Why? Who Is That? An Old Acquaintance?
Yoahim looked up at the dark elf standing atop the palisade. He was tall and solidly built. His left eye was closed, a long scar running over it. His face was sharp, and the way he kept flicking his tongue out reminded Yoahim of a snake. In a word, he had a sly, cunning look—but Yoahim sensed an aura from him that warned against underestimating him.
He's strong.
Not on the level of Haellagos's adjutants, but definitely a formidable opponent. It was obvious just from the level floating above his head.
Delly, the black mage he'd faced while searching for Kalsara's relic, had been level 73. Jalot was six levels lower, but still no one to take lightly.
"Hm? Who are you lot?"
Jalot noticed Sasha thanks to her voice. He glanced at her face once, then turned to Leon. Leon, meeting his gaze, widened his eyes just like Sasha and stammered incoherently, at a loss for words.
What the hell? What's going on?
Family they hadn't seen since parting ways? Yoahim glanced at Jalot, then at Leon and Sasha. They didn't look alike.
"No way... Leon? Sasha?"
Leon and Sasha nodded in unison at Jalot's words.
"Jalot... I never thought you'd still be alive. I figured the only survivors from our tribe were me and Sasha."
"I can't believe it... Sir Jalot, I'm so happy to see you again. Um, are there any other survivors besides you? Did you flee from the holy knights to the Withered Land too?"
The Withered Land was beyond the reach of the holy knights' power. And Haellagos had welcomed dark elves from all over the continent without discrimination, treating them all as his subjects. His rival, Alzahar, had probably done the same. In a war, you couldn't afford to turn away even a single soldier.
Yoahim didn't know the details, but Jalot had likely ended up here under similar circumstances.
Seems like he's from the same tribe as Leon and Sasha.
Otherwise, there'd be no reason for them to be so shocked. Yoahim decided to give them a moment for this tribal reunion amid the war. If he could persuade Jalot to switch sides, it would be a huge gain.
"Other survivors? Nah, none. Just me. You two... yeah, looks like you made it through even after your village was wiped out. Lucky bastards."
"No, it's not luck—it's a curse... We're the only ones left. No other survivors... You must be suffering too, Sir Jalot."
Sasha's shoulders slumped at the news, her voice weak and hollow.
Jalot scratched the bridge of his nose and replied, "Suffering? Me? Nah, not at all. Why would I be?"
"...What?"
Sasha tilted her head, as if she couldn't believe what she'd heard.
Leon, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "Jalot, I'm glad to see you again. But... it's weird that you're alive. The holy knights are brutal—they slaughter everyone without mercy and burn the villages to eliminate any possible survivors."
"Oh, Leon."
Jalot chuckled, flicking his tongue slyly. His eyes narrowed into slits, looking every bit the cunning serpent.
"You're suspicious of me, huh."
"Yeah. It's just too fishy, no matter how I look at it. You're strong, but not strong enough to survive the holy knights. Even our tribe's greatest warrior died a gruesome death. And you? You're alive?"
At the dismissive tone, Jalot's eyes flashed with anger before he forced a grin. "Unlike Sasha, you always did look down on me. Sharp as ever—that's why I waited until you were gone."
"W-wait a second, Sir Jalot! What do you...?"
Jalot shot Sasha a cold smile. "Still don't get it, Sasha? Sweet, innocent, and oh-so-dumb Sasha. You never suspect a thing. That's why you fail. Why you get screwed over."
"What the hell is this...?"
"No point hiding it now, so I'll spell it out. Sasha, I was the one who told the holy knights where our tribe was. Why? Because I wanted out—into the wider world. I've got talent, ambition. Why rot in that cramped tribe?"
Sasha stared blankly at him. The story was too much to process. Or rather, too much to accept.
"Sure, converting lets you live among humans. But the stigma of being a dark elf sticks. No high positions for you then."
"So you betrayed us? Sold out our location for human trust?"
Jalot nodded with a laugh. "Spot on as always, Leon. Yeah, I gave them our position and got a recommendation for the guard in return. But..."
"They screwed you over, obviously. That's why you're holed up here."
Leon's mocking sneer made Jalot's cheek twitch. He plastered on a fake smile. "...Yeah. Those damn holy knight bastards said a traitor once is a traitor twice. Why trust a guy like that with anything? They mocked me and left this scar on my eye. Said they'd spare my life, so get lost."
His voice dripped with misery and rage. Jalot ground his teeth and clenched his fist.
