Chapter 118
The children he had thought he had escaped out of the cave were strewn helplessly beneath a ledge. Curtis and Axel were tied to a stone pillar a short distance away.
"So that was how you meant to move the larvae around, by weaving nets out of vines. Those pig's-hoof hands of yours really did twitch nimbly."
The vines binding them were the very ones Shrakhim had used when he made the net.
"Impossible...."
Devastated, Shrakhim muttered blankly.
"What's impossible is your foolish plan. Even goblins know enough to put up screens. Do you really think we elves would leave holes for insects to slip through?"
Lucy Perhela laughed brightly as she looked at him.
"You must have thought we'd all left the area. But what sort of host abandons the house after inviting guests?"
"Guests? What are you talking about? Then you lured me in-"
"Rest easy. We never invited a dung beetle like you. You, Shrakhim, are nothing more than an uninvited intruder. By guests, I mean Joren Tamer and the worthless rabble with him."
"Y-you called for the Count of the Border Region?"
"That's right. Joren Tamer, the one you've been longing for. Hoho, though I wonder whether Joren Tamer is waiting for you as well. Perhaps he'll be relieved to have shed such a troublesome burden."
At Lucy's words, Shrakhim was startled, yet some part of him felt relief too.
He had no idea what was going on, but if only the Count of the Border Region came, then those pointy-eared bastards would be-!
"In any case, we can't leave our honored guests alone in the middle of a banquet. Ah. In a sense, you weren't entirely wrong. We did indeed leave the lower level empty."
Lucy tapped her staff against the floor, and the ground around the magic circle where Shrakhim stood turned transparent.
"What? That place is...!"
Looking down, Shrakhim could only stare in shock. Far below him lay the very space where he had just been hauling the children around in a frenzy.
"There was no need to keep watch while breathing in the stench of pests from below."
"...You've been watching us?!"
"In a manner of speaking. I rather enjoyed your flailing about. I was getting bored, so that was a fine bit of entertainment. Besides, I was going to move those larvae anyway, and you saved me the trouble. For that, I ought to thank you."
"Larvae? You're talking about these children? You filthy bastards!"
Shrakhim roared and charged forward. Lucy snorted and swept her staff through the air as though driving off insects.
"Aaagh!"
He was flung back and slammed into the cave wall.
"Guide of Twilight, that was a waste of precious mana."
As Shrakhim crumpled down the wall after smashing his head hard, a young elf spoke.
Among the already tall elves, he stood out as exceptionally tall. Broad-shouldered and powerfully built, he had dirty-blond hair hanging down his back, and the tip of each strand was bound with a spearhead. An ornate silver robe was embroidered with a frozen sun.
"A waste of mana? You can't call a simple swat that sends a bug flying a waste of power, can you, Valepin?"
From Lucy's tone, though she looked older than him, the two seemed to be peers.
"I merely meant that it would have been better to let that human come all the way here."
"Could someone that dull-witted even make it up here? And even if he did, it would take him an eternity."
"All the better, then."
The young elf called Valepin gave a quiet smile at Lucy's amused chuckle.
"If we cut his wrists after all that climbing, we can drive him into even deeper despair."
"Oh! Now that's a fine idea, Valepin. Yes, thanks to that pig in human skin playing hero for no reason, our yield will fall, so we might as well make the crop plumper while we're at it."
Impressed by a point she had never considered, Lucy nodded and gestured to her underlings.
"Put the larvae back where they belong."
"At the angel's command."
Two male elves in plainer robes than Lucy's came down. Approaching the magic circle where Shrakhim stood, they grabbed the boys lying prone by the nape of the neck as though they were sacks and hurled them over to where the other children were.
"You pointy-eared bastards. What in the world are you doing? Cough."
Even in his battered state, Shrakhim pushed himself up.
"If you're curious, climb up here. I'll tell you everything. That is, if you can drag that heavy, ugly body of yours up this far."
"What did you say?!"
"Still, your performance with that teleport scroll was quite impressive. Let's call that a little praise for it."
Staggering forward, Shrakhim actually tried to climb the ledge, then hesitated.
"What's wrong? Weren't you the one saying you wanted to know what we were doing?"
He had seen the elves, Lucy included, smiling with thin, ugly amusement.
That's strange. They're saying they'll tell me their scheme. Why? For what reason? Sure, I asked them, but... I wasn't expecting them to actually answer.
There was a saying righteous allies often hurled at villains: "Stay right there!", "What trick are you playing?", "Stop that!" What did those lines all have in common? No one on the other side ever listened. Even the speaker didn't really expect them to.
Still, there were exceptions.
Are they telling me because I'm going to die anyway?
There were always villains so full of self-admiration that they would gush their plans to the enemy. Lucy Perhela, gleefully leaking from up high with that rotten smile, was exactly that kind.
