The Flawed Ones Shatter
In the first month after he vanished, we thought it was just one of his pranks. We believed he'd come back laughing like always. But as time dragged on, our companion never returned. We couldn't sense his presence anywhere in the world.
We turned on each other in rage. The ones he'd gathered—we were all defective products. Without our center, we fought like we wanted to kill one another. We spewed the ugly thoughts we'd all harbored deep down. "You fucking bitch, you cursed freak, you should never have been born, you disgusting pleasure-killer, you piece-of-shit scrap heap, die. It's because of you, all you bastards... No... because of me..."
In the end, after clawing at each other, the defectives turned the blame inward. One raged endlessly, hating herself and spiraling into self-destruction. One accepted it and left the world behind, unable to fix her flaws. One denied it, clinging to the belief that by tracing his steps, he'd return someday. And finally, she despaired. If our companion wasn't anywhere in the world... then where could he be?
"Cough—! Cough..."
Coughs wracked her body in succession. Black blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Hayes wiped it away with practiced ease. It was the result of pushing herself relentlessly to find her companion, who had vanished without a word.
Even she—the elf with the most exceptional affinity in history and those special eyes—found it grueling to traverse the underworld for nearly fifty years. If she hadn't been a high elf of sacred bloodline, if she hadn't possessed the Death Eye, her soul would have perished long ago.
Even now, Hayes's soul teetered on the brink. Constant journeys to the underworld had drawn it closer to that realm than to Adenia. One misstep, and she might wander there eternally, unable to return.
Yet Hayes couldn't stop. No—she wouldn't. She couldn't sense the soul of her precious companion, the one who had saved her, anywhere.
What if he'd gone to the underworld without a word? Despite death closing in, she refused to abandon her searches.
This trip to the underworld yielded nothing—no trace of his soul. Hayes felt relief that he wasn't there. And sorrow.
What if he'd hidden his soul and abandoned us while alive?
Slap—!
Hayes struck her own cheek. A vivid red mark bloomed on her snow-white skin. She'd hit too hard—blood now dripped from her nose. She wiped it away and bowed her head.
As the years passed, such horrific thoughts plagued her more frequently.
"...I'm tired."
She didn't want to think. It was nothing but torment. Hayes trudged toward 'home,' focusing on each step to ward off the negativity.
Drip— Drip— With every footfall, red-and-black droplets marked her trail.
She barely made it to the bed and collapsed onto it.
"..."
She had to sleep. Restore her mana to open the underworld's gate again tomorrow. Hayes forced her eyes shut.
Sleep wouldn't come. Not from the stinging cheek or the foul blood. Anxious thoughts crashed over her like waves.
What if he had truly abandoned us? After saving the world, what use were we defective lumps?
The vile thoughts bobbed like buoys.
"...Enough."
They kept sleep at bay. Hayes tried summoning happy memories. Days fighting to save the world alongside her companion. Just recalling them eased the anxiety.
Still, sleep evaded her.
Shhh—
"—!? Gahk—!"
She gripped her own throat. Air cut off, pain surged. But she endured. She had to sleep, force mana recovery.
Thud—! Thud—!
Oxygen starvation made her legs kick instinctively for life. Her eyes rolled back; consciousness sank.
In her fading mind, memories reversed like a sea turning back. The first time she opened the underworld. The day she arrived in the Shadow Forest. The day he vanished and the defectives tore into each other.
And the day they saved the world, when he smiled.
His voice. His face. The words that saved her. They brought fleeting happiness.
In her sinking awareness, her first memory surfaced—the day she was born a defective.
Long ago, there was a prophecy from the World Tree's first daughter.
An elf with the Death Eye would lead Adenia to ruin.
An elf bearing eyes of death shall usher in the world's demise.
Elves styled themselves guardians of the world. They'd waged eternal war against the Abyss to protect Adenia. To safeguard it, they resolved to thwart the first daughter's prophecy: eliminate the elf with the Death Eye when she appeared.
