Chapter 185
Chapter 185
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 185
Chapter Title: The Road to Sampyo (9)
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***
The World Tree was just a big tree.
That single phrase, written in the blood and tears of all the elves in this world, echoed as Demerond Ip Marx laid bare his true intent into the empty air.
Cold hatred crushed the space, and the air held its breath.
Even the wind avoided him as Demerond gauged Yeomyeong's reaction.
From his experience, Earthlings confronted with his true intent fell into one of two broad attitudes.
Hypocritical sympathy, or vague fear.
But Yeomyeong's reaction was neither. He merely shrank back a little, showing no other change.
No, there was one clear difference.
Eyes that had sunk into icy calm.
Those golden pupils were carefully measuring Demerond's true intent. Like a hunter facing a beast, lowering his body and nocking an arrow.
"…He's wondering how to fight."
Arrogant, but an attitude he liked.
At least a hundred times better than the pathetic sympathy from the Holy Sword or Maker.
Demerond smirked and withdrew his true intent.
Perhaps it had left quite an impression, as Yeomyeong fell silent for a while. Then, after a moment, he cautiously spoke up.
"…Can you turn any emotion into true intent? Say, something like revenge."
"…"
Revenge. At that blunt word, Demerond made a strange face.
"Possible. If that emotion binds your entire life."
"…"
"But… well, it's funny coming from me, but it's best to avoid making emotions into true intent."
Why? Before Yeomyeong could ask, Demerond answered first.
"For the same reason most people don't make emotions their life's goal."
"…"
"This might take a while. Care to sit?"
With that, Demerond leaned against the tree and sat on the ground. Yeomyeong obediently approached and sat on the dirt in front of him.
As the stars peeked out, the elf opened his mouth.
"Cheon Yeomyeong, how much do you know about the war America waged against our kind?"
"…As much as is written in the history books."
The US-Elf War.
A war that broke out when America attacked the elf forest under pretexts like the "Forest Residents Liberation Movement" or "Second Western Expansion."
Stripping away the meaningless pretexts and propaganda, the war's cause wasn't much different from other wars in human history.
Wealth and resources.
Eight out of ten spirit medicines beyond the dimensional gates slumbered in the forest held by the elves, and America wanted to monopolize them.
Just as Stalin monopolized the mana metal in the Dwarf Mountains.
But the elves were different from the dwarves.
Unlike the dwarves who gathered in the mountains, the elf forest was vast, and they were born guerrillas.
The elves used the forest as a shield to hunt the US military, forest residents, and heart mages. And not content with that, they crossed through the dimensional gate to assassinate key American figures.
Of course, such fierce resistance only invited an even fiercer war.
Defoliants and napalm blanketing the forest, massacres, and… nuclear bombs.
Yeomyeong, recalling the photo of the burning World Tree, fell silent.
Come to think of it, the knowledge he had was all recorded from human and Earthling perspectives—biased accounts.
At best, from textbooks and documentaries.
From the perspective of an elf and direct participant in the war like Demerond, it might feel unpleasant.
Having thought that far, Yeomyeong glanced at the elf's face…
But Demerond seemed caught on different words.
"History books? You learned about elves from history books?"
When Yeomyeong nodded yes, Demerond immediately shot back.
"You're around the same age as the Saintess, right?"
"Yes, just a few years apart."
Just a few years. Demerond covered his mouth and let out a hollow laugh.
"Well… to humans, a few decades is plenty of time to dismiss their own sins as mere history."
Muttering that, Demerond stared at Yeomyeong, then smirked.
"Ah well, no blame. Not your fault you were born human… Back to the point."
Demerond licked his dry lips and continued in a serious tone.
"Anyway, if you know our history, you can understand why I harbor this hatred, right? But no matter how much you know… my hatred goes beyond that."
"…"
"If I hadn't suppressed it as true intent, I wouldn't have been able to control it myself."
Yeomyeong was convinced it wasn't empty words.
The elf's hatred that had pricked his skin moments ago was as terrifying as Juga Shibili Style's killing intent.
Soon, Demerond stared straight into his eyes and asked.
"Cheon Yeomyeong, is your revenge at that level? Enough to bind all your will and life's purpose to that one emotion?"
