Episode 291: Elfheim (3)
The elves were quickly captured.
”…The tide is turning against Elfheim,” an elven woman admitted, her face a mask of humiliation as she answered Damian’s question.
“I don’t know how they did it, but Pandemonium breached the illusion barrier and launched a surprise attack on Elfheim. As a result, we suffered significant losses right from the start.”
Elfheim had heavily relied on the illusion barrier for the island’s defense. They hadn’t anticipated it being breached and had no contingency plan, leading to inevitable damage.
‘Just like in my past life,’ Damian thought.
But it wasn’t entirely the elves’ fault. The illusion barrier surrounding Elfheim was created by the World Tree, a powerful entity. The World Tree was a sacred tree that had existed since the beginning of time, and the barrier it created was incredibly strong. The fact that humans hadn’t discovered Elfheim for centuries was proof of its strength.
“Half of the island is already in Pandemonium’s hands. We’re holding on for now, but it won’t last much longer.”
“I don’t understand. Couldn’t you drive them out by summoning the Spirit King?”
Elven warriors gain their strength by forming contracts with spirits. Even the weakest spirit could level a mountain. The Spirit King, at the pinnacle of these spirits, was a force of nature itself. Elfheim had three such Spirit King contractors.
“Since Pandemonium’s invasion, the World Tree’s power has significantly weakened. The Spirit King and other spirits have been affected, and one of the Spirit Kings was even forcibly taken.”
“Taken?” Damian’s disbelief was evident.
To force a contract, one must first subdue the spirit. Subduing a being as powerful as the Spirit King was nearly impossible.
The elven woman gave Damian a curious look. “Are you pretending not to know, or do you really not know?”
“I told you, I’m not on Pandemonium’s side.”
”…The Master of Flames, one of Pandemonium’s great evils, seized the Fire Spirit King.”
Damian couldn’t hide his shock. ‘The future has changed again.’
The Master of Flames was a notorious figure, comparable to the likes of Sla, the Weapon Master. He enslaved fire spirits, using them as his minions. In his past life, the Master of Flames had coveted the Fire Spirit King but ultimately failed to subdue it.
“It’s not just the Master of Flames. Pandemonium has four incredibly powerful undead. Even two of them could rival a Spirit King.”
They were likely referring to the Four Demon Lords. No other undead could stand against a Spirit King.
“If the Empire’s greatest swordsman hadn’t come to our aid, Elfheim would have already fallen.”
“Wait, the Empire’s greatest swordsman is here?” Damian asked, surprised by the unexpected name.
”…You really aren’t with Pandemonium, are you?” the elven woman said, realizing Damian’s ignorance.
“Just answer the question. Why is the Empire’s greatest swordsman here?”
“That’s because the swordsman…” The elven woman stopped herself, closing her mouth.
”…I can’t speak of it,” she said, her voice trembling.
Damian gave her a long, steady look, causing her to panic and shout, “No matter what you do, I can’t tell you!”
“Even if your kin are taken hostage?”
“It won’t work!”
“Then there’s nothing more to say.”
As Damian stepped back, the elven woman sighed in relief. From Damian’s perspective, he could simply ask the swordsman directly later.
“Do you know anything about someone named Dorgo?” Damian asked, steering the conversation to the main issue.
The elven woman blinked, confused. “Dorgo…?”
“You don’t know. Bantadi, you must know, right?” Damian turned to Bantadi, who was affiliated with Pandemonium and knew of Dorgo.
“I’m sorry! I have no idea where he is!” Bantadi replied, flustered.
“But you’re attacking Elfheim under his orders.”
“Yes, but I’m just a grunt. I only receive orders.”
Damian fell into thought. He hadn’t expected to come all the way to Elfheim and still have to search for Dorgo.
”…Are you really not with Pandemonium?” the elven woman asked cautiously. Damian, looking exasperated, replied, “How many times do I have to say it… What are you doing?”
The elven woman had suddenly knelt before him. “I trust you. Please, help us rescue our kin.”
“Have they been kidnapped?”
“Pandemonium has cleared the forest and built a fortress. Our kin are held captive there,” she said, biting her lip.
“The warriors of Elfheim are too busy holding off Pandemonium’s main forces. I wanted to rescue them myself, but I can’t do it alone. Please, help us,” she pleaded, bowing her head to the ground.
Damian stroked his chin. In his past life, he had been Dorgo’s vanguard, attacking Elfheim, killing countless elves, and destroying spirits, eventually leading to the World Tree’s demise. Without the World Tree, the elves became test subjects for dark sorcerers, dying horrific deaths. He couldn’t ignore such a plea, even if finding Dorgo was urgent.
”…A fortress, you say?” An idea suddenly struck him. If he couldn’t find Dorgo, why not make Dorgo come to him? By causing chaos in Pandemonium’s camp, Dorgo would have no choice but to respond.
‘The prisoners are the problem,’ he thought. He wanted to rush in and destroy the fortress, but doing so might lead Pandemonium to use the elves as hostages. He recalled his experience with the Dwarves of Hammerfall.
