Mausoleum of the Moon’s Shadow (6)
Mausoleum of the Moon’s Shadow (6)
“I’m the one who ate the fruit! S-so… let’s talk…”
At Raguel’s audacious words, every monster froze in place in shock.
They all turned to look at him at once.
A whirl of emotions swirled in their eyes—confusion, rage, despair, resentment, shock, hopelessness, grief… countless psychological ripples spread without order.
The demons began gathering around him one by one, climbing over one another until Raguel was completely encircled.
It was as if he were trapped inside a vast dome.
Within the darkness, only their jade-colored eyes gleamed.
──Ah! Ah! The detestable human has taken away even our final hope!
──Rip open his gut!
──Wait! Look closely at him!
──The ears! His ears!
──No… it can’t be!
In voices once filled only with fury, suspicion began to seep in.
──An Elf!
──How… How is that possible?!
Murmurs and commotion spread rapidly.
Though Raguel was tense and afraid, he waited silently. If what Mapheltan told him was correct, they would soon react in a specific way.
──A brother untouched by the Moon’s curse? That’s impossible!
──There can be no pure Elves!
──It’s an illusion! Tear him apart!
In this world, every existing Elf had long since fallen into demonhood.
They had even lost the ability to reproduce, unable to conceive normal Elves anymore.
The same was true for the World Tree that had become an Apostle.
In the distant past, the World Tree bore High Elves. But now, its reproductive functions are entirely gone.
In other words, a pure Elf should not be able to exist in this era.
And yet—here he stood, a High Elf, in plain view.
The demons were in chaos.
──Kill him?
──Of course!
──Wait! This isn’t for us to decide!
Just as an argument was breaking out among them, a voice thick with long-held resentment rang out.
“Stand down, brothers.”
The tone alone commanded presence, even amid the noise.
The moment that voice was heard, the dome of demons around Raguel began to disperse.
The view opened once again.
Raguel swallowed hard.
Before him stood an even deeper darkness than Mapheltan’s.
It was like a shadow had been raised up on the ground in the shape of a man—staring straight into him.
From within Raguel’s arms, Zal’karin muttered quietly,
“A Dark Elf… the one the End spoke of.”
The stranger’s eyes, like Raguel’s, glowed jade. His ears stood tall and pointed.
His thin, wiry frame radiated an oppressive presence.
A Dark Elf was fundamentally different from the other demons in the mausoleum.
Having once been a High Elf, he retained an aura few could match even after falling into demonhood.
The air itself seemed to grow heavier.
The Dark Elf finally spoke.
“How empty. Five hundred years of labor, all for nothing.”
The Elves had nurtured the World Tree’s seed for five centuries, hoping to grow it into a new World Tree.
All of that had turned to dust.
Because of the boy before him—Raguel.
The Dark Elf’s eyes were hollow, more weary than hateful.
In fact, there was something detached in his demeanor.
Raguel, tense, stammered out,
“T-that’s not true. The seed has brought about a High Elf.”
No expression crossed the Dark Elf’s face.
“By High Elf, you mean yourself?”
“…Yes.”
“And what meaning does that have?”
“If I’m here, then someday our brothers will be born again on this land—pure Elves untouched by the Moon’s curse.”
One of the Dark Elf’s eyes narrowed.
“Did you just say ‘our’?”
“B-because I’m an Elf now… I’ve seen your memories and your pain, and I share in your wounds…”
The Dark Elf cut off Raguel’s rambling.
“My brothers and I are demons. We are no longer Elves. All we desire is the extinction of humanity. Restoration? Revival? Such things don’t matter.”
Raguel’s voice trembled.
“That’s a lie. Why else would you hold onto the seed for five hundred years?”
“Clinging. Obsession. The seed would never have sprouted anyway—there’s no nourishment in this barren graveyard.”
“B-but—”
“All of it was an empty dream. And now that the seed is gone, I finally see it clearly.”
There was a strange relief in his tone.
“There’s still a chance! I swear I’ll—”
“Do as you wish. You don’t need to declare it to me.”
The Dark Elf began walking past him.
“W-where are you going? I’m not done talking!”
“Young Elf, I won’t harm you. But the ‘Gakgwi’ will have to pay the price. And he holds the Key to the Abyss, does he not?”
The moment those words left him, a new commotion broke out among the demons.
──Could it be… we’ll leave this prison?!
──Let’s tear the humans apart!
──Revenge! The day of vengeance has come!
With the seed gone, there was no reason to remain in the mausoleum.
If they obtained the Abyss Key, they could escape—then live to bring humanity to its end.
Just as Mapheltan had planned.
The problem was only one thing—The demons wanted Mapheltan dead.
That could not be allowed to happen.
Raguel asked,
“…Do you plan to kill me?”
The Dark Elf turned back to him.
“As I said, I have no intention of harming you.”
Raguel was the last Elf in the world.
