Chapter 319: Bread and Dagger (17)
Chapter 319: Bread and Dagger (17)
The parched earth was cold and dark.
The land, cursed by the Evil God, could not conceive any form of life. To survive upon it, one had to adapt to the biting cold and perpetual hunger.
Every living creature in the coniferous forest followed the rules of the Evil God Omeros.
The strong preyed on the weak, the weak deceived the strong, and violence and struggle never ceased in the desperate bid to prolong life.
In this pitiless law of survival, there was no room for morality or law to intervene.
Those who failed to adapt to the ways of the North were culled, their corpses relegated to a single meal for another living being.
There were no exceptions to this endless cycle.
When the Yurdina family, the overlords of the North, first arrived, they embodied the laws of the region.
That was how humanity had come to dominate the continent.
They were a species possessed of greater adaptability and potential than any other.
After a long war, even the elves had no choice but to acknowledge human superiority.
Cruel and wicked as they were, humans were strong.
They did not hesitate to abandon even their beliefs and traditions if it meant survival.
Driven to the precipice of existence, the elves were eventually forced to make a choice.
Would they be culled as they were, or would they emulate the humanity they so despised?
In truth, there was only ever one choice they could make.
Those who chose the former died; only those who chose the latter survived.
Carving out a destiny was the privilege of the living.
And it was the living who had to shoulder the heavy burden of a tenacious life.
Torches stood in a row in the heart of the coniferous forest.
The expressions of those holding them aloft like perches were uniformly somber. Whenever the reddish shadows of the flames flickered across them, bleak gazes scattered into the void.
Their ears were all pointed.
They were the elves who had been driven to the North.
A man stood in the center of their circle. He was a striking figure, his face a hideous mask of melted burn scars.
His skin was so badly fused that it was impossible to even guess his age.
The man forced his half-stuck eyelids open and cried out.
"Oh, everyone... thank you for joining this painful ritual again today. We are, unfortunately, trapped in the prison of the flesh. The souls the Heavenly God bestowed upon us are free, yet we, bound to these husks of bodies, suffer such pain and misery."
The man delivered his speech in a mournful tone.
His old, tattered priest's robes fluttered in the night wind. The North's razor-sharp wind must have been stinging, yet the man showed no sign of distress.
Or perhaps, it was the opposite.
The burns covering his body and his melted skin gave him a permanent expression of agony. Since he was always in pain, new suffering might not even register on his face.
It was his voice that best represented his inner state.
His scorched flesh and skin could no longer function properly.
He continued in a voice drenched in despair.
"We are sinners! We were imprisoned in the flesh because we sinned, and we suffer to pay the price... The reason we sustain our lives is to receive forgiveness for the sins we committed against the Heavenly God. Only after all those sins are liquidated can we reclaim the true freedom of our souls!"
As the man's speech continued, the elves' gazes sank lower and lower.
The sight of the bowing elves was like tombstones in a graveyard. A sad and solemn ritual unfolded amidst the blizzard.
It was then that the man raised the torch in his hand high.
He looked as if he were about to offer a prayer.
Tears streamed down from his eyes.
"But sometimes, the order of the Heavenly God is like a blade, delivering trials that are far too painful... It is alright. Pain is short, and happiness is eternal. If we must endure all the pain we are meant to suffer in life, then it is better to get it over with—we must save our brother!"
With those final words, he pointed the torch toward a certain spot.
Another figure, previously hidden by the darkness of the night, was revealed.
It was an elf, shivering and trembling with fear.
Unlike most of his kin, who were beautiful, this one was quite wretched, with a hunched back and a protruding lump. Even at a glance, he seemed to have difficulty moving.
Behind him, an elf who appeared to be his mother stood with her eyes closed, sobbing.
The hunchback elf seemed to lack full mental capacity, unable to even utter proper words.
"Ugh, ah... M-Mom. I-I'm scared..."
Finally, the female elf could not bear it any longer and collapsed.
Unable to control the tears flowing helplessly, she beat her chest and wailed. The expressions of the elves watching were equally bleak.
The man, too, seemed choked with emotion and remained silent for a while.
He merely patted the female elf's shoulder, offering apologies and comfort.
"I am sorry, I am sorry... But your son has lived such a painful life until now. He would have to live like that for another four hundred years. Compared to those long centuries, the next few minutes are but a fleeting moment."
"Please..."
Choking back sobs, the female elf clutched the man's hem tightly.
"Please, don't let my son be in pain."
It was a plea that sounded like resignation.
However, it seemed true that the man deeply empathized with those words.
Tears fell incessantly from his reddened eyes.
Several other elves could not hold back and broke into soft weeping.
The man promised in a firm tone.
"...I will finish it as quickly as possible."
He then trudged toward the hunchback elf. The hunchback instinctively shielded his head and let out a terrified whimper.
The man looked down at him with sorrowful eyes.
"Eat this."
He reached into his robes and pulled out a piece of bread, handing it over.
No grain grew in the North. There were countless elves who couldn't even manage a proper meal, let alone grain.
