Chapter 300: Chapter 297: Night of El Island

On the northern part of El Island, all armed forces belonging to the Istani Kingdom were mobilizing.

The Kingdom had many colonies, the closest of which was El, separated by just a narrow sea.

Conflict had flared between the two sides ever since the Kingdom’s founding. The main island was populated by followers of Is, who rejoiced when he used his power to overthrow the Old Empire and the Order Church.

The Gray Elves of El Island, however, were skeptical of this foreign Divine Spirit and kept their distance. After the Empire’s invaders were driven into the sea, they attempted to restore the glory and traditions of their ancestors, returning to the worship of the Elf King or the Nature God.

"These heretics, these mudbloods, they’re all lazy, stupid bastards. But they’re also a bit cunning, so be careful. Be very careful. Don’t you dare get killed by those weaklings. There’s no honor in a death like that. Your brothers won’t mourn you; they’ll laugh at you!" 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

After gaining its independence, Istani wasted no time in inflicting the painful experience of its own oppression and enslavement onto its neighbors, only twice as harsh. They destroyed El Island’s ancient altars and palaces, eradicated its ruling class, and turned the island into a mere granary, its people forced to toil in the swamps and mountains.

The Grand Master of the Burning Lion Knight Order had a face covered in scars that carved up his bulging muscles. Combined with his bushy, golden beard, he truly resembled a roaring lion. His vicious gaze swept over his men. Each of these fine young lads stood grimly under the night sky, itching for a fight, craving the pleasure of the kill.

The Grand Master was pleased. He rapped his scabbard twice. A Knight squire brought forward a tray laden with small vials of Potions.

"Listen up, lads! Her Majesty the Queen has granted you something special—this Holy Oil. Just smear a little under your nose, and you’ll be braver than the champions of the Old Empire’s fighting pits. You’ll fear no pain, fear nothing... But don’t use too much. If this operation ends too quickly, you won’t know what to do with all that leftover energy!"

’There’s something this good?’ The Knights, filled with curiosity and excitement, took the vials one by one. Some used it on the spot and let out an involuntary roar.

The Knight Order was the mailed fist intended to crush the main force of the El Island Rebel Army. Meanwhile, in the fields and villages, the cleanup operations were being handled by Istani’s public security forces.

However, the Gray Elves were already aware of their movements.

A young Gray Elf woman packed her few valuables in a thatched hut, carefully wrapping them in a cloth she had woven herself. She also grabbed the dry rations she had prepared long ago. El Island was known for a certain tuber, the main source of starch for the entire Istani Kingdom. Bread made from it was difficult to leaven, and to preserve it, it was dehydrated as much as possible and baked as hard as a rock.

"Mother, please, come with me into the woods..." The young woman held her child’s hand. From experience, she knew they had about fifteen minutes to evacuate after the village bell rang. Any later, and the soldiers would be here.

"I’m old. I can’t walk anymore... You go on. Hide yourselves well. I’ll just stay here and pray for my son..." The man of the house was likely with the Rebel Army. Word had come that the Istani suppression force was larger than ever before, and everyone worried for the rebels.

But without a resistance, the Kingdom’s oppression of the Gray Elves would only grow more flagrant. They could be enslaved at a whim, their last morsels of food taken without a second thought.

The old woman’s attention was fixed on a small altar in her home. Upon it sat a wooden carving with a featureless face, inscribed with the same kind of Runes Rorschach had once seen in a museum.

The young woman hesitated for a moment before setting a piece of the hard bread beside the old woman.

"Goodbye, Grandma..." The child didn’t understand this was a final farewell. They were blissfully unaware, knowing only that they would be spending the rest of the night in the woods. They wondered why Grandma got to stay home, away from the cold wind.

The old woman didn’t answer. She picked up the bread, placed it on the altar, and continued to pray. Even she didn’t know who she was praying to, or why the centuries of blood and tears shed by the Gray Elves had not been enough to fill the Divine Spirit’s altar.

But she was old and frail, no longer able to move through the forest. Following her daughter-in-law and grandchildren would only slow them down. All she could do was repeat this futile act.

It was common knowledge that Elves were a long-lived race. The songs of Minstrels told of an Elf Wise Man who had enlightened three generations of humans, and of an Elf war hero who had faced two different Dwarf commanders in a war that spanned more than a century.

But ever since the Age of Silence, ever since El Island was ruthlessly conquered and subjugated by its neighbor, the lifespan of the Gray Elves had shortened. It was a result of their grueling labor, harsh living conditions, and the organized "eliminations."

In the ancient times when they lived freely, an Elf of her age would have still been in her prime. But now, she was like a shriveled, dehydrated shrimp, her thin and withered body hunched over in pain and piety.

BANG!

The family hadn’t been gone long when the door was brutally kicked open. It was the gun-toting "lobsters." They had already searched from house to house, but most of the inhabitants were gone.

Spotting the old Elf, the lead "lobster’s" eyes lit up. "Another old relic! Haha, the mudbloods really are animals. Abandoned by their own kin."

The old woman remained unmoved, continuing her muttered prayers to the altar.

"Hey, what are you mumbling about?" The incomprehensible tongue only irritated the intruder more. The ancient language was a stark reminder that they were trespassers, committing violence on land that was not their own.

The tip of a bayonet plunged into the flesh of her back. The old woman’s prayer paused for an instant, but she quickly resumed.

"Fucking hell, still praying to some god at a time like this? There’s no such thing... You’re all abandoned, meant to rot in the mud..."

Just then, blood trickled across the rough stone floor, soaking the dry, withered straw and flowing all the way to the center of the altar.

The soldier cruelly twisted the blade, trying to drive it deeper, but the bayonet caught on bone. Annoyed, and wanting to preserve his blade, he pulled it out.

THUMP. In this squad leader’s career, another mudblood had fallen. He used his blade to flip her onto her back and sliced off her long left ear. After he was done, he gave the body a few cursory prods to make sure the old Elf was truly dead.

"Didn’t command want the right ear?"

"Are you blind? The old hag’s right ear was already gone. We’ll tell the C.O., see if we can get it included in the count."

"Let’s move, let’s move..." he muttered, turning to head to the next house with his men. It seemed the Gray Elves here had been tipped off again, leaving them to come up empty-handed.

Just as he was about to step over the threshold, the sound of prayer rose again, growing louder and louder.

’Someone else is here?’ They wanted to turn and look, but the hairs on their necks stood on end, and instinct screamed at them not to!

A voice—sharp as the bayonets on their rifles—pierced their eardrums and burrowed deep into their minds, churning them into madness. Suddenly, they could understand the old Elf’s words. All this time, she had been repeating one simple phrase: "Kill you kill you kill you kill you..."

An uncannily beautiful flower burst from the Earth. Wild vines erupted from the nearby swamp and the village well, and the squad of "lobsters" became nourishment for the grotesque flora.