‘Ah, there’s no need to worry,’ he realized.
Turning to Bantadi, Damian asked, “Bantadi, are you good at acting?”
A short while later, Damian and Bantadi arrived at Pandemonium’s fortress.
‘So this is the fortress… It’s quite large,’ Damian noted. A high wall stood on a clearing where all the trees had been cut down. Dark knights patrolled the walls, exuding a menacing aura.
As Damian surveyed the fortress, the elven woman spoke in a hesitant voice, “Is this really the only way?”
She had reason to be uneasy. The elves, including herself, were bound in chains. Damian, to play the part of Bantadi’s subordinate, wore a cloak to conceal his identity. His name was well-known within Pandemonium, and he couldn’t risk being recognized.
“We’ll use the pretense of having captured you to get close to the prison. Bear with it,” Damian reassured her.
The elven woman looked at him with a face full of doubt. Meanwhile, the group reached the fortress gate. Damian whispered to Bantadi, who was leading the way, “Bantadi, it’s up to you now.”
“Yes, leave it to me!” Bantadi cleared his throat and shouted at the wall, “Hey, you bastards! I’m back! Open the gate!”
“Ah, it’s Bantadi! Did you have a good haul?”
“Can’t you see? I caught a bunch of elves!”
“Impressive. We’ll open the gate right away.”
With the sound of gears turning, the tightly shut gate began to open.
“Damian, let’s go inside,” Bantadi said, leading the way into the fortress.
Inside, soldiers were bustling about, moving weapons and materials needed for dark magic. ‘What’s that?’ Damian’s attention was drawn to a structure in the center of the fortress. A massive winch stood there, with a deep, wide pit beneath it.
“Bantadi, what’s that?” Damian asked.
“Forgive me, my lord. I haven’t been told much, only that it’s a very important facility.”
The more he heard, the more suspicious it seemed. Damian couldn’t take his eyes off the winch.
“Damian, I’ll guide you to the prison,” Bantadi said, snapping Damian back to the task at hand. As curious as he was about the winch, rescuing the elven prisoners took priority.
Just as Bantadi began to move, the sky above the fortress split open. A portal appeared, and a woman stepped out. She was undeniably beautiful, but there was something unsettling about her—an uncanny perfection that was almost repulsive.
’…Sita,’ Damian recognized her. She was one of the Four Demon Lords.
As soon as Sita appeared, the dark sorcerers and knights gathered around her. One of them respectfully asked, “Lady Sita, what brings you here?”
“I’ve come to check on the progress as per his orders. How far has ‘it’ infiltrated?” Sita inquired.
“The last batch you provided has fully seeped into the ground,” the sorcerer replied.
“I’ll need to verify that,” Sita said, moving towards the pit. The sorcerers and knights followed her.
Suddenly, Sita came to a halt, her gaze fixed on Demian and Bantadi.
“Would you two mind coming over here for a moment?”
Bantadi glanced at Demian, who gave a slight nod.
Even the Four Great Demon Lords wouldn’t recognize Demian now, as he had completely concealed his presence.
Bantadi led the group over to Sita.
“What are you up to right now?”
“We’re in the process of transferring captured elf prisoners to the dungeon,” Bantadi replied, gesturing to the bound elves. But Sita didn’t even glance in their direction.
“Is the man beside you your subordinate?” she asked, pointing at Demian. Bantadi quickly responded.
“Yes, though his skills are lacking, he’s quick-witted, so I keep him around.”
“I see. You may pass.”
Bantadi bowed his head and moved on, with Demian following closely behind.
As Demian brushed past Sita, she suddenly swung her hand, unleashing a wave of dark energy towards him.
Demian countered with a swift motion, deflecting the attack, though his robe was torn in the process, revealing his face. Sita stared at him intently.
“So it was you after all.”
“How did you know? I thought I hid my presence perfectly.”
Sita pointed to her ear. “I have excellent hearing. I remembered the sound your body made when we met last time.”
Demian chuckled softly.
Every person’s organs produce unique sounds, and Sita had identified him through that. To anyone else, it might have sounded absurd, but Demian knew well the extent of Sita’s abilities. Still, he hadn’t expected her to remember his sound from such a brief encounter.
“I wanted to meet you again,” Sita said, extending her hand. Smoke gathered in the air, forming a longsword.
Demian tilted his head, puzzled by the weapon. “In your past life, you used a greatsword, didn’t you?”
Sita had wielded a greatsword in her previous life, a weapon similar in size to the one Demian had used, which is why he remembered it so well.
“As a fellow swordsman, would you teach me a thing or two?” Sita asked, a hint of challenge in her voice.
Demian smirked. The audacity of an undead to challenge him with a sword was almost laughable, yet he couldn’t resist the provocation.
“An undead pretending to be a knight, is it?” he taunted, summoning his own power. Sita mirrored him, drawing on her dark energy.
In an instant, both figures vanished, and the clash of their swords echoed through the air.