well, as she too knew her way around a scalpel.
He layed out the first unconscious scripture member face down on the mud before him while Vera did the same.
He took out a stainless steel knife and made a large incision to one side of the base of the neck, coming in from an upper to just above the collar bone.
Blood pooled from the incision but Stockwell was undeterred. He simply soaked up the excess with a rag, knowing that the blood vessels would heal themselves automatically once he closed the wound with a healing potion. So long as he did this quickly, the patient wouldn't die from blood loss. It was the main reason why he could get away with doing the surgery so quickly.
He then quickly took a smaller scalpel and cut into the scalene muscles of the neck until he saw the area he was looking for.
It was the space in which a small bundle of nerves ran from the neck down into the shoulders and arms called the brachial plexus. He found the nerves and followed them until they were just behind the collar bone were they were very close together in a loose bundle.
He then carefully bunched them up with his bare fingers and severed them in one go with a sawing motion.
The nerves were around the space of the axillary artery. If he accidentally cut that, the patient would bleed out almost immediately and would be forced to apply potion immediately to close the wound and restart the procedure.
Luckily, there were no mishaps this time.
For all intents and purposes, this scripture member's left arm was now paralyzed; completely cut off from the brain. However, a simple healing spell would be able to restore the nerves and functionality to the arm, as such, an extra couple of steps needed to be taken to ensure that the Theocracy couldn't just turn around and easily restore them.
Stockwell gently placed a tiny ceramic plate in between the ends of the severed nerves. This would ensure that the nerves wouldn't be able to reconnect even if they were regenerated. Next, he applied a drop of concentrated "natural healing potion" to the area. This would stimulate the body's natural healing process, causing a small amount of scarring to occur.
The severed nerves grew out slightly in response to the potion, but were unable to navigate around the plate and eventually went still.
Because the natural healing process had now taken place, the current position and shape of the nerves were now considered the natural state of the body. As such, normal healing magic would now only restore them to their new dysfunctional state.
Stockwell finished the surgery by applying a few drops of concentrated normal healing potion to the incision.
The soldier's flesh knit closed in seconds, leaving no trace that a surgery had taken place.
From what Stockwell understood of healing magic, it shouldn't be impossible to restore movement to the arm. It would just be very difficult and would likely take the Slane Theocracy quite some time to figure out.
First they would need to somehow locate the tiny ceramic plate in the patient's neck and remove it, then they would have to cast a high level healing spell capable of regenerating long lost body parts to regrow the nerves to their original positions.
He figured that they had some time before they figured it out. Doubly so because he had made it clear to the scripture members he captured that the cause for the paralysis was a magical curse. He hoped they would waste a lot of effort looking for a curse that was never there.
Once he wiped the blood from the scripture member's skin, he did the same for the other arm.
"One down." Stockwell said as he closed up the wound.
"Same here." Vera said.
"Three to go."
…
They both finished work on one additional person.
"Alright, I'll do the last one." Stockwell said. He laid the final scripture member, the scythe wielder, on the ground and started the surgery.
"I'll call for Faber then."
After Vera stood up and finally took her attention off the ground, she suddenly went still. She began to look around.
Stockwell noticed her sudden change in attitude..
"What's wrong—?"
"—Shhh." She immediately hushed him.
She spoke quietly. "I think someone is watching us."
Stockwell quickly looked around the foliage but saw nobody. He looked at Vera and followed her gaze.
She was staring at a patch of forest just ahead of her.
"I swear there's…" She seemed confused, like her eyes were trying to piece together an optical illusion. "It's not invisible, but there's something metal moving right there… can you?"
Stockwell stared at the same patch of forest as she did but saw nothing.
Vera reached out towards a bush to caresse one of the leaves.
Immediately, her hand tensed up in alarm and Stockwell jumped to his feet in alarm
"What is—!" Vera exclaimed. It looked as though one of the branches of the bush reached out to grab her wrist.
"—Easy, It's alright."
The voice sounded like it belonged to that of an old man. It did not sound threatening. The patch of forest before them began to shift as though it were a fading marriage.
The foliage twisted into vaguely humanoid shapes; the bark turning into skin and the leaves turning into hair. This was clearly some form of illusion or concealment technique that was being undone.