"That's…"
"How about this? Innocent people… say, those girls by your side. Could you torture or sacrifice them for revenge?"
Yeomyeong couldn't answer. Demerond looked up at the night sky and said.
"I could."
"…"
"If it meant killing Americans, I could do anything. Defy my mother's dying wish, kill my own kind, even abandon my wife…"
The stars gazing down from the sky said nothing. Without criticism or condemnation, they simply listened quietly to Demerond.
"All foolish mistakes… Ah, damn, too embarrassing to go on. Cheon Yeomyeong, do you know why I'm telling you this?"
"…Because of Shoy-mi, no, Miridis's friend? Not sure exactly."
"Honestly, you seem pretty precarious yourself."
"…"
Precarious? Yeomyeong started to deny it, then realized he hadn't chosen between Seti and revenge, and shut his mouth.
"Revenge is a means. A way to clear your grievances and return to a happy life. It shouldn't become the goal."
Demerond's voice was a bit parched.
Like a failed adult lecturing children not to live like him.
"From my experience… those who can't distinguish usually go mad with emptiness after revenge ends, or destroy themselves."
"…"
"Not just saying this because you're my daughter's friend. I'd rather you didn't end up that way."
For some reason, recalling the ramblings of the elders from his cleanup crew days, Yeomyeong swallowed a bitter smile and bowed his head.
"…Thank you for the lesson."
Demerond smirked.
"A lesson? This is nothing. We're just getting started on making true intent."
Just getting started. Yeomyeong asked in a more serious tone.
"What should I do first?"
Like most martial arts, did it require lofty idioms or philosophical maxims?
As Yeomyeong cautiously rummaged through his mind.
The words from Demerond's mouth deviated a bit from his expectation.
"Express your life in one sentence."
***
The Saintess crossed her arms, watching the crowd swarm the dragon.
She wasn't sulking. Even she would go see the dragon grill meat over revolver tricks.
And above all, that massive reptile's grilling skills on its poor saddle were no joke.
She'd thought it'd just char the meat whole, but no—twirling it on a finger and huffing just-right breaths to cook it.
Well, not an incomprehensible sight. Dragons had spent eons with dwarves, after all.
Preparing a little show like dragon-breath charbroil for small friends wasn't so strange.
If anything, it was stranger that such a dragon had caused that ruckus about destroying Manchuria.
Feeling a strange mix after putting bullets in its eyes, the Saintess moved on.
She'd hoped for a piece of meat, but spotted Seti after a few steps.
Her feet moved before the thought of "When did she get here?"
Sneaking up to hug from behind, but Neti spotted the approaching Saintess, startled, and made an X with her fingers.
No pranks.
A gesture so blatant even the densest person would get it.
Normally, the Saintess would've ignored it, but seeing Seti's slumped shoulders killed the mood.
She gave Neti a small nod and turned away.
"Corbus, what are you doing?"
Next, she found the giant crow alone by the campfire, quietly gazing into the dark forest.
"On watch, Saintess."
The crow beastkin, Corbus, answered without taking his eyes off the forest beyond.
"Watch? Beasts in the forest?"
"Beasts would be lucky. It's worse."
"…Pardon?"
"Some humans are closing in on the camp. At least thirty, from the numbers."
The Saintess involuntarily turned to the forest. But she saw only the characteristic darkness of the night woods—no sense of approaching humans.
It would've been better if she could spot one or two.
Not sensing even one meant the ones surrounding the camp were beyond imagination.
The Saintess swallowed.
"…Why all of a sudden?"
"Either the mercenaries called reinforcements… or just bad luck. One or the other."
Corbus's voice, clicking his beak, brimmed with wariness.
The Saintess suddenly recalled the French Foreign Legion marks on the dead mercenaries' phones and felt sleepiness vanish.
She looked for Yeomyeong first.
But after scanning the camp and spreading her mana, she couldn't find him.
"Um… Corbus? I don't see Yeomyeong."
"…"
"Corbus?"
"I know."
He knows? The Saintess felt a chill. No precognition needed—she could guess what happened.
"No way… he didn't go into the forest alone, right?"
