Chapter 630: The Reprieve Granted by the Devil
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 630: The Reprieve Granted by the Devil
The white-haired elf’s expression was an enigma, impossible to read. He stared blankly at Encrid for a long moment.
If Frok possessed an eye that could read talent, this elf possessed a preternatural sensitivity to falsehood. Encrid had spoken with absolute sincerity, and the white-haired elf recognized it as such—even if the method itself was entirely beyond his comprehension.
Since the elf was sitting near the wall, he leaned back, resting his weight against the wood. Straightening his posture, he quietly observed his guest once more.
Through the round window behind the elf, Encrid caught the curious gazes of several young elves. They stood a few paces back, watching the scene intently. Being young, they had yet to master the art of emotional restraint; they were children whose curiosity was laid bare for all to see.
As he watched, a few elves who appeared to be adults—though they were similar in size—approached the children and spoke to them in an incomprehensible tongue. He heard melodic sounds like “Puluu-se” and “Dekedo.”
‘Come to think of it, it’s a wonder we can communicate so well.’
Even though the elves had their own language, they had been speaking the common tongue seamlessly until now.
After the adults scolded them, the children hesitated before shuffling away. They must have told them not to peek, Encrid thought. But as he watched, the three adults who had chased the children away immediately pricked up their ears and took the children's place.
‘They only chased the kids away so they could listen in themselves.’
That was how it looked to Encrid, and indeed, it was the truth. Their interest was overwhelming. They tried to appear indifferent, but their actions betrayed them. They were bursting with curiosity.
“It would be best to apologize,” Pel whispered from behind.
This was the same man who had just dared to joke about sewing his commander's mouth shut. Encrid saw no reason to listen to him.
“I was being sincere,” Encrid muttered.
“Just drink your tea first. Keep it in your mouth and don't swallow. Please.”
Pel was the Shepherd of the Wilderness. He had always considered himself a fool who didn't know how to socialize, but he realized now he had been mistaken. The real idiot was standing right in front of him.
When asked how to slay a devil, Encrid's answer was to slash vigorously. To keep slashing until it died.
He was a complete lunatic. But then, a thought occurred to Pel. ‘Is it because of his talent?’ Was Encrid’s talent so heavily skewed toward swordsmanship that he lacked basic common sense in other areas? It reminded him of Ragna—a man who couldn't even find east despite watching the sun rise.
It was a massive misunderstanding, but there was no one around to correct it.
In truth, Encrid was indeed being sincere. It wasn't that he had forgotten how to interact with people; he simply felt the need to respond with equal honesty to the genuine emotion he sensed in the white-haired elf's words. If any misunderstanding arose, he could always explain further later.
While this brief, silent farce played out, the white-haired elf organized his thoughts and spoke.
“We elves govern our society through a council formed by several families.”
It seemed sudden, but Encrid listened, sensing it was necessary information. As the elf spoke, all eyes naturally gathered on him. He calmly explained the structure of elven society: the heads of the families became council members, and those members elected a speaker from among themselves. The speaker would weigh everyone's opinions and make the final decisions.
There was supposedly a separate family that played the role of a king, but in human terms, they were closer to guardians than monarchs.
“And I am the head of the Ermen family.”
Though Encrid did not know it, the Ermen family was currently one of the pillars of the city. They had not proven themselves through military might, but the Ermen clan's craftsmanship and artistry had been the city's lifeblood for ages.
“Since I am the only council member left, my choice represents the will of everyone.”
The white-haired elf leaned forward, pulling away from the wall. He lowered his head slightly, his silver-gray pupils locking onto Encrid. Settling into a firm posture, he spoke once more.
“I will fight with you.”
His tone was solemn beyond measure.
Suddenly? Encrid realized he had fallen behind the pace of the conversation.
“Fight what?” Encrid cast aside formalities and asked bluntly.
“Did you not come here knowing the situation?” The elf raised his head and asked back.
“I know nothing,” Encrid replied.
“Then why did you come?”
“I came to ask why Sinar left.”
“You came just for that? Did Sinar say nothing to you? Nothing about her duty, or the danger threatening our race?”
Indeed, he had heard nothing.
“No.”
The white-haired elf, Ermen, quietly recalled the past before murmuring, “Sinar... you intended to bear it all on your own. From the very beginning.”
Though he was speaking to the absent Sinar, his tone remained flat and calm. It was the voice of someone reflecting on an inevitable tragedy and quietly accepting it.
“What a foolish thing to do.”