As the illusion faded, they could make out the form of three elves. One was grabbing Vera's wrist while the other two stood back to the side.
One of the elves in the back wore a robe of woven vines and leaves and lichen grew from his hair like a thick shag rug. In his hand was a knotted wooden staff that seemed to sprout natural flowers at the end.
The elf opposite him had an even stranger attire. He seemed to be wearing clothes made of individual pieces of papers covered in magical writing. Other than that, all he had was a wooden shield.
Both of them had heterochromia.
And finally, the elf that was grabbing Vera's wrist was difficult to describe.
He likely still had some stealth ability that made him hard to perceive, because when Stockwell tried to look at him his eyes would inadvertently drift to the surrounding foliage. It was a strange sensation. Stockwell knew empirically that someone was there but his eyes simply reduced to perceive him.
The effect only lasted for a moment though and he too quickly came into view. He appeared to be an old man, dressed in leathers with an ornate longbow slung along his back. His eyes were normal colored.
He gently let go of Vera's wrist.
They did not appear to be hostile.
"We're sorry for startling you." The old elf said. "We were going to introduce ourselves eventually, we just thought it would be safer to observe you first."
Vera retracted her hand and Stockwell slowly lowered his rifle.
"Who are you?" Stockwell asked.
"We're with the military. Are you Rhamnusia?"
Stockwell exchanged a glance with Vera before answering.
They weren't on bad terms with the elf nation's military or anything like that, so there was likely no reason to act concerned. However, Stockwell had been trying to avoid getting too affiliated. If anything, he could end up joining the Theocracy's efforts and turn around and attack the elves depending on how things worked out.
"Yes. I am." Stockwell said. "How long have you been watching us?"
"Not long." The old elf replied. "One minute at most. She detected us quickly as soon as we got close."
"I see…" Stockwell said. He figured that they must have approached very slowly after finding them, otherwise Vera likely would've noticed them from much further away. Metal that was moving quickly was far easier to detect than metal that was still, since metal moving relative to a magnetic field generated an electric current. The old elf who appeared to be a ranger likely had a few metal arrowheads on him.
"We'd like to talk about some things, Rhamnusia." The old elf said. He smiled. "We've been trying to track you for a while, but you fly around so fast!"
The old elf let out a light hearted laugh.
The two elves behind him seemed to be uncomfortable with the old elf's suddenly amiable manner and shifted uncomfortably.
"It's alright." The old elf said, as though detecting their discomfort, "Not all humans are bad."
Stockwell eyed him suspiciously. "...Right. Well…"
Stockwell looked back down beneath him where there was still one scripture member with an open wound who they had yet to paralyze.
"We're a little busy at the moment. Could you give us a second to finish this up?"
"Sure." The old elf replied. "I'm Telenym, by the way."
"Rhamnusia." Stockwell said. He then gestured towards Vera. "Calico."
Telenym gestured to the two men behind him. "Rumo. Mimin."
Stockwell exchanged a polite wave with them before quickly crouching back down to complete the surgery. Afterall, he had stopped halfway through and he needed to finish up as soon as possible before the scripture member bled out.
The three elves slowly approached as he worked, but did not get too close. They were merely trying to demonstrate that they were peaceful. Vera kept a close eye on them.
She seemed to be paying close attention to the fact that two of them had heterochromia like herself, though she didn't bring it up. She currently had her gas mask on, so it was unlikely they had noticed her own eyes.
After about twenty seconds of awkward silence while Stockwell hurriedly conducted the surgery, the elf who had lichen growing out of his hair, Mimin, craned his neck to get a better look at what Stockwell was doing. "You're fighting against the human's right? So why don't you ever kill them?"
Stockwell was prepared for this question. It was only natural that the elves would get suspicious of his true intentions if he never killed the scripture members. Doubly so since he himself was also a human.
"There was once an emperor named Basil II of Byzantium." Stockwell said. "After a long battle against the Bulgarian Empire, Basil had discovered that his army had captured 15,000 prisoners of war."
Stockwell spun the tale as he worked. "Now, Basil II was a cruel and cunning emperor. So instead of interning or simply executing the 15,000 prisoners, he did something that he thought would have the maximum effect on the enemy nation."
