Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: A Strange Clingy Freeloader Stuck to My Supposedly Free Life
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"Hey. That's just how it works in your elf society. But I'm a human, not an elf."
Shura stared at me with wide, unblinking eyes.
"I'm a half-blood abandoned by wood elf society. So I'll do as I please."
"Hey! That's... "
"Master. Do I not please you?"
Of course she did. Shura was breathtakingly beautiful in a way no human woman could match. On top of that, I had a thing for female elves—my first love had been one, after all. Part of me wanted to pin her to the floor right then and there and unleash all my desires on her body.
"Come in."
"Then why refuse me?"
"Simple. A female elf like you would never betray me."
"Pardon?"
"Which means I might hesitate to send you into danger... or abandon you altogether."
In the era of ruin, I'd forced death upon countless subordinates. I'd sacrificed them to defend castles, ordered them to die to carve escape routes while they desperately clung to life. And in the final battle, I'd let over eighty thousand soldiers under my command perish—most of them elders, children, and women.
I hadn't hesitated for a second back then. No mercy at all. Why? Because I believed humans would betray me. That conviction let me demand their lives without a qualm.
Yeah, I love pretty women. But I have a hard line. The women I want are ones I can discard at any moment. That's the era of ruin for you—abandon others to survive. Hesitate even a second out of sentiment, and you're dead.
That's why female elves are off-limits. They never betray the man they love.
"Then send me into danger. Discard me again. I'll stake my life on it."
"That's why I'm saying no!"
"Just give the word, Master. I'll make sure I please you."
"It's not about that!"
"I'll handle that too."
This woman just wouldn't listen. I turned my back to her.
"I'm not the patient type. I'm telling you nicely—leave."
"I can't do that. I've already decided to follow you, Master. If you refuse me, kill me here."
Her stubbornness ignited my rage. Grimacing, I grabbed her collar and shoved her back against the wall.
"Do you know how many subordinates I've sent to their deaths? Tens of thousands! Do you have any idea how many more died because I turned my back? Hundreds of thousands, maybe millions! And now you want me to add a woman who adores me to that list...? Don't make me laugh!"
"Pardon?"
Shura gazed at me with utter incomprehension.
I barely calmed my trembling hands. She'd never witnessed or even heard of the war that destroyed humanity. No such cataclysm had ever scarred human history before. She could never understand me.
"I'm not your lifesaver. You surviving was pure coincidence. Like someone falling off a cliff who happens to grab a branch— that doesn't make the branch their savior. Got it?"
"You're no mere branch, Master."
I gritted my teeth and clamped her throat until she could barely breathe. Then I pressed my sword tip to her forehead.
"Last chance. Go."
"After my mother died, my tribe abandoned me. I was alone. If you won't take me in, Master, I'll end my weary life right here."
With that, Shura slowly closed her eyes.
My sword hand shook. Her word—"alone"—struck a chord. Truth be told, I was alone too.
Silence hung in the room for a moment. Feeling her ragged breaths, I spoke.
"You'll be discarded in the end. And in your dying moment, you'll regret today."
Shura's intense red eyes locked onto mine.
"I'll never resent you, Master."
"You will."
I yanked her waist toward me, pulling her into a fierce embrace. Her clothes soon tore away under my rough hands, pooling on the floor. Her exquisite naked form spilled onto the bed as I pushed her down.
A new day dawned. Waking in the village inn's bedroom, I sat at the desk, tallying our coin. A new expense had come to mind, so I was sorting some aside.
Just then, Shura emerged from the bathroom, her nude body wrapped only in a towel. She approached and draped her slender arms around my neck.
"Master."
Her gesture brimmed with deep affection. I planted a soft kiss on her pointed ear, then finished counting the rest.
"All clean?"
"Yes."
I slid the sorted gold coins her way. Exactly one hundred gold leaves.
"Take this and head to the Hall of Divinity once."
Shura's eyes widened slightly as she glanced at my reflection in the mirror opposite. Visiting the Hall meant challenging for ownership of a divine artifact.
"You want me to take the Guardian trial?"
"Yeah."
"But I..."
"Why?"
"I heard you need divine blessing and pure, untainted blood to become a Guardian."
I waved it off.
"Nah, it's random."
"Pardon?"
Exactly as I said. Aside from the Seven Divine Artifacts and a few others, the rest pick owners at random.
I learned that right around the start of the ruinous era. Back then, as a Guardian myself, I'd been drafted into recruiting for the Divine Artifact Legion, humanity's hope. And there, I saw something absurd: priests at the Divinum Temple handing out artifacts to applicants—without any selection process.
I asked an acquaintance among the priests, incredulous. He let slip that, excluding the Seven Divine Artifacts left by Saint Prosia's seven disciples and a couple others, the rest were fakes crafted by human artisans. The rituals to claim ownership in the Hall? Partly rigged, mostly random.
"Truth is, most artifacts are fakes slipped in by the church. The real deals are just the Seven Divine Artifacts and the top-tier Yin-Yang God's Sun-Moon Thousand Sword Dalahan—but that one only surfaced once, back in the dawn of civilization."
"And?"
"Kills business otherwise. One hundred gold leaves is steep even for nobles—they won't shell out for a zero-chance shot at the Hall. So the church pads the rest with extras."
Shura stared at me, dumbfounded.
"That's a scam, isn't it?"
"You could call it that. Or good business. And the Seven plus Dalahan? Definitely real."
I vouched for those. History backed the Seven as relics of Saint Prosia's seven Grand Saintesses. Dalahan never chose an owner even in the ruinous era.
Plus, records from its past emergence showed unimaginable power from the hands of Emperor Siegfried of the Yosrahim Empire—unlike other top-tiers.
That's why folks quietly hype Dalahan as 1.1-tier, rivaling the Seven.
"Ah, I see."
"So do as I say. Even a third-tier artifact packs top-grade magic gear power. Snagging one for a hundred gold? Bargain."
Shura hesitated. Random or not, the odds were abysmal. Hordes flocked yearly for ownership; successes averaged one second-tier every five years, twenty third-tiers annually.
"But isn't this just wasting coin...? No guarantee I'll be chosen, right?"
"There is."
I smirked faintly.
I hadn't just uncovered the fakes. I'd watched the priests closely and cracked how anyone could claim one.
"How?"
"Twist the essence node three and a half turns right, two and a half left. Press with your thumb, grip the hilt, infuse mana. It'll pick you. Heh."
"No way..."
"It works. Try it and see."
Shura floundered in shock. Land a third-tier? Instant saintly reverence. Via simple hack? Mind-blowing.
'That said, what about our Yojjo?'
My real worry was Yojjo. No essence node like the Seven or Dalahan—couldn't rig it.
But I knew its pick time. I'd entered it myself. Yojjo accepts the first visitor on opening day. Looked promising.
'Eh, it'll work out.'
My gaze drifted to Shura's shoulder line.
Not dried properly—tiny droplets trailed her skin. Driving me mad. Swallowing hard, I pulled her waist and shoved her onto the bed.
Shura tilted her head back to welcome me. Body still sore from last night, but ready for my lust anytime.
I ripped away her towel and dove in with blazing eyes, lost in endless passion once more.