The hunchback elf, who was incapable of self-sufficiency, was no exception.
A faint light flickered in the eyes of the hunchback elf, who was exhausted from long-term hunger. Though he hesitated out of fear, the man patiently maintained a benevolent smile.
In the end, the hunchback elf could not overcome his instincts.
He devoured the bread ravenously. Though one might have expected him to choke on the food after so long, his meal was over in an instant.
And the moment the hunchback elf looked back up at the man with expectant eyes—
Thwack!
The hunchback elf's jaw was sent spinning.
For a moment, he wore a dazed expression, unable to grasp the situation. Only after he tumbled onto the cold ground did he feel the searing pain flare up.
The unfortunate elf wailed.
"Ugh, ah, ugh... Augh, augh, AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"
Hearing the scream, the surrounding elves turned their heads away. The hunchback elf's mother was practically pressed against the ground, bursting into convulsive tears.
The man who had struck the hunchback elf merely made the sign of the cross quietly.
"Lord, forgive me..."
After that, one-sided violence ensued.
Punches, kicks.
Blood and bits of flesh flew through the air along with pathetic shrieks. But the infirm elf could not resist the man, who wielded a mysterious, monstrous strength.
In just a few minutes, the hunchback elf was reduced to a pulp.
Only faint groans proved he was still alive. Pain-filled tears flowed from his vacantly staring eyes.
Only then did the man stop the assault.
Blood spatters on his priest's robes were emitting white steam. Despite the exertion, the man's breathing remained perfectly steady.
With a sorrowful look, he reached into his robes.
From the same place he had pulled the bread, he drew a dagger.
"This should be enough. The Heavenly God will surely forgive you... May you be happy, young soul."
Then, with a squelch, the dagger sank into the hunchback elf's throat.
The hunchback elf reacted violently, clutching his neck. But there was no way to stop the flowing blood.
Gurgle, gurgle. A final death rattle escaped him.
That was the end.
The head of the twitching hunchback elf fell limp.
It was the signal of death.
And starting from that moment, an incredible phenomenon occurred.
A blood-red mist began to seep into the spot where the hunchback elf's blood had pooled. The mist, having absorbed the blood, soon took shape and grew into a tree.
Crack, crunch.
The sound of the hunchback elf's corpse being crushed and turned into nutrients echoed. As if it were a bell tolling, several elves hurriedly raised their heads.
The small tree, which had grown rapidly in a matter of seconds, had a gruesome appearance.
It looked as if human bodies had been twisted to create a loathsome work of art. But no elf present cared about that fact.
They were only staring at the flesh chunks hanging from the tree.
After watching the tree with hollow eyes for a while, the man let out a long sigh and spoke.
"......You may eat."
The man then turned and walked away.
At first, the elves seemed to hesitate. No matter the circumstances, it must have been difficult to reach out for a tree that had grown by feeding on the corpse of one of their own.
But the moment someone's stomach let out a loud growl—
The elves turned into hungry beasts and lunged at the tree. They didn't care if a chaotic scuffle broke out in the process.
Even the hunchback elf's mother wiped her tears and stood up.
Leaving the midnight commotion behind, the man shed another tear.
"Immanuel..."
The Northern night was still far from over.
The night I interrogated Avian, I received a letter from Senior Delphine.
Its content was short and simple.
Help me.
I stared down at the words in silence before leaving my room again.
Avian's tearful plea weighed on my mind.
The elf girl had cried and pleaded.
'The elves, our people, are going crazy... If I don't send money, they'll even kill my younger brother! The Evil Cult sacrifices the most useless elves first...'
Did Avian have a younger sibling too?
The image of Ned overlapped with hers, making me feel uneasy. It was truly useless compassion.
Avian was an elf and an enemy of the Empire.
Therefore, she was my enemy as well. She was someone I shouldn't rashly sympathize with.
I knew that.
I knew it, but I couldn't help it lingering in my mind.
In the end, I decided to clear my head by swinging my sword.
I was someone who had repeated grueling training since childhood.
Naturally, the only way I knew how to improve my mood was by moving my body. To me, swinging a sword was both training and a hobby.
However, upon leaving my room, I was met by an unexpected guest.
"......Senior Ian."
It was a girl still wrapped in bandages in various places.
By now, I could recognize her identity just by looking at that gray hair. It was Seria, my cherished junior and the illegitimate daughter of the Yurdina family.
Before I could even offer a worried greeting—
"Could I ask for a lesson, just one bout?"
Seria bowed politely and made her request, and I couldn't help but pause for a moment.
Her eyes, resembling aquamarine, were filled with fighting spirit.
Thinking back, how long had it been since I last crossed swords with her?
I remembered being miserably defeated before. Although I managed to land a blow at the very end, the overall result had been my overwhelming loss.
What about now?
I couldn't suppress the fierce smile that began to form.
It wasn't the right expression to show a wounded junior, but I replied in a sharp voice.
"......Fine. Let's have a match."
It was perfect timing, as I was feeling restless anyway.
As a rule, there was no better way for a swordsman to wash their brain clean than through combat.