"Maximum effect?" Mimin asked.
"Yes." Stockwell said. "He did what he thought would hurt the enemy nation more than simply killing 15,000 of their soldiers. He divided all 15,000 prisoners into groups of 100 men each and ordered that 99 of them have their eyes gouged out."
Stockwell finished the surgery on the first arm and moved to the second arm. "He then ordered that the 100th man have one of his eyes gouged out so that they could lead the other 99 back to their home country."
"The philosophy behind this," Stockwell continued, "Was that these now blinded men would become a burden to the Bulgarian Empire. They would return home and be unable to work, unable to fight, and would need to be taken care of by their friends and family and would overall reduce the Bulgarian Empire's capacity for war. More so than if they had simply been killed."
The three elves retreated into thought.
"Why didn't the Bulgarian empire just restore the soldier's lost eyes?"
Stockwell chuckled softly. "Well, the Bulgarian Empire didn't have the kind of magic to restore missing eyeballs."
"Hmm. So that's what you're doing here, then?" Mimin asked.
"Exactly." Stockwell replied. "I'm paralyzing these soldiers' arms in a way that the Slane Theocracy won't be able to heal. They'll return to their home and be unable to fight or work. They'll be dead weight, and the people of the Theocracy will waste their energy trying to heal them and take care of them. It's far more effective than just killing them."
"I see…"
The elves seemed to accept the answer.
Stockwell finished the surgery and stood.
"So having heard that, I'd appreciate that you don't kill these guys. They should wake up in about 10 to 20 minutes." He began to pack up his materials. "We should move before then if you want to talk."
…
The five of them trudged through the forest.
According to Telenym, the three elves were part of an elite group of a few dozen soldiers belonging to the elf military. The three of them specifically were tasked with helping combat the Holocaust Scripture whenever they appeared deep within the forest.
They had heard of Rhamnusia, and had been asked to investigate the matter. Apparently they had been trying to track them down for three days but had been unable to keep up with their speed. It was only through luck that they happened to be close to the village when they were.
Stockwell asked about the political and military structure of the Elf country.
Apparently, there was no name for the country that existed within the Sea of Trees as the elves had no need to identify their land as something separate from the rest, so just calling it a country was enough for them. Still the elves followed a hierarchy and were ruled by a powerful king hence the Elf Country was loosely considered a kingdom.
The Elven King, Decem Hougan, served as its sole governing entity. According to Telenym, the king has ruled for almost 400 years from the forest's only large city.
Moreover, there seemed to be a lot of tension within the elves concerning their king.
Telenym spoke of Decem with a profound tiredness while Mimin and Rumo did not hide the contempt in their eyes when speaking about him.
"Decem does not truly care about the well being of the elves within this forest," Telenym explained, "You could actually say that the military resistance against the human nation is an organization formed by the various settlements within the forest independent of the king's actions."
"If we did nothing," Mimin added, "This forest would suffer, and the people here would have gone extinct long ago."
According to them, the military acted practically independently of the king, while the king simply did as he pleased.
Stockwell pondered. "If everyone dislikes the king so much, why not simply overthrow him? You apparently have unanimous support."
"Hah!" Telenym laughed humorously while the other two elves grumbled.
"Decem is powerful." Telenym explained. "More powerful than every person within the forest combined. Even if we all rose up at once, we could not defeat him."
Stockwell blinked in surprise. "Really? He's that powerful?"
"Really." Telenym said. "Decem is the son of Hougan the Lancer. The elf I believe the humans call one of the Eight Greed Kings."
"The Greed kings? Really?" Stockwell could not suppress his interest at the mention.
"Really really." Telenym said.
According to Aamon's research, the Eight Greed Kings, just like the Six Great Gods were the mysterious beings called "Players", beings which could appear in the guise of any race, be it human, demihuman, undead, and apparently elf. The same type of being Stockwell suspected Ainz Ooal Gown to be. They were beings of legend— beyond powerful. If the elf king was the son of such a being, then it was only understandable that he would have enough power to wipe out all the elves within the forest and then some.
Stockwell was now incredibly intent on meeting with the elf king and asking about their father. But… that seemed extremely risky given what he just learned about his personality.
