“So, you’d rather just die than become a Dark Elf? I don’t really care because I think I can get good data.'”
“It’s not just those who accept becoming Dark Elves… As long as I have life, I must guide them… cough …they must be led…”
In a muddy islet within a polluted swamp, surrounded by thorns in the ‘Political Prison’, Jibalmagza, the ‘Instructor’, lay crucified on a floor woven with vines. With his already deeply wrinkled face, he scowled at the ceiling.
In the midst of excruciating pain that made it impossible to discern whether he was alive or dead, Jibalmagza had not lost sight of himself.
If one were to become a Dark Elf, their body would adapt to the evil aura, allowing them to survive and escape pain. But Jibalmagza had no intention whatsoever of becoming a Dark Elf.
Though imprisoned, Jibalmagza was allowed visitors by some. Presumably, this was to keep the village together. Killing their leader, Jibalmagza, would surely spark resistance, but keeping him alive would somehow preserve the status quo.
This was what Jibalmagza desired as well. He didn’t think he could do much at this point, but he had to guide his tribe as a spiritual anchor. And until someone could inherit that pride, he had to maintain dignity until the end. That was Jibalmagza’s final task.
Beside him, a witch dressed provocatively observed Jibalmagza without mocking or showing anger—simply finding amusement.
“Witch… Over 400 years ago, at the southern end of this continent, there was a great war that determined the fate of the human races.”
“I know. I was part of that battle too. On the losing side.”
“I see… We fought as well…”
With each breath, his lungs felt as if his veins were being dragged out.
Afflicted by evil energy, Jibalmagza barely clung to life thanks to the dubious medicine administered to him twice a day.
Amid the pain, only distant memories of the past kept flashing through his mind.
“More than family, many comrades… perished in battle. Men and women… even the breath of gods was near us… simply surviving as if we were one life… we combined our strength… we were the world…”
Suddenly, an old wound throbbed with heat, and a hot tear trickled down Jibalmagza’s cheek.
“You understand… I can’t change how I live now. I can’t even sell my soul… whether that’s right or not… it doesn’t matter…”
“Yeah, maybe that’s how it goes…”
Surprisingly, the witch sighed deeply and nodded.
＊ ＊ ＊
It was near the outskirts of the residential area at the heart of the forest.
The area was sparsely wooded, with open grasslands and a few scattered trees.
Vines growing from the ground formed a bench-like structure, and Kurususarina sat there.
Her once beautiful grass-colored hair had turned completely white, like that of an elderly person.
She wasn’t wearing a priestess’s outfit but rather a simple garment resembling sleepwear, gazing absentmindedly at the sky.
“Oh?”
She heard Liellamires approaching her and turned around.
“Hello. We meet again quite often, don’t we?”
“…Yeah.”
Smiling and nodding politely, Kurususarina responded with a vague answer.
“What’s your name?”
“Liellamires…”
“Yes, Liella-san.”
It was the same question as yesterday.
Kurususarina, who had been cheerful, suddenly looked puzzled.
“My name… What was it…? My name…”
“Kurusu.”
Liellamires slightly overlapped her words in a somewhat teasing tone.
“Kurusarina. You are Kurusarina.”
“Kurusu… Yes, that’s right.”
“What were you doing?”
“I don’t know.”
Kurususarina looked up at the sky.
Through the clusters of darkened trees, the sky above was a clear, bright blue.
“I need to go somewhere, I need to do something… I’ve been thinking that all this time… It’s not the time to sit still here… I have to help everyone, protect them… But… how? Where do I start…?”
Kurususarina held her head and collapsed.
“Kurusu!”
“I can’t… remember… what I was… Oh, my head! Aaah!”
“It’s okay. It’s okay. You’ll be fine, right?”
Holding her head and shaking like a distressed child, Kurususarina screamed.
Liellamires gently embraced her.
“There’s nothing… for you to worry about. It’ll be okay. Just relax…”
It was almost suffocatingly sad.
Kurususarina no longer understood the significance of Liellamires’ skin color.
She had forgotten even her enemies and yet was still trying to protect them.
◇
René sat on the edge of the rooftop of the ‘Sanatorium’, a place concocted by entwining vines and plants that could hardly be called ivy or trees.
Below, she could see Kurususarina and Liellamires on the grassy plain.
“I’ll accept the results since the conditions of our contract have been met. No complaints, no returns on this outcome.”