The words he muttered next were not entirely calm. A trace of regret seeped through. To Encrid, it was a succession of incomprehensible statements. They were words, but they lacked context.
Thud.
Encrid lightly tapped his fist on the table to draw attention. The effect was immediate, and Ermen's gaze shifted back to him.
“Could I ask you to explain the situation?”
“It is a difficult tale. A story far more unpleasant to swallow than sprouted potatoes, but if you wish to hear it, I shall tell you.”
He began his story.
“Within our city lies a cave from which monsters emerge. And in that cave dwells a devil.”
Elven society was in decay—a leaf slowly withering away, destined to eventually fall to the ground and shrivel into dust.
“Currently, we must use the hands of children to craft arrows, and some of our kind wander the continent as mercenaries just to survive.”
In any society, children are the future. Yet in elven society, even children were forced to make arrows. In a place crumbling into ruin, one could not speak of a future. Such was their reality.
All of this was because of the devil dwelling in the cave.
Misfortune did not come alone to this decaying society. There was persecution from the Elven Kingdom under the Empire's rule, and the schism where a faction of druids broke away. But the root of all these misfortunes was the cave. That devil, they said, had approached them with warmth only to turn into a consuming blaze.
Encrid straightened his posture and listened intently.
“Sinar made it her duty to slay the devil. If I may dare say so, while that might have been a blessing for the elves, it was a curse for her.”
Sinar's duty was tied to the devil inside the cave. The devil had made its desires perfectly clear: Send my bride inside.
Sinar was not the first to be the devil's bride. Long ago, those worthy of being called elven knights had gone in to subjugate the devil, only to fail and die. Afterward, monsters poured out in waves. The city had to fight while enduring heavy casualties.
As time passed, another elven knight set out to kill the devil. He, too, died. The misfortunes raged on without end. What the devil used to wither them was time itself. The bastard ceaselessly sent monsters out from the cave. Elves who commanded spirits, elves who became knights, elves who wielded magic—the best of them died one after another.
Every attempt to subjugate the devil failed. Only then did the devil demand a bride. With the sacrifice of the first elf, peace finally arrived.
It was a reprieve granted by the devil.
The monsters stopped appearing. Then, over a decade later, they emerged once more. The elves were desperate to kill the devil; they had not let that borrowed time go to waste. They had tried everything under the sun.
“To become his bride is to become the devil's plaything. Until the bastard grows bored, a hollow peace settles over the city. A cursed peace embraces us.”
What was harbored within that dry, listless voice? Regret, anger, worry, and remorse.
Even as day turned to night and hunger gnawed at him, Encrid ignored it, listening silently to the end before summarizing.
“So the point is, she went into that cave to become the devil's bride?”
“She went to beg the devil for a reprieve. Yes. In the end, we failed to lift the curse.”
The white-haired elf nodded. Sinar's mind bore a brand stamped by the devil. She must have suffered from nightmares and heard the devil's whispers since she was a child. It was a scar carved into her soul.
If Sinar found a partner and entered Holy Matrimony, the devil's curse would fade. In exchange, her partner would inherit the curse.
Was that how it worked? Encrid wondered. Was that why she had teased him relentlessly about being her fiancé, yet never dared to draw any closer?
“When she was a child, the devil whispered in her ear, telling her she was a cursed child. Some thoughtless fools even drove her into a corner because of it. Yet, those very people have all fled this place. They left just to survive, even if it meant losing their Vital Energy.”
Encrid caught an acrid scent drifting amidst the fragrance of the forest. It was the smell of blood and iron, something rarely encountered within an elven city.
“I am sorry, but I must head out now. You have chosen a bad time to visit.”
The white-haired elf rose to his feet at a pace that was neither hurried nor slow. In the time it took for the elf to take three steps across the floor, Encrid selected, organized, and absorbed the information he had been given.
‘A devil appeared and burned the city. Afterward, it made a cave within the forest—the elven city—and claimed it as its domain.’
‘The devil slumbers inside that cave.’
‘That devil demanded a bride once every few decades.’
‘To subjugate the devil, the elven city exhausted its combat-capable forces. Their knights are dead.’
Misfortune followed misfortune, and it all stemmed from the devil's lust for the elves. Even without seeing the devil firsthand, Encrid could sense its possessiveness, its relentless obsession, and its malice-filled greed. The cave was a low-grade Demon Realm, and monsters constantly poured from it, but once a bride entered, the monsters ceased to emerge.
The devil dwelling within was truly insidious. It was likely enjoying the sight of an entire city slowly withering to death.