Stockwell looked back at Telenym. The elf was old — the oldest he had seen since coming to this new world. He had heard that they could live up to a thousand years old. That being the case…
"Telenym." Stockwell said. "How old are you?"
"840 years." Teleynm responded with a toothy smile.
Stockwell did not get the sense that the elf was making that up. 840. If that was the case, then Telenym was potentially a treasure trove of historical information.
"840!" Stockwell could not suppress his joy. "Does that mean you remember the introduction of data?"
Telenym was probably expecting a question regarding the past given Stockwell's enthusiasm, but the expression on his face told him he had no idea what Stockwell just asked.
"Sorry, what?" Telenym asked.
"Sorry, let me clarify." Stockwell corrected. "Do you remember any changes that occurred 600 years ago? Not just political changes, but like, magical, universal, and physical changes. The changes should've coincided with the appearance of the Six Great Gods that the humans in this area worship."
Telenym nodded. "Indeed, I see. Not many are old enough to remember, but I do. I ventured out of the forest one day and everyone was speaking perfect Elvish. I could hardly believe it."
"The auto-translation." Stockwell smiled and took out his journal. He began taking notes.
"What about tier magic?" Stockwell asked. "Did that allo happen around the same time?"
"Yes it did." Telenym said. "You've done your research."
Telenym continued as Stockwell took notes. "I was never able to learn it. I had already reached my potential before the new magics came."
Telenym gestured to his bow. "Back then, martial arts and talents were all we had, and they're still all I have. I reached my peak at 230 years old and haven't grown at all since. I've grown weaker, if anything."
Rumo, the elf who was covered in magical papers, spoke up. "Telenym-sama is one of the few people remaining who knows the ancient ranger techniques."
Telenym nodded. "People today learn different techniques then the ones I did. If anything, the new ones are better. Not only the arcane magics, but also the druid craft and spirit magics that utilize mana. They're far more efficient then the way we used to do it."
He gestured to Rumo and Mimin. "Rumo uses talismancy and mana to summon and manipulate fey spirits, while Mimin uses his mana to cast druidic tier magic."
Stockwell furiously took notes. He was particularly interested in this so-called "Talismancy", and he made a note to ask about it later.
"So how did you do it in the past, then?" Stockwell asked. "Without mana, I assume, is what you're implying."
"I don't know, personally." Telenym said. "I never had the talent to communicate with fey or use druidcraft. All I know is that using those techniques used to require a tremendous amount of focus and vitality of the user and considerably reduce their life span. It's one of the reasons why there are no practitioners of the old magics left today."
"When you say 'talent'," Stockwell asked, "Are you talking about simple natural aptitude, or an intrinsic, supernatural ability?"
"I'm not sure I understand your question…" Telenym said.
"I see, I see." Stockwell wrote down his notes. This miscommunication was likely the result of the auto-translation not being perfect coinciding with a vague understanding of the meaning of the word 'talent'. It's the same thing that happens with the word 'skill'. Telenym was likely talking about supernatural talents.
"Thank you for being so helpful, by the way." Stockwell said as he continued to write in his journal.
Telenym smirked. "You're quite welcome. I hope you intend to pay us back."
"...Right."
Stockwell was making no secret about how much he valued this information and had therefore inadvertently indebted himself before deciding if he wanted to actually help these elves. Luckily, it seemed like Telenym was intelligent and easy going. Stockwell was sure that he could work something out with him. Besides, he really, really wanted to hear what this 840 year old elf had to say and was willing to pay quite a lot for it.
"I apologize for getting us off track. I'm sure you didn't track me down just so we can chat about history in the middle of a war zone, but while we have this opportunity I would really like to probe your mind for a bit, Telenym." Stockwell said. "It may not look like it, but I'm a researcher, you see, and I've never met anyone as old as you."
"It's alright." Telenym said. "There aren't many of us left from before the new magics, and there are even fewer who are so interested in learning our history. But I'll admit, I didn't expect the mysterious, monstrous Rhamnusia to be so amiable. Ask away."
"Thank you." Stockwell said. "So while we're still on the topic, what do you know about the Greed Kings, Telenym? Have you met one?"
Telenym shook his head. "Not really. I certainly never spoke with one if that's what you're asking. I saw Hougan the Lancer from afar once, about 470 years ago. Very interesting looking person. Mismatched eyes."