"I wandered everywhere before settling here. Then I met Lord Alzahar. He's the true grand lord of the Withered Land, the rightful apostle of Kalsara! I swore to fight for him until my dying breath."
"Sir Jalot... no, Jalot... I can't believe it. You betrayed our tribe? For your own gain?"
Sasha trembled with fury. She could hardly accept that the one who doomed her tribe was a fellow tribesman. But it was the truth.
"Hmph, Sasha. You know nothing. Standing still just gets you culled eventually. Our tribe would've fallen even without me—it was just a matter of time, not if."
"How dare you... How dare a traitor like you spout that bullshit...!"
"Hahaha! Pissed off? Then kill me! If you can! You haven't forgotten who taught you swordsmanship and archery, right? Think you can beat me? Kekeke, go ahead, squirm! It won't change the outco—"
Shing!
Something sliced through the air toward Jalot. Mid-rant, he reflexively swung his sword to deflect it. The compacted mana dispersed in the air with a crack.
"What the—?!"
Jalot whipped his head around irritably and spotted Yoahim pointing a finger at him. He scowled.
"...You did that?"
"Who else? Sorry, but cut the bullshit. That crap you're spewing is straight-up insane."
"What?"
"Deaf? I said your bullshit is insane, you fucking moron."
"Who the hell are you? Some random bonehead mouthing off."
"If I'm a bonehead, what does that make you? A dog getting horny over bones? Pissed? Come bite me. Drop the ego already."
Jalot's cheek twitched as he swung his sword wide, pointing it at Yoahim. Just the swing stirred the wind with a whoosh.
Yoahim grinned at the sword tip aimed his way.
"Told you—drop the ego and come at me."
"...Was planning to anyway. Everyone, battle stations!"
Jalot snorted and leaped down from the palisade. The other dark elves followed suit. Yoahim rolled his neck, preparing for the imminent fight, when Sasha and Leon rode up close.
"Apostle, you don't have to."
"Yeah, Apostle. Let us handle this traitor. Just focus on the battle."
Leon and Sasha stared at Yoahim with hardened expressions—fury at Jalot, but worry for him too. They knew how strong Jalot was. He'd taught them sword and bow back in the village.
This was a dark elf matter, for dark elves to settle. They didn't want Yoahim getting hurt over it.
"Nah, can't do that."
But Yoahim shook his head, even knowing their concern.
"That asshole's mocking my friends—I can't just sit here. I'm Kalsara's apostle, after all."
He smiled, but Sasha's face stayed stiff. She always fretted over his safety—sweet girl, except when anger flipped her switch. Yoahim saw it as her strength, but Jalot had mocked it.
"Apostle, if you're set on fighting, I won't stop you. But don't die. If you do, I'll kill you myself."
Why kill me...?
Yoahim chuckled and nodded. "No worries. I've got shit to do—can't die here."
Not like I can die unjustly here anyway.
Yoahim pulled Ha Meks Han and the oak staff from his inventory.
"All units, battle ready!"
His booming command sent the undead legion into motion. They awaited only his word—no fear, no hesitation.
Yoahim swung the staff overhead and roared.
"Charge!"
The undead horde surged forward. At the same moment, Jalot ordered his men to attack, and skeleton archers atop the palisade nocked arrows.
As the taut bowstrings prepared to loose—
Kwaaaang!
The palisade crumbled amid roiling flames. Skeletons shattered, twitching on the ground.
Yoahim swung the staff again. "Push in!"
The sturdy village defenses, like a fortress, had been breached by powerful magic. His forces exploited the gap, flooding inside.
"Tougher than he looks."
As the tide turned, Jalot stepped up personally to face Yoahim.
"Come on. I'll handle you myself. You didn't yap all that just to hide behind your minions, right?"
Childish taunt, but Yoahim didn't ignore it. He'd already decided to kill Jalot with his own hands.
Two reasons: First, Jalot insulted Leon and Sasha. Second, he'd drop a ton of EXP.
"Before we fight, let's exchange names. Gotta know who killed you, right? Less resentment that way."
Yoahim stared silently. Jalot brushed it off with a laugh.
"You've probably heard—I'm Jalot. Once drillmaster of the Black Root tribe. Now of Levia Castle. Your turn. What's your n—"
Kwaaaang!
Fierce flames engulfed Jalot. He sensed the heat and leaped back, barely escaping incineration.
"Hey! You bastard! I'm talking! What the fuck?!"
"Tch, missed."
Yoahim shook his head with a grin.
"Who am I?"
His ring gleamed.
"Why does the guy about to die need to know?"