Chapter 160: Why Is He So Strong? (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 160: Why Is He So Strong? (4)
Alon had expected Elivan to be stronger than the original story dictated.
When Uultultus first appeared in the North, Alon had met Elivan years earlier than scheduled and provided him with various items to ensure he could grow in a stable environment.
Since the items Alon handed over were rare treasures that couldn't be easily obtained, it was only natural that Elivan’s growth would be well above average.
However—
‘...No matter how I look at it, he doesn’t seem like a Level 10.’
His martial prowess far exceeded Alon's wildest imagination.
Alon glanced down at the crumpled heaps of Living Armor lying before Elivan.
Living Armor was a notoriously tedious monster for warriors to deal with, even if mages or priests found them manageable.
First of all, their nature was such that they wouldn't stop moving just because their armor was slightly dented. One had to completely shatter the suit of armor that served as their body to stop them.
Because of this, most players who raised Elivan as a warrior character would usually let Yan handle the combat in the Iron Blood Fortress while using other characters to tank the hits.
That was how the battle was supposed to go.
Yet, Elivan had single-handedly pulverized that many Living Armors.
"Ah."
Elivan let out a low exclamation, as if only just realizing what he’d done.
Alon naturally began to estimate his level.
‘...Level 30? No, if he can blow away hundreds in a single strike, maybe 40? ...Given Elivan’s innate talent and the blessings he received in the lore, that seems plausible. He probably hasn't reached Sword Master yet, so Level 50... might be a stretch.’
While Alon was deep in thought, Elivan, who had dashed out like an arrow, returned with his characteristic "Ahaha" laugh.
"Are, are you alright?"
"I am fine."
"That’s a relief."
"...You are strong. At this rate—did you even need my support?"
When Alon asked while pointing at the shattered Living Armors, Elivan scratched his head.
"Well, I was told it would be dangerous."
"...To prepare for any eventuality, then?"
"Yes, yes, exactly! Ahem—anyway, let’s keep moving...!"
Without giving Alon a chance to say more, Elivan immediately began forging a path through the remains of the Living Armors.
"...Hmm."
Alon’s expression turned peculiar. There was something that didn't quite sit right.
‘...If he’s that strong, he shouldn't have been that anxious.’
It would be one thing if Elivan had a "safety-first" personality—the type to tap on a stone bridge before crossing—but he had never shown such a side before.
After a moment of deliberation, Alon decided to follow him for now. Regardless of Elivan's strength, Alon had his own business in the Iron Blood Fortress.
Then, noticing that Elivan’s companions were standing frozen in place, Alon turned his gaze toward them.
"?"
He couldn't help but feel puzzled once again. Every single member of Elivan’s party—
‘...They look very, very surprised.’
Their mouths were hanging open as if their jaws were about to hit the floor.
* * *
There is much to be gained inside a Strange Gate.
The lore simply explained that they appeared because the Five Great Sins were involved, but in the game, Strange Gates were the primary source of weapons and artifacts for the player—Elivan’s party.
In particular, the Iron Blood Fortress they were currently in contained many items useful for Elivan, who had started as a warrior, though obtaining them usually required a fair amount of grinding.
Unless a player went to Lartania to grind levels immediately after starting the game, the protagonist’s level by the time they reached the Iron Blood Fortress was usually around 10. At that level, one couldn't easily hunt Living Armor.
Players were forced to carefully lure the Living Armors roaming the fortress into rooms one by one to take them down.
...Of course, that was no longer necessary now.
"Hmm..."
Alon scanned the corridors of the Iron Blood Fortress, which they had been exploring for several hours.
Scattered throughout the hallway were things that used to be Living Armor. The remains were so gruesome it looked less like they had been cut by a sword and more like they had been smashed with a sledgehammer.
Alon watched the scene in silence before turning his gaze toward Elivan.
The man let out another awkward laugh, just as he had been doing all along.
Evan, standing beside Alon, whispered quietly.
"My Lord."
"Speak."
"...To be honest, it doesn't look like he needs any help at all, does it?"
"I was thinking the same."
Although Alon had come along because Elivan asked for help, he hadn't used a single spell since entering the Iron Blood Fortress.
No, to be precise, he tried to use magic.
But every time he attempted to cast—
'My Lord! Are you alright!'
'My Lord! Are you hurt anywhere!?'
'My Lord!'
—Elivan would come charging in like a bolt of lightning and smash every Living Armor to bits. It was as if he were overprotecting a small child near a dangerous river.
"..."
Naturally, this was a bit problematic for Alon. Since there were items he wanted from the Iron Blood Fortress, he needed to contribute to the party to some extent.
Elivan’s companions were one thing since they were part of his group, but Alon felt he needed to do his part so he wouldn't feel guilty when it came time to claim an artifact later.
‘...Does he want to monopolize everything himself?’
The suspicion crossed Alon's mind for a moment, but he quickly shook his head. Neither Elivan’s lore nor his actual behavior suggested such a personality. If anything, he had the personality of a classic, righteous protagonist—almost out of place in a dark fantasy world.