Telenym continued. "This forest was once ruled by a being known as the Gloaming Rot Dragon Lord. She was an adept practitioner of druidic magic and used her abilities to watch everything that happened here. She maintained an impressive civilization here; a queendom of sorts. Albeit, she kept the elves essentially as slaves, myself included. The humans and other intelligent beings who wandered in here were simply killed outright."
"Hougan killed her." Telenym said it without any form of joy or sorrow. "With the help of two other Greed Kings, they supposedly gouged out her heart and flayed her skin for all to see. I was not there though. After that, Hougan and the Greed Kings simply left without a word."
"Without The Gloaming Rot Dragon Lord, both the ecosystem and the people here devolved into chaos for a few years. After that, things managed to settle down for about 20 years until Hougan returned."
"By then, most of the True Dragon lords had been exterminated and the continent was practically wasteland from the Greed Kings Civil war. I suspect Hougan returned to the forest because he was trying to hide from the others. It didn't work, obviously. I trust you know the history?"
Stockwell nodded. "The Greed Kings killed each other, yes?"
"Correct." Telenym said. "Hougan fathered many children while he was in hiding. Of course, the Greed King and the army that came to kill him also killed all of his children. They were easy to spot after all, two different colors of eyes."
"The Greed King and the army he brought practically burnt down the entire forest hunting him. I survived by keeping my head down and taking shelter within the human nations while most of the others from my generation were killed. I imagine the infant Decem survived by similar means. I'm not sure what happened after that. Regardless, Hougan the Lancer is no longer here along with the rest of the Greed Kings, the forest regrew over time, and Decem came back after about a hundred years."
Stockwell looked up from his note taking. "You said you took shelter in the human nations?"
"That's right." Telenym said. "I can't speak for everyone, but humans and elves in these parts have been on good terms for most of the millennium. The beings called Six Great Gods were… a bit particular about demihumans and heteromorphs, but they took care not to kill elves and other humanoids. They had also worked out a peace with the Gloaming Rot Dragon lord, though I hear they had some problems with the other true dragon lords. I can't remember the specifics."
Stockwell nodded along as he took notes. "...interesting. Please, go on."
"Our current relations with the Slane Theocracy are the worst I've ever seen. Unfortunately human life spans are so short, so I doubt the humans coming here today even remember the time in which we used to live in peace."
Mimin the druid spoke up from behind them. "That doesn't mean they can be forgiven." He had a heavy tone.
"Of course," Telenym said. "We will do what we must to survive."
"...So" Stockwell pondered. "Why then is the Slane Theocracy attacking the elves here? I did my research before coming here, but I can't think of many practical reasons."
"It's because of Decem." Telenym said. "I'm not sure what he did to provoke them, but many of the humans coming here clearly despise him to the core."
Stockwell thought about it for a minute. He was confused. "So why not just step aside and let the Slane Theocracy fight the King? Surely that would be a win-win, right? No more elves would need to die and you get rid of the kin that no one likes."
"It's not that simple." Mimin said from behind before being superseded by Telenym.
"It's not that simple." Telenym said. "As I mentioned before, Decem is strong. We cannot defy him. While It's true that the military's operations are not directly overseen by Decem, it is still his will that we fight against the Slane Theocracy."
"It's his will that you fight?"
"Correct." Telenym said. "It is his edict that we bring about the legacy of Hougan the Lancer. To do so, we are required to field a certain quota of women so that they can grow stronger and become fitting mates for Decem to pass along Hougan's blood."
"Huh?" Stockwell looked up from his journal with a bewildered expression.
Mimin spoke. His voice was filled with venom. "He is scum. He treated my mother and sister like filth. He threw them at the enemy without a care just so they could be slaughtered by the humans. I doubt he even knows I exist. But what else are we supposed to do!? We can't just leave our sisters, mothers, and daughters to die alone on the battlefield! The only way this ends is with the Decem dead or the humans purged from the forest."
"Right." Telenym said. "However, for those who've seen Decem, it's far easier to believe that we can achieve victory over the humans than kill Decem."
"I see…" Stockwel muttered.