Corbus didn't answer. Silent affirmation.
The Saintess pressed her forehead and sighed deeply. I'm doomed. What mess is he stirring now?
"…Let's go find him now."
"No."
"No? What do you mean! Yeomyeong's your disciple! You can't just abandon—"
As the Saintess yelled, Corbus cut her off.
"Saintess, we have superhumans and a dragon here. For enemies to approach anyway means they have confidence in winning."
"…"
"I trust my disciple. Whatever happens, he'll escape just fine."
Corbus stared at her and added.
"If I go into the forest looking for him and you or Miss Seti get hurt, how could I face my disciple?"
The Saintess couldn't think of a retort. She just pouted, then used precognition.
Fine, just look into the future.
A sight the High Pontiff or other priests would lament, but Corbus wasn't a Five Gods follower.
Waste divine blessing or not, the crow stood guard beside her like a bodyguard.
Her vision under the eyepatch peeked into the future, while the current campfire flickered and spat embers for a moment.
Returning to the present, the Saintess clenched her fist and trembled.
"What's wrong, Saintess? What future did you see?"
When Corbus cautiously asked, she whipped her head to stare at Seti.
"No way, something happens to Miss Seti?"
Contrary to her worried words, the Saintess's reaction was dramatic.
Worry, disappointment, rage. Like Caesar betrayed by Brutus.
Only then sensing the oddity, Corbus tilted his head.
"Um… Saintess?"
"Th-that… shameless…!"
"…Shameless?"
The Saintess pointed at Seti's back and shouted.
"S-Seti's planning to sleep in the same tent as Yeomyeong tonight!"
"…Pardon?"
"At night! Sneaking in! To the tent! And… and! Kissing!"
"…"
"What kind of situation is this! How could she?! If I hadn't used precognition, I'd be the only one in the dark!"
Corbus's brain worked overtime to process. Fortunately, her mage-like brain made a wise call.
Ignore.
The crow, having decided, turned to the flushed Saintess with another question.
"Saintess, then the enemies approaching…"
The most important topic, yet her response was lukewarm.
"No need to worry about them."
What now? Unable to see the future, Corbus swallowed frustration and asked again.
"No need?"
"The attackers aren't after us—they're here for the red here."
"…Red?"
"Yes, Demerond Ip Marx."
Demerond? Elf leader? Why that name here?
Metaphor? As Corbus wondered what it meant, a flare shot up from the forest beyond.
Fwoosh—!
The red signal dyed the night sky the next instant.
The dragon, sensing the approaching enemies like Corbus, bolted upright.
He wrapped his tail around the watching merchants and workers for protection, aiming the flames pooling in his mouth toward the flare…
But then…
—Aaack!!
Combat erupted suddenly from the forest beyond.
Only shaking leaves were visible, but the sounds told all.
Gunfire, explosions, incantations, screams.
Amid the sudden noise, merchants hid behind the dragon in fright, while it and Corbus raised mana and stayed alert.
A mage's senses reading mana faintly gleaned battle info.
The attackers were pros armed with latest weapons and gear. Superhumans among them: at least twenty.
Worlds apart from Dodon's brotherhood or whatever—like regulars vs. bandits.
—They're surrounding… Aaack!!
—Target the legs! The le—Gahk!
But they were being massacred. The foe's brutality showed in the endless death rattles echoing through the forest.
Corbus frowned, thinking. Yeomyeong? No, not him.
His disciple was ruthless to foes, but far from that slaughter.
'Then really…?'
Before her thought finished, the screams from the forest stopped.
Eerie silence.
Superhumans and drunken workers alike grasped its meaning.
Battle over. So fast, so brutal.
Moments later, two sets of footsteps broke the silence from the forest.
Thud, thud.
Merchants held breath, even the dragon tensed.
Under the camp's torchlight, two figures emerged.
Someone in a hood, and Cheon Yeomyeong.
Not a drop of blood on their clothes, they entered camp and sat at a table— no one spoke till then.
But the moment Yeomyeong approached the table where the Seti sisters sat.
The Saintess shattered the silence.
"Hey! Cheon Yeomyeong! You're sleeping outside tonight!"
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