Chapter 60
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 60
Chapter Title: Lord of the Territory
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Tweet tweet.
Quiet bird sounds.
Back when I lived in the Elf Kingdom, it was a sound that always drifted in just before I opened my eyes—a fitting prelude for a place so in tune with nature.
Like an alarm clock, signaling the start of the day.
But it wasn't particularly welcome to me.
Morning arriving meant a new day dawning, which in turn meant that I, a deficient high elf, had to slog through yet another tediously long day.
Under the blue sky, in the Elf Forest said to be blessed by the elves themselves, I was always alone.
Even the chattering birds eventually flew off one by one, leaving me in that empty space where I just wanted to keep my eyes shut as long as possible.
I wanted to linger in a time when nothing had to begin.
But.
Now I think there's no need for that anymore.
Because—
"Awake?"
A low, familiar voice.
"...Yes, Master."
I opened my eyes to find someone gazing down at me.
Now, even when morning comes, I'm not alone.
"Was I... asleep?"
"Yeah. Right after the Proxy Blood Fate ended, just after you took down Elcia, you pretty much collapsed."
"What about the match?"
"Obviously, it was your win, Aira."
Those words eased the tension from my chest a little.
The finale of the Proxy Blood Fate.
When I faced Apollo—the ultimate technique of the high elves dubbed their secret art—I didn't hesitate.
I simply grabbed it.
My body moved first, and my thoughts followed after.
The sensation of my hand burning away was still vivid.
Even so, I didn't unleash that power—the pain I endured—on Elcia.
'...Why not?'
My sister, who had tormented me relentlessly since childhood.
The things she'd done to me were countless.
To my body, and to my heart.
Yet I didn't pay her back in kind.
If I crushed my weakened family the same way, I'd end up no different from them in the past.
More than that, I already knew.
I was stronger—no need to prove it anymore.
Now, I was definitely stronger than Elcia.
I already held the power to prove myself, not through words like "useful high elf" or whatever.
So I didn't kill her.
I just left her with humiliation. That felt sufficient.
That was my way of proving who I am now.
And as if reading my mind.
Pat pat.
A gentle hand descended carefully onto my head.
"You did well at the end."
Lucas's voice was low and soft.
"No need to stain your hands with filthy blood."
"...Lucas."
"Aira, I'm proud of you."
With those words, something deep inside my chest quietly crumbled away.
Since childhood, I'd always longed for praise like that from someone.
Without conditions, without calculations.
But words I'd never once received.
That touch, those words—they were so precious that tears fell in an instant, plop—
I wasn't even trying to hold them back, but they wouldn't stop.
Like everything I'd bottled up until now was spilling out all at once.
But that was okay.
Now, there was someone by my side for whom it was okay to cry.
"Come to think of it... I've got a lot of bandages wrapped around me."
"Yeah. Even with a near-superhuman body, wounds that have already opened don't heal on their own. I took care of all of them while you were out."
Lucas spoke matter-of-factly.
Three days had already passed since the Proxy Blood Fate.
The one who cared for me while I lay unconscious all that time was, ultimately, my Master.
At first, people from the Argent Family tried to take me away, insisting they'd nurse me with utmost care.
But Master refused firmly.
Because Walter Argent's uncomfortable gaze still lingered there.
So for those three days, Master stayed by my side personally.
He fixed my torn muscles with compression bandages, applied some ointment to my mana burns, then wrapped layer after layer to keep my body heat from escaping.
The residual wounds around my hands, feet, and face from the invisible arrows—even the insides of my joints and the paths mana had coursed through—he checked every one meticulously.
Delicate areas like under my armpits, inner thighs, and near my groin were no exception.
But there was no hesitation in his touch, no gaze laden with meaning.
Just inspecting the wounds, disinfecting them, and wrapping bandages as needed.
Pure treatment.
Even knowing that, as I sat up in bed, my fingertips instinctively brushed the bandage between my thighs.
It was tied firmly, but not too tight.
In that moment, heat rushed to my face.
