83. The Puppet Lord of Shinchon
Whoosh!
An enormous blaze filled the underground space.
No natural fire could possess such ferocity.
It was the flames Zeon had unleashed.
The superheated inferno consumed everything below ground.
The corpses of Croker and his crocodiles, Goran and Eiba, even the bodies that had supplied their blood—nothing escaped, all reduced to ash.
The underground chamber, swept clean by the raging fire, was utterly barren.
"You're really human, right?"
Briel stared at Zeon with a look of utter dismay.
A Sand Mage who wielded fire magic as well.
Dual awakeners were virtually nonexistent even in the elven world.
There were occasional cases of those who awakened two abilities, but typically one dominated while the other served only as support.
Zeon was the first awakener she knew who handled both with such effortless mastery.
Zeon furrowed his brow slightly as he glanced at her.
"Let's go!"
"We're leaving?"
"You wanna stick around?"
"No, let's get out."
Briel shook her head and pressed close to Zeon's side.
She had been trapped in this lightless hell for over a year.
The mere thought of sunlight again sent a thrill through her.
With Briel clinging like an extra weight, Zeon trudged through the underground passage.
"Huff... huff! W-wait a sec..."
But she didn't last long before halting, her face drained white, staggering as if she might collapse any moment.
Zeon turned. "What?"
"Fuck! D-drugs... drugs..."
Briel fumbled desperately in her pockets and pulled out a few pills.
Zeon's eyes turned ice-cold in an instant.
"Narcotics?"
"N-no! Awakening agents!"
She swallowed the pills in a hurry.
Color returned to her face almost immediately.
"Hah... hah... That was close. I'm saved."
"An elf on awakening drugs? A High Elf, no less?"
"Fuck! You think I want to take this shit? It's all you humans' fault!"
"What're you talking about?"
"You think my body stayed normal, forcing me to churn out drugs nonstop with no protection or gear?"
Under the crocodiles' watch, compelled to produce narcotics endlessly, her body had inevitably become tainted and ruined.
She couldn't survive a day without them, her health so fragile she might drop dead tomorrow.
In the end, to stay alive, she'd secretly brewed alternatives—awakening agents and supplements.
They'd halted further deterioration from the narcotics, but now she was hooked on these new crutches instead.
That was why she hated humans.
Her pure elven blood corrupted to this degree—it was righteous fury toward those responsible.
At least, that's how Briel saw it.
"Rely on that crap too much, and you'll croak screaming one day."
"Hmph! Spare me the fake concern, you damn human..."
"Any way to kick the habit?"
"Hell if I know! I'll figure it out before I die."
"Best of luck, then."
"Human pity's worth shit."
"You're the one who chose to follow this human."
"Fuck!"
"Feeling better? Let's move."
Zeon started walking again.
Briel glared daggers at his back for a moment before scurrying after him.
After a long trek, a door to the outside finally appeared.
The blinding light pouring through the open doorway made Briel squint.
Prolonged confinement had weakened even her eyes.
Stepping out like this might scorch her retinas.
She pulled her conical hat low over her face.
Zeon took her hand. She flinched in surprise.
"Can't follow without holding on."
"Tch!"
Briel pouted at his words but didn't pull away.
She knew he was right—no other option.
Hand in hand, Zeon and Briel walked side by side down the street.
The hot wind laced with sand, the clamor of voices, the intense sunlight soaking into their skin.
Briel trembled faintly at these external stimuli after a year away.
She had longed for this sensation so desperately.
Tears trickled down her cheek.
She bowed her head deeply to hide them from Zeon.
As Briel fell silent, Zeon said nothing.
They walked the street in quiet.
Shinchon, reached after a lengthy hike, had returned to daily bustle as if the chain explosions never happened.
The dead were tragic, but the living had to carry on.
Even if the streets turned to hell again today and bodies piled up, the market would reopen tomorrow.
"Huh?"
"Z-Zeon..."
A few recognized him, shock blooming on their faces.
Everyone knew of Goran and Zeon's clash.
The devastation it wrought—impossible not to know.
But the survivor was Zeon, not Goran.
A fight to the death, and Zeon's return meant he was the victor.
No one in these streets was ignorant of that.
"Zeon really won?"
"My god!"
"Does that mean the slum's boss changed?"
Their agitation rippled straight to Zeon.
They hoped for some word from him, but he passed indifferently, entering the building housing his home.
"Huff... huff!"
By the eighteenth floor, Briel's face had paled again.
Panting raggedly, she fished out more awakening agents and downed them.
Thanks to the drugs, she barely made it.