"My Lord, are you alright?"
Before he knew it, Elivan had approached Alon once again. Alon, finishing his thoughts, replied.
"...You do not need to worry so much. As you can see, I haven't taken any damage."
"I see that."
"By the way, you don't have to handle everything alone. I have the power to deal with enemies of that caliber as well."
"Ah, yes. I understand. It’s just—it’s a bit of a habit, so it’s hard to restrain myself."
"A habit?"
"Yes, I just get worried."
Only then did the situation start to make a bit of sense.
‘He can't stand to see his comrades get hurt, is that it?’
Knowing Elivan’s personality, it seemed plausible. Alon nodded, but then—
A sudden thought made him curious.
"If that's the case, your companions seemed quite shocked watching you."
Extremely shocked, in fact.
Elivan seemed to deliberate for a moment before scratching his cheek with a troubled look.
"Actually—I’ve been pretending to be a bit weaker than I am on purpose."
"...Pretending to be weak?"
"Yes. The Goddess advised me that my companions need to grow as well."
"Ah."
"So they were probably surprised. It’s the first time I’ve shown my true strength."
"I see."
"Yes. In this case, because of that army at the beginning, I think I..."
"Revealed a bit too much of your power?"
"Yes, exactly."
Alon nodded once more. Now he understood why Elivan's companions had been so stunned earlier.
"That’s why I’m always grateful to you, My Lord. It’s thanks to the things you provided back then that I was able to become this strong."
"I am glad they were of help."
Seeing that Elivan had achieved even greater growth than expected, Alon felt a sense of pride.
"But you can afford to be more relaxed. I do not require such excessive protection."
"I’ll keep that in mind!"
It was a spirited response.
‘...Well, even so, the only monster left is the boss.’
They had already reached the final stage of the battle. And against a boss monster—
‘I should at least be able to use some magic.’
With that expectation, Alon began to walk through the interior of the fortress, which was faintly tinged by the violet sky.
Soon, the group reached the end.
What they faced was—
Rumble—!
An ink-black knight.
Unlike the other Living Armors, which were just floating pieces of armor, pauldrons, and swords, this entity was encased in pitch-black plate armor from head to toe. It rose from its seat as if welcoming the intruders and—
Whoosh—!
Swung a massive greatsword in a wide arc. Its ink-black coat fluttered simultaneously.
‘Concan, the Iron Blood Seat.’
The moment Alon saw the creature, he began to form a seal. Given the nature of Living Armor, it would start charging madly at the first target to initiate an attack.
In that tense moment—
"My Lord—!"
CRUNCH!
Elivan lunged forward like a bullet and smashed the creature’s head to pieces.
"Ah."
"Ah."
A low exclamation escaped simultaneously from Alon, who had been robbed of his chance(?), and Elivan, who seemed to realize his mistake immediately.
* * *
Phildegrin, the kingdom built upon the land of the elves, Greinif.
A report was delivered to Queen Magrina, who ruled the realm.
"...You say the things rising from the roots are increasing in number?"
"Yes. Their momentum has become quite unusual lately."
"Is it a number that Pagade finds difficult to hold back?"
"No, it hasn't reached that point yet."
A look of concern clouded the face of the knight from the secret society, Pagade, who was delivering the report.
"But as you know, this is a change in something that hasn't shifted for nearly a thousand years. We are fine for now, but there is no telling what kind of situation may arise in the future."
A brief silence followed.
"I understand. For now, please continue to monitor the situation closely."
"I shall obey your command."
"I commend you for your hard work."
As Magrina dismissed the knight and fell into deep thought, a visitor arrived.
"O Queen. Perion and Philde have arrived."
"...Let them in."
She set aside her worries for a moment to greet her guests.
"We greet the Queen."
"We greet the Queen."
"...Welcome, Philde, Perion. However, your complexions do not look well. Did something happen?"
Had something occurred at the Palatio Earldom? Philde’s color was particularly poor.
"It is alright, Your Majesty. More importantly, there is something we must tell you."
"...Did you go to confirm the identity of Count Palatio?"
"Yes."
"And? How was he?"
Magrina didn't seem to realize it herself, but Philde noticed her hands clenching into slight fists.
"..."
After a long silence, Philde slowly spoke.
"First, there is something I must clarify."
"What is it?"
"What I am about to tell you is largely based on speculation. I did not actually have a conversation with Count Palatio."
"...I see. So he was not the Primordial Elf after all."
Her voice carried a hint of disappointment. However, Philde shook her head firmly.
"No."
"...What?"
"Yes. In my opinion, Count Palatio is the Primordial Elf. Which means—"
Philde clenched her own fists tight, just as Magrina had.
"I believe there is a high probability that he is Your Majesty’s elder brother."
"What... did you say?"
At the solemn declaration, devoid of even a trace of a smile, the Queen’s eyes widened limitlessly.