Even as a demon, the Dark Elf could not bring himself to kill him.
Deep down, he still longed for the glory of the past.
Raguel slowly lifted his closed left eye.
In it gleamed the mark of a grim god of slaughter wielding a scythe—Mapheltan’s sigil.
“If you kill Mapheltan, I won’t survive either. He’s my master, and I’m bound to protect him.”
Beyond the subjugation contract, they had also sworn a mutual protection pact.
Each was the other’s heart—like Illea and Mapheltan.
The Dark Elf’s gaze narrowed further.
“…So the Gakgwi has completely played you.”
Without the resolve to kill Raguel, harming Mapheltan would be difficult.
Raguel said,
“S-so… are you willing to hear me out now?”
He intended to draw them under Mapheltan’s banner—if he could convince them.
Though Mapheltan had warned him not to push too hard here.
The Dark Elf replied,
“There’s nothing for us to discuss. If the Gakgwi uses you to manipulate me, then even if I must lose you, I will kill him. Whether or not he gives me the Abyss Key.”
It was a calm but sincere declaration.
Raguel had no idea how to convince him.
At the very least, he had to secure a secondary goal.
“…If we hand you the Key willingly?”
“Then nothing will happen.”
The Dark Elf still wanted Mapheltan dead—but if Raguel’s life was at stake, he could step back, provided he received the Key.
Raguel took a deep breath.
“Fine. Keep your word.”
“So… where is the key?”
Raguel pointed back the way he had come.
“Mapheltan has it. He’s probably waiting for you.”
Without another word, the Dark Elf turned away and began walking.
Countless demons followed in his wake.
Raguel collapsed onto the spot.
The tension drained from him all at once.
From his arms, Zal’karin poked his head out.
“Not bad for a brat. Now the End will take care of the rest.”
***
In the ashen forest, Mapheltan leaned against a rotting giant tree, staring straight ahead.
A pitch-black shadow was slowly approaching.
Five centuries of rot, yet a Dark Elf is still a Dark Elf.
The quality of the mana he exuded was considerable.
By Gakgwi standards, he was a high-ranking demon with at least three horns.
He stopped directly in front of Mapheltan.
“The key?”
“What’s the rush? There’s still a few days until the full moon—let’s talk a bit first.”
The Abyss Gate would only open again with the next full moon.
Before Mapheltan could finish speaking, the Dark Elf’s form vanished.
Damn it!
Before he could react, a hand was clamped around his throat, lifting him into the air.
“Young demon, spare me the chatter and hand over the key. I’ve no intention of indulging your nonsense.”
In the Dark Elf’s jade eyes, murderous intent flared—barely restrained fury.
Even in pain, Mapheltan smirked.
“What’s the matter? Afraid? Worried you’ll fall under my sway? Hah! How ridiculous! An ancient being like you, frightened of a fledgling like me!”
The Dark Elf’s gaze sharpened into slits.
He slammed Mapheltan into the ground.
A dull thud rang out, scattering ash into the air.
“I’ll have to shut that mouth of yours.”
A black sphere of light began to condense in his palm.
Feigning compliance, Mapheltan slowly raised both hands.
In one of them was a small wooden plaque.
The Simheokdan—the key to the Abyss’s First Territory.
The Dark Elf strode forward and reached out.
Just as he was about to seize it, Mapheltan spoke.
“A few months ago, a Witch came here.”
At that time, Illea had visited the Abyss and collected the World Tree’s sap.
At the mention of that day, the Dark Elf’s movements froze.
“A Witch…?”
Mapheltan smiled faintly.
“Yes, a Witch. So—willing to talk now?”
The Dark Elf snatched the Simheokdan from his hand.
Though his business was done, he remained rooted in place.
“You’re allied with the Witch?”
Mapheltan shrugged.
“I thought you weren’t interested in conversation. Changed your mind already?”
A deep frown creased the Dark Elf’s brow, radiating distaste.
“Answer me, young demon.”
“Well… ‘allied’ doesn’t quite cover it. We’re closer than that.”
After all, they shared their very lives.
“You’re… the Witch’s familiar?”
Mapheltan chuckled.
“That would be the World Tree—not me.”
The Dark Elf’s eyes flickered.
“…Young demon, just how much do you know?”
“At least more than you do.”
A few months ago, when Illea had visited the Abyss, she had entered into a contract with the World Tree.
In exchange, the World Tree became the Witch’s familiar.
The Dark Elf had only learned that the World Tree had become her familiar—while Mapheltan knew the exact terms of their deal.
Not because Illea told him, but because he had read the original work.
The Dark Elf was visibly shaken.
“Tell me. Why did the Earth Mother bow to the Witch?”
The Earth Mother referred to the World Tree, Alquines.
Mapheltan’s lips curved slowly upward.
“It’s not free information.”
“Don’t get cocky—”
“Let’s make a trade. What will you give me?”
A chilling smile spread across his face.