Since they're elves, maybe they really would look down on me like that. Hm... that pointy-eared hag said the Count of the Border Region was coming. Elves don't lie, so for now that should be true. In that case, should I buy time until he gets here?
Shrakhim started to climb, then stopped again.
Wait. This is weird. No, suspicious! Look at those faces. There's no way a bunch of kidnappers and limb-cutters would suddenly be kind.
Seeing the elves' smiles, he felt a strong sense of something off.
Those mugs... they're definitely trying to mock me, and they mean it. But there's something else behind it, something they're hiding.
As someone gifted in provocation and ridicule, Shrakhim was now putting his sharp instincts to work.
Come to think of it, everything that's happened here is the same. They went to the trouble of making a magic circle just to mock me and the soldiers? Even for a long-lived race with time to burn, that's a bit much... Time? Do they really have time to stand around like this? However it happened, if the Count of the Border Region comes, they'd need to prepare too, wouldn't they?
Just as during that life-or-death game of tag with Hogrifon, his intelligence dice were spinning furiously under pressure. Judgment and deduction both seemed to be rolling a perfect hundred.
"What are you dawdling for? Get up here already."
Lucy looked as though she was smiling, but somehow she also seemed impatient.
"I-it's impossible. In this state, I can't possibly climb up-."
Shrakhim deliberately clutched his waist as though in pain and sank down.
"Ha! You're quite the performer. Priests, hand this pig in human form a rope or something to grab onto."
"As you command."
The elves lowered ropes woven from vines.
...They're really throwing me a rope? Not just mocking me for being too heavy to climb, like some pig? And why is that tall bastard holding his spear so proudly? They're planning to knock me off!
Gripping the rope, Shrakhim noticed the tall elf bracing his spear with force and saw through their intention.
But why? If they wanted to kill me, they would've done it already. What do they gain by going to this trouble just to mock me?
Then something came to him.
"I hope you've enjoyed yourselves. Despair that comes after hope is always the darkest and deepest of all."
Those were Lucy Perhela's words when he had been moved through the magic circle earlier, as she looked down at him.
She said something about despair! Hm... I feel like I should be able to remember this. Ugh... no, I don't know.
Unfortunately, that was where his reasoning ended. If this had been Ho-yeong, he might have grasped the truth immediately.
Still, one had to give him credit. For Shrakhim, this was a remarkable display of effort and wit.
I don't know what those bastards are plotting. Even so, there's no need to let the pointy-eared freaks have their way. I, Shrakhim, won't be dancing to their tune any longer!
Instead of climbing the ledge, he decided to make the others come down to him somehow.
"Hey, you old woman up there, spouting off like you own the place."
Pointing at Lucy Perhela, he began to provoke her.
"...Who are you talking about?"
Even after being so blatantly pointed at, Lucy asked back with perfect composure.
"Who else would I mean? Is there another old woman among those elves who's 'spouting off like she owns the place'?"
Lucy narrowed her eyes. The young elven women standing beside her all looked toward her at once.
"Priests, what are you staring at-"
"Aren't you that Ringring bitch? People said you were an elf around seven hundred years old. But to me, you look even older than that."
Shrakhim, who had often suffered from looking older than he was, was exceptionally skilled at needling others on the same point.
"S-seven hundred? I'm 530, thank you very much."
"Angel, hold fast."
The male elves abandoned the rope and took Lucy in hand instead.
"Angel? I don't know whether you're an angel, but you look about a thousand years old, if you ask me."
"How dare this maggot humiliate me? I'll purify you at once!"
"Guide of Twilight, please calm yourself. The Archangel is watching!"
Frenzied as she was, she came to an abrupt halt.
"T-the Archangel?"
Lucy raised her eyes to the ceiling high above.
When she saw the elf floating in midair, she and Valepin both dropped to their knees in a hurry.
"I offer my soul to the Archangel!"
The rest of the elves prostrated themselves as one.
What in the world is that? The leader of these insane pointy-eared bastards?
Having no knowledge of the Cliad Sect, Shrakhim only frowned and stared at the sect leader.
Huh? Is that one... really an elf?
At that moment, a chill locked his whole body stiff. A nameless sense of wrongness from the sect leader seemed to freeze his blood in his veins.
Something about him is different from the rest.
Was it because he was using levitation magic without a staff, as if it were nothing?
Was it because the jewels set in that ornate silver robe were shining even in the dark cave?
Was it because his short hair and eyes were black, unlike any other elf?
No, it's not that. It's the atmosphere. The atmosphere is completely different.
The elves here were clearly deranged, but at least they still looked like elves.
But that one doesn't feel like an elf at all. He feels like something else. Something very dangerous....
His build was obviously smaller than the other elves'. And yet, within that slight frame, he could dimly sense a colossal power lying in wait.
This, this ominous aura is exactly the same as back then.
The nightmare from ten years ago was rising through his senses once more.
Dragon... a Black Dragon!
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