Not quite shame—strangely, it felt more like relief.
The fact that he hadn't looked at me that way, that he'd simply worried for me.
So this warmth... I didn't dislike it at all.
If anything, a faint, joyful smile slipped out on its own.
"The Elf Kingdom... they've left, then?"
"Yeah. I figured I'd tell you about that once you woke up."
Three days ago.
Right after the Proxy Blood Fate ended, the spectator stands overlooking the dueling arena were silent—not even a breath could be heard.
"Frozen" didn't even begin to cover it.
No one could properly comprehend what had just unfolded before their eyes, leaving them rooted in place.
The outcome was clear.
Elcia's defeat.
And Aira's overwhelming victory.
Apollo—the high elves' final secret technique, said to always strike true and erase all it touched, the arrow of the gods.
She caught it, threw it back, and drove it into the ground.
If that strike had aimed for her sister's groin where she knelt—instead of veering off—Elcia wouldn't have left even a trace.
Yet Aira altered its path at the last moment.
She didn't kill her.
Less "spared" and more "left unable to stand."
Those who grasped the meaning of that choice said nothing.
The high elves of the Elf Kingdom.
The heirs of the Argent bloodline.
All of them knew they had no right to speak of mercy here.
And so.
Once both were ruled combat-ineffective, the horn signaling the duel’s end blared across the arena.
That was the moment.
"Kill... her."
A low, rasping voice.
"Your Highness?"
"What are you fools doing?!"
From the center of the spectator stands, Erdas shot to his feet.
"Pour arrows into that 'demon' wearing my daughter's face—now!!"
His face held neither rage nor paternal anguish.
Only the wariness of one who had misread the board.
The instinctive fear of someone who had already faced a superior being once before.
Long ago, in the Elf Forest, the day that force had brought him—a self-proclaimed god—to his knees.
A memory he'd convinced himself was forgotten surged back vividly now.
Cold sweat trickled down his temples, his breath growing ragged against his will.
No kingly poise or ruler's intimidation remained on his face.
Only one thing left.
The beast's instinct, knowing that if it didn't strike first before the hunt began, death was certain.
"Y-You're telling us to shoot Princess Aira?"
"Right... here?"
A brief stir.
Gazes darted quickly among the elf archers.
"But... is that really okay?"
In that instant, a cracked voice rang out from above the stands.
"I permit it!"
Unyielding.
"So fire!"
At the king's command, the royal guards mixed in the stands froze for a moment.
This wasn't the Elf Forest.
This was Argent territory.
But an order was an order.
The elf archers gritted their teeth and nocked their bows.
Screams erupted as killing intent prepared to rain down on the arena's center.
Right then.
"What... is this?"
A low but clear voice.
Someone leaped into the arena.
Lucas, carrying Aira on his back.
And beside him, Piel holding up a shield condensed from light.
They were in position just before the arrows flew.
But something came first.
The air... snapped taut.
An overwhelming presence crushed down on the arena.
Agram Argent, head of the family.
His gaze brushed past Erdas, then shifted to the elf archers above, now armed.
"How dare you."
Just one word.
"Draw weapons in Argent territory without my permission."
His voice was colder than anger.
"Are you mocking me?"
The royal guards flinched.
"Such insolence! Agram! Do you not know before whom you stand?!"
Erdas bellowed.
"Of course I do."
He didn't turn his head.
"King Erdas of the Elf Forest, ruler of the continent's west."
Only then did their eyes meet.
"Knowing that, and still this attitude—"
"But."
The word cut him off.
The atmosphere split.
"That's one thing. This is another."
Slowly, but unmistakably.
"Is this inside the Elf Forest?"
Erdas's mouth clamped shut.
"No."
Not a hint of waver in his voice.
"This is Argent territory."
His hand rose.
Sweeping over the entire arena.
"And here, anyone arming themselves without my leave—not even the Emperor of the Abellan Empire—is exempt."
Silence.
In that moment, who ruled this place became crystal clear.