Rumo, the talismancer spoke up for the first time. "The humans aren't innocent either." He said softly.
"Also true." Telenym said. "I can only assume they're drumming up propaganda and racism over there in the Theocracy to fuel this war. They don't hesitate to kill or take slaves. There's little reason to doubt that even if they achieve their goal of killing Decem that their rule will be pleasant. Most people agree that living under Decem is the lesser of two evils."
"I think I understand." Stockwell said. "It's not an easy problem to solve."
"It's a cycle of violence." Telenym agreed. "This war has only escalated as the years have dragged on. For young people like Rumo and Mimin, they've spent more time knowing humans as bloodthirsty slavers than as people who we once conducted trade with and married."
Stockwell looked over to the two elves. It was evident from their expressions that they were still very mistrustful of him and Vera.
"Humans and elves…" Stockwell muttered. "You know, strictly speaking from a scientific point of view, we should both be considered humans, if not even the same species."
"What?" Everyone had said the word in confusion, Vera included.
"You heard me," Stockwell said. "Think of it this way."
He pointed to himself. "Homo Sapien Sapien."
He pointed to Vera. "Homo Sapien Magethius"
He then pointed to Telenym. "Homo Sapien Faerensis."
"Morphologically, and I assume genetically, all of us here are related closely enough to exist under the same taxonomic umbrella. Human."
Are you trying to say humanoid?" Telenym asked.
Stockwell rocked his head from side to side. "Mmm. Maybe, but I'm trying to be a little more specific about it. Take this for example: Can humans and elves have healthy children together?"
"Yes?" Telenym said.
"Okay, now can those children also have children of their own, be it with elf, human or other half-human-half-elves?"
"Yes." Vera responded.
"Exactly." Stockwell said. "There's one of the definitions of species-hood right there. And if humans and elves can interbreed so easily, who's to say exactly how much elf and human blood got mixed into either population long ago?"
"That is not the same as us being one people." Mimin said darkly. "The way we live is far too different."
"Of course." Stockwell said. "I'm just saying that it's best to be precise in one's racism, only so that historians may mock you for the correct reasons.
The two elves cocked their heads as though trying to figure out whether Stockwell was mocking them or not.
Telenym put up his hands before they could respond. "Regardless, Rhamnusia, Decem seeks to sire an heir containing the power of the Greed King's blood. I doubt he cares too deeply about the specifics of elfhood and humanhood."
"...Right." Stockwell said. "So speaking of Decem's almighty sperm…"
He looked back at the two elves. "You mentioned that the Greed King had different colored eyes?"
"Correct." Telenym said. "Both Rumo and Mimin here are Decem's children. He's had several hundred at this point. Most end up dead when Decem forces them in front of the enemy, but many of the males manage to slip through cracks thanks to their mothers or through Decem's negligence. Not all of them have heterochromia either, and sometimes the heterochromia can skip a generation."
"Hmm." Stockwell glanced back towards Vera who was remaining silent.
"Say. Telenym." Stockwell said. "You mentioned that the males often go unnoticed by Decem, but what about the females?"
Mimin replied instantly. "He does not let them out of his sight."
"He's an insestual rapist." Rumo added unceremoniously.
Telenym continued. "If you're a woman, you survive here by not standing out. In fact, it's likely the only reason Decem hasn't come for you despite your growing reputation is that you're a male. He probably doesn't care."
Their eyes all shifted to Vera. "Calico is included so rarely in the reports, I doubt Decem even knows you exist."
Telenym shifted his eyes back to Stockwell. "Since you asked, I assume you want us to keep it that way?"
"Yes please."
"Though, you probably shouldn't be too concerned." Telenym said to Vera. "Decem cares not for humans regardless."
"No, the concern is warranted." Vera said. "In fact…"
She turned to Stockwell. "Ahem, Rhamnusia. Are we sure we want to work with the elves? I know the situation is complicated with the theocracy…"
Stockwell pondered. "Sort of… At the very least, I'm already indebted to Telenym for all this information… Are you sure you want to do what I think you're about to do?"
"Yes." Vera said. "It'll help them trust us."
The elves watched as she removed her gasmask. She looked back at them with her mismatched, black and yellow eyes. "Hopefully we can work together, considering we're distant cousins."