A faint image began to form in Encrid's mind. A bastard cackling with Sinar by his side. Was a long, red tongue licking her expressionless cheek?
Beyond merely organizing the information, he was visualizing it. All of this occurred in the time it took for the white-haired elf to take three steps. His speed in grasping the core of a story was extraordinary—a talent Krais had acknowledged time and time again.
And there was something else that everyone who knew Encrid acknowledged: he knew the situation was dire. He knew it was dangerous. Yet, if he believed he was in the right, he would not hesitate. That was the kind of lunatic Encrid was.
‘At the root of all these dangers lay a devil. More precisely, a Demon Realm.’
The Demon Realm was the problem here as well. That damn Demon Realm. He had lost Oara in the Gray Forest. Was it Sinar's turn now?
A ripple stirred in his heart—a wave of impatience, irritation, anger, and stubbornness. Even so, his expression did not distort. His face remained even calmer than the elf's. He was simply reflecting on what needed to be done.
“What did you mean when you said you would fight with us?” Encrid threw the question at the back of the white-haired elf.
Like a stone thrown into a lake, Encrid's words were imbued with Will. It was only natural for the water to splash in response.
“I am going into the cave. To kill the devil,” Ermen said.
Whether elves possessed loyalty or not, Encrid did not know. However, they had not weighed their entire race against Sinar. They were simply marching down the path they believed to be right.
“We should have done so long ago,” the white-haired elf added.
Encrid had risen before anyone noticed, falling into step beside him.
“Is your name Ermen?”
“Once we become the head of a family, we discard our names.”
“Why is the city named Kirhais?”
Ermen answered calmly. Beneath his response lay a faint hope for assistance—the very help that Sinar had never asked for, denying Encrid even the chance to offer it.
“Did you not know? Kirhais is the name of the family that has protected this city for generations. In your tongue, you would call them the queen's family.”
He added that elves referred to them as the guardian family. Even though he was repeating himself, he did so without a hint of annoyance.
‘She was a queen?’
A new ripple stirred in Encrid's heart. She was a queen? Now this was truly surprising. What if he nicknamed her the "Old Queen" later? Ah, if he called her that, she would probably try to poke holes in his body with sparks.
That didn't sound too bad. Even if his body ended up full of holes, having her return to play along with such jokes would be a wonderful thing.
“Where is the cave?” Encrid asked.
“If you did not come to fight with us, it would be proper for me to stop you, but...”
Ermen's pupils trembled. Anxiety flickered in his silver eyes. No matter how well they restrained their emotions, how could anyone remain indifferent? Elves were people too. They merely suppressed their emotions; they did not lack them.
Sinar had entered the Demon Realm to protect them. Krang had told her to abandon her duty. That meant... ‘...not to risk her life for the elven clan.’
But Sinar had not done so. Because Encrid respected her, he respected her wishes as well. He intended to take a look at the Demon Realm of the elven city, Kirhais. Since he had come all this way, he planned to shout into the cave. Wouldn't it be quite amusing to call out to Sinar, telling her to come out and play?
As they walked behind Ermen, Pel whispered to Luagarne.
“I'm a bit scared.”
It wasn't something he should say, if only for the sake of his pride, but the words slipped out naturally.
“You're not afraid of the devil, are you?” Luagarne asked, even though she already knew. She herself had felt a dizzying sensation several times.
“No, I mean the Commander is scary.”
Just as Pel said, Encrid was radiating a quiet anger. It was like a cold fire—chilling, yet burning. And yet, as if anticipating something, his aura occasionally bristled like sharp thorns.
Ermen walked down a narrow path winding through the forest. As they walked along the path where tree roots protruded sharply, the surrounding scenery seemed to flash past. Even though they were merely walking, the trees receded behind them as if they were looking out from a moving carriage.
“We are here.”
At the sound of Ermen's voice, the path came to an end. They had reached a small clearing. The moment they arrived, a foul stench assaulted their noses. It was incomparable to the smell of animal waste; it was the smell of a corpse left to rot for so long that it was crawling with maggots.
He had heard that some devils emitted a terrible stench. Perhaps the devil of the cave was one of those.
A large crowd of elves had already gathered in front of the cave. At a rough glance, they numbered well over a hundred.
Standing before them, Ermen spoke.
“The reprieve granted by the devil has ended. No—we shall bring it to an end.”
Sinar had sought to protect them, but that was her own wish. The clan's heart, however, was different. They would rather fight the devil than lose Sinar. This was their conclusion.
Encrid liked their resolve. He truly did.