"Hah... hah! Fuck! My heart's gonna burst."
She leaned against the wall, gasping.
"Here."
Zeon opened his door.
Briel stepped in without expectations, only to freeze in shock at the pristine interior.
"What? Why's it so clean? And a barrier?"
Her eyes widened, scanning the room.
As a High Elf, the barrier enveloping Zeon's home was crystal clear to her.
Not even her homeland had barriers this intricate.
"That's a mana generator? What's that gem on top? The barrier core?"
Spotting the Watching Eye, Briel shuddered.
True to the saying, knowledge reveals more.
Her expertise let her grasp just how extraordinary it was.
"What the hell are you, really? Human? Or a dragon polymorphed?"
"You know about dragons?"
"Joking? Who doesn't?"
"Ever seen one?"
"Of course not."
Briel hung her head.
No young elf like her would have.
Few dragons had crossed into this world, and they lurked in unreachable depths, far from prying eyes.
They weren't foolish enough to expose themselves to children.
Dragons were savagely ferocious, insidious, and cruel beyond imagination.
Had Briel encountered one, she wouldn't be standing here as an elf of this world.
She looked up at Zeon.
"So, I live here from now on?"
"For the time being."
"Yay!"
Briel leaped toward the bed.
During her drug-making days underground, a warm bed was what she'd missed most—hence her beeline for it.
But she didn't get her wish.
Zeon had grabbed her by the scruff.
"That's not your spot."
"Then where do I sleep?"
Zeon nodded toward the sofa instead of answering.
"The sofa? For a lady? That's harsh!"
"One: You're no lady. Two: Bed's mine. Three!"
"There's a three?"
"Yeah. Three: My call."
"Ugh!"
"So no eyeing my bed. Sofa it is. And that's generous."
"Grr!"
Briel ground her teeth, glaring, tears welling in her eyes—but Zeon didn't budge.
Defeated, she shuffled to the sofa. The moment she lay down, though, she beamed wide.
"Whoa! So soft. So comfy!"
Plumper and cozier than expected.
She flailed her limbs gleefully for a while before promptly drifting into deep sleep.
Snore... snore...
Listening to her steady breaths in the quiet, Zeon pondered.
A High Elf's soul oath...
The oath's bond linked him and Briel.
Forcing it apart was impossible.
Since she'd sworn loyalty, he now bore the duty to protect her.
An unexpected burden attached.
To break the oath, do I need to find the High Elf village?
Come to think of it, he hadn't asked where her village was or how many survived.
He'd inquire when she woke.
But first, one task remained.
Leaving the soundly sleeping Briel, Zeon stepped out.
His destination: Goran's establishments.
Near the ruined arena, Goran's businesses dotted the area.
Zeon entered the brothel where the prostitutes gathered.
They saw him enter but none barred his way.
They knew.
The street's ruler had changed today.
No will to resist the new one.
An older-looking prostitute stepped forward.
"Welcome."
"You know me."
"In a place like this, ignorance means death in a day. Of course I know you."
"Makes this easy, then. Where's Iton?"
"Pardon?"
"Don't make me repeat. Tell me where Iton is."
"I'll show you."
She led him to Eiba's room.
There, Iton lay recovering.
"You?"
Iton bolted upright at the sight of Zeon.
His wounds from Zeon still unhealed, even sitting strained him. But he forced it.
Couldn't just sit and take it.
"What of Lord Goran? Don't tell me you..."
"Goran, Eiba, that Ta-o guy—all dead by my hand."
"Impossible...!"
"Believe it or not, you're the last of Goran's followers still breathing."
Iton's face went ashen.
If true, Goran's faction was obliterated.
Zeon told him, "You've got two choices left. One: Fight to the end and die."
"And the other?"
"Obviously."
"What is it?"
"Take Goran's place as Shinchon's ruler."
"Pardon? What..."
Iton blinked, failing to process.
Logically, Zeon—the victor over Goran—should rule Shinchon.
"Why me and not you...?"
"Status quo suits me fine. If you pass, I'll prop up someone else."
"N-no, I'll do it. Shinchon's ruler—I'll take it."
Iton spoke hastily.
Greed now lit his features.
He'd served under Goran only because the man was an insurmountable peak. He had ambitions too.
Knowing this chance wouldn't come twice, he seized it without hesitation.
Eiba's death—his lover—meant nothing.
Replacements abounded.
Zeon said, "One promise, and Shinchon's yours."
"What?"
Iton stared with eyes burning of desire.
Zeon's answer was simple.
"Don't bother me."