“No problem at all. Given the circumstances, you upheld your promise with me quite well… I pray that the time she has left will be peaceful.”
The ghost of Salesaya, faintly visible in the sunlight, hovered nearby.
Although she had been disconnected from the land veins, Kurususarina was now in a state akin to a vegetable. Her body was compromised, and it was unclear how many more years she could live.
Not wanting to inflict further suffering in this state, and possibly wasting her life, René liberated her and granted her the freedom of her remaining days.
René felt no sympathy, but she also considered her another victim of the Great God.
“What will become of the village… I mean, this tribe from now on?”
“I can’t guarantee anything, depending on the situation.”
“But if they hold onto their resentment and raise their voices in anger, I promise I’ll stand by them. Whether it’s to cut ties or consume, I won’t leave them alone.”
She didn’t speak deceitfully about protecting them.
Ultimately, René’s fight stemmed from her own anger. Fully aware of this, she had no intention of misleading allies by obscuring her motives.
René simply intended to rally as many who shared her grievances as possible and was determined not to disregard those who followed in her footsteps. Otherwise, she would have no chance against powerful nations.
Salesaya smiled quietly.
Whether her expression was relief or resignation, her emotions were complex and difficult to read.
“Well then, shall we say our goodbyes?”
At René’s signal, the ghost of Salesaya, faintly hovering in the sunlight, was entwined by a golden chain.
The thin golden chain emerging from René’s chest was intangible, a phantom visible only to the soul. It was proof that René had completely captured Salesaya’s soul.
A lukewarm wind swirled around René.
The gravitational pull of a black hole of souls centered around René.
It was an expression of René’s overpowering cheat-like ability to devour and decompose souls.
“Is there anything you’d like to say?”
“…Yes, just one thing…”
Facing her demise, even as her soul was devoured by the wind, Salesaya remained serene.
With eyes that seemed to see everything, she looked at René.
“Find comrades you can trust. That’s probably what you’re lacking.”
“Eh…”
René unintentionally let out a sound.
—Something to leave behind… for me?
Trusted comrades.
At least, René believed that those currently in high-ranking positions wouldn’t easily betray her.
René possessed the ability of “Emotion Detection”, which allowed her to instantly discern any hidden enmity or rebellion within her allies. Therefore, she felt there was no need to either believe or doubt.
Yet, that was precisely the blind spot.
René had surpassed the conflicts that are typically unavoidable when building an organization.
—But… what was this?
Given the audacious acts veering towards evil, René believed in establishing a structure tied by profit and purpose rather than relying on the uncertain and unreliable bonds of individual trust within the organization.
Since this approach had proven successful, it had also garnered the cooperation of the elves.
If anyone was concerned about René personally, they were completely mistaken.
She was meant to be disliked even by allies.
Who would believe? Whom should they trust?
Even if there were those who held a favorable opinion of René, it was likely just unreliable sympathy, akin to a house of cards.
Suddenly, René recalled that Salesaya, who appeared youthful but was an elf and had lived over 300 years longer than herself, had uttered these words at the end.
Salesaya no longer spoke.
She danced in the wind, crumbling, and leapt towards René.
“Ah…!”
The impact caused René to stagger.
It felt as if someone had punched a hole in her chest and poured molten lead inside.
“This is heavy… this must be the biggest catch yet. Maybe I’ll have to stay in bed for about a week until I get used to it…”
Alongside a sense of exhilaration, René’s entire body grew hot, as if afflicted with a fever, despite being an undead with almost no body temperature.
This reaction was due to consuming a soul. It would take some time for René to adjust to the immense power of the soul she had consumed, and she would suffer pain proportional to its size.
In any case, as René turned back to find a small, black presence had appeared.
“Meow.”
“Oh, Mialanze. What’s the matter?”
“Mrr…”
A black cat approached and sprawled belly-up against René’s ankle.
Mialanze, nearly vanishing due to the activation of Soul Source Magic, had been temporarily repaired by Everis. Currently, she was in this state.
Although the plan was to restore her while letting her recuperate in the forest filled with evil life force, for now, she was just wandering around quite freely in cat form, around René and Everis.
Rubbing against René’s leg, Mialanze looked up at her with amber eyes.
For now, it seemed her mentality had reverted to a cat’s level.
“Hey. Can’t you walk?”
“Mrr.”
“Honestly…”
René reluctantly picked up the black cat and continued walking.
Mialanze purred contentedly, submitting to being carried along.