Yet even by elven reckoning, ages passed without the Death Eye manifesting. Even after the first daughter, priests who communed with the Mother World Tree returned to her embrace—still, no Death Eye.
The prophecy faded to oral tradition, dismissed as mere legend.
Then, in House Delphia, an elf with the Death Eye was born: Hayes el Delphia.
Ironically, she survived thanks to her bloodline and the passage of time. Few remembered the prophecy anymore. And House Delphia was extraordinary even among elves.
Sacred high elves—and among them, House Delphia had produced countless priests. Priests communed with the Mother World Tree. With the great first daughter from their line, their prestige was immense.
Yet Hayes's life was no blessing. Without the prophecy, she would have been cherished, adored.
Even as faded lore, some remembered: the elders.
The elders rose, demanding the Death-Eyed Hayes be slain at once. Her birth ignited uproar in elven society. Debate over her fate split them into factions: pro-execution and opposition.
The pro side, led by elders, clashed with rhetoric of tradition and duty.
The opposition decried killing a rare high elf over ancient myth as absurd. Times had changed; they must evolve.
The deadlock persisted, opinions unyielding. Yet no one pitied Hayes. Her ominous Death Eye was undeniable fact.
House Delphia was sacred, but Hayes was cursed. As factional strife risked civil war, Delphia proposed compromise: imprison her deep in the Great Forest, in a place overflowing with unchecked life mana.
They deferred judgment to future generations.
All elves cheered the resolution. Pro-executionists welcomed dodging the headache. They consented. Oppositionists sighed relief at sparing a high elf in their time. They consented too.
Hayes did not. Thus was she abandoned by her kin.
Deep in the vast Great Forest lay a place of colossal trees, larger than elsewhere. Excess life mana saturated it—paradoxically uninhabitable.
Even elves' special plantings couldn't stem the overflow. Excess life ignored will, ceaselessly empowering. Living beings' cells hyper-activated, endlessly multiplying.
They sealed Hayes here, in this special containment zone. Barriers ensured no one entered—and she never escaped.
This place of life was hellish. Maze-like roots writhed above ground amid towering trunks. Canopy branches greedily blocked sunlight, admitting only slivers through leaf gaps.
"..."
In the labyrinth of life and shadow, Hayes merely existed, listless. She didn't know how long. From first awareness, only burn-worthy trees filled her sight.
Her life began and would end here. Drifting, neither dying nor truly living. Unable to leave proof of her existence.
Eventually, she wished for an end.
Rustle...
Her ears twitched. Foliage stirred. Likely beasts astray. No one would seek her in this life-choked horror.
She buried her face in her knees.
Rustle... Rustle...!
...!
The sounds repeated, then faded. As expected—nothing. No one came for her. Though such hopes had died long ago, a worn corner of her heart might still yearn.
"...I hate it now."
She plugged her ears. Gave up.
..."Hate it? Hate what?"
A voice? No—hallucination. Sometimes faint presences drawn by her cursed eyes appeared.
Probably them.
"Your hair's gotta be pure white, right? Hard to spot, but please say it is. Hey, you're the Dark Lord, yeah? Can't recall the name... what was it?"
The weary voice rang clear. Too vivid for phantoms.
Hallucination...? No...?
"...Uh!?"
The voice's owner lifted her chin from her knees. First touch from another. The strange sensation startled Hayes.
"Eyes confirm it—you're the Dark Lord. Hey, what's your name?"
"..."
Hayes's eyes widened; her mouth gaped. A living being. Someone had truly come.
"Huh? Crying all sudden? I haven't even said anything yet."
Her mind blanked; she froze. She stared at him—the one lifting her chin. An elf with short ears wiped her tears with his other hand.
She'd never known another's warmth could feel this way.
"Stop leaking, kid. We've got lots to do. Anyway, name?"
"...Hayes."
The word slipped out. Voice rusty from disuse, like scraping metal. Shame flushed her cheeks—a new feeling. Everything was new.
"Hayes... Ah, right. That's it. I'm Evan."
Evan smiled as he gave his name. Their unforgettable first meeting with her irreplaceable companion.