The Retired Supporting Character Wants to Live Quietly-Chapter 196

Chapter 196 – Kirrin’s Black Forest (19)

“Karsal, is it? Who knows.”

At Baltar’s vague reply, Drebren narrowed his eyes and scanned the surroundings sharply.

Hidden in the blind spots behind Baltar, several dark elves lay in wait.

They had formed a fan-shaped encirclement around Drebren.

Upon closer inspection, he recognized them—children of Nishira and other mothers.

Seeing this, Drebren understood.

So Nishira has finally made her move.

She must know she can’t defeat me in a Karsal, so she’s resorting to other schemes.

He had long been wary of Nishira.

He had a vague idea that she’d been secretly rallying other mothers behind Father’s back.

He’d reported it to Nemara several times, but Father had shown no intention of doing anything.

Ever since Maman’s death, Father had been… different.

He used to be indifferent to everything unrelated to the clan.

But when it came to clan matters, he never overlooked a single detail—no matter how trivial.

And yet, after Maman’s death, he had stopped paying attention even to the clan.

Now, he spent most days doing nothing, holed up in his quarters—sometimes even behaving as if Maman were still alive, standing before him.

Why had he become like that?

Perhaps… just perhaps… Father had truly loved Maman.

Which was why, in recent days, Drebren had taken over most of the clan’s affairs, and had even been planning to kill Nishira at the right moment.

But a misstep could collapse the clan’s hierarchy entirely—so he had tread carefully.

And yet, she had moved first.

From the number of them here, it looked like nearly everyone except us had sided with her.

Sharian and Zakrion must be in similar situations.

So how far does this go?

Was the goal just to eliminate him and put Baltar forward as the next chief?

Or did it extend all the way to assassinating Nemara and seizing leadership outright?

He couldn’t know—not until he dealt with these attackers and assessed the full scope.

“Hold on a moment.”

When Drebren turned to head back inside his quarters, one of the dark elves charged forward.

“Now’s not the time for that, Brother Drebren!”

He reversed the grip on his blade and drove it toward Drebren’s back.

“This isn’t just a simple Karsal—gurgh!”

But Drebren had already caught him by the throat.

The dark elf’s eyes went wide, mouth agape.

Drebren’s other hand clamped down on the attacker’s wrist—gripping the hand that held the blade.

“I said, wait.”

With a sharp jerk, the dark elf’s neck and wrist snapped simultaneously, the sound of bone cracking ringing through the air.

Seeing such inhuman strength, the others hesitated, exchanging uneasy glances.

Drebren tossed the corpse aside and emerged from the house holding his favorite weapon—

A heavy iron trident staff.

“Son of a…”

A few of the dark elves cursed under their breath at the sight.

“Fine. Let’s do this the dark elf way.”

Spinning the trident lightly to loosen his muscles, Drebren spoke.

“There’s no leaving here unless you kill or die.

If you try to run, I’ll chase you to the ends of the forest.

I assume you all came prepared for that much?”

No one answered.

Drebren turned to Baltar.

“You answer for them, Baltar.”

“Very well, Brother.”

Baltar twirled his twin daggers with a grin.

“Just the way you like it.

But tell me—”

He glanced around, spinning the daggers between his fingers.

“Where is she?”

“She?”

“That half-breed born of the human woman…”

Baltar didn’t get to finish.

Drebren’s trident had already thundered toward him, closing the distance in a blink.

BOOM!!

The weapon slammed into the ground beside him, unleashing a deafening blast and tremor.

Tension flickered across Baltar’s face. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

Drebren had never once engaged in a Karsal before.

Nemara’s eyes still kept the clan in line, and it wasn’t yet time to determine succession that way.

No one had seen Drebren truly fight. They had assumed, with numbers, they could overwhelm him.

But now, maybe… that wasn’t the case.

Still, it didn’t matter.

All but a few—Drebren’s siblings—had already sided with Baltar.

By the time the sun rose, everything would be over.

“Don’t be afraid! Time is on our side—kill him!”

At Baltar’s shout, the dark elves drew their weapons and charged.

The first brave—and unfortunate—soul to reach Drebren had his head crushed instantly, fragments scattering in all directions.

# # #

Meanwhile, in Nemara’s quarters—

He paid no mind to the chaos outside, still staring at the withered bouquet tucked in the corner of the side table.

As always, his fingers absently toyed with his black eyepatch.

“Lord Nemara! A gift for you!”

This eyepatch had been a gift from Marian.

Nemara had lost his left eye in one of countless Karsals, and had crudely cut a piece of leather to cover it.

When it had cracked and frayed over time, Marian—who’d been kidnapped—used her own leather bag to craft him a proper one.

“It fits perfectly. You look great!”

Marian had never returned to the city.

The contract had fallen through.

She had been kidnapped purely as a job.

Two noble houses were feuding. One, on the losing side, had commissioned the abduction of the rival’s daughter.

They had planned to use her life as leverage for negotiations.

But it turned out Marian wasn’t a noble’s daughter at all—just a maid.

The rival family, having anticipated the move, had hidden the real daughter and dressed Marian up in her place.

She had the same look. Wore the same expensive clothes. Slept in the same chambers.

They had taken her without a second thought. That was the mistake.

“I understand.”

When Nemara learned the truth, he’d been furious. But Marian had only smiled with resignation.

“I’m just an orphan. No one cares what happens to me. So do as you please. Even if I die here, there’s no one to mourn me.”

And Nemara hadn’t been able to kill her.

He had gone too far—Too far to still act with the cold logic of a dark elf.

He’d simply grown too accustomed to her.

So Marian stayed in the Black Forest… And eventually gave birth to Kirrin.

A tiny child with skin like milk chocolate.

Fragile. Crying constantly. So soft-hearted she couldn’t even kill a bug.

Too timid to throw a dagger. Too clumsy to even hide properly.

If not for her intelligence, she’d be utterly useless—Nothing more than dead weight.

She was probably fumbling now too—Unable to say anything proper to that Dian man.

Foolish.

As always, I’ll have to handle it myself.

Nemara slowly rose to his feet.

“Where are you going, little brother?”

A voice came from just ahead—Morkan had appeared without a sound.

Morkan. Nemara’s elder brother.

They had fought for leadership in a Karsal—and Morkan lost.

But instead of dying, he fled. A coward’s betrayal of the sacred rite.

Nemara had thought he’d died somewhere, alone and disgraced.

So this too was Nishira’s doing.

Leaving him alive for the sake of clan balance had been a mistake.

I should have killed her and her spawn when I had the chance.

No matter. Tonight, I’ll kill them all—Her, her allies, and this coward before me.

Just as Nemara reached for his dagger, a sharp sting pricked his neck.

Touching it, he found multiple long, slender needles buried in his skin.

Hidden attackers—waiting in ambush.

I let my guard down… thinking about Marian…

“You’re still pulling tricks, I see. Morkan.”

“This isn’t Karsal, little brother,” Morkan said with a shrug and a smile.

“If it were, we’d settle things face to face. But this isn’t a duel.”

“You weren’t exactly fair last time either.”

“Then I’m just being consistent. Besides—did we ever truly care for things like honor?”

The moment the words left his mouth, another volley of poison needles came flying.

Nemara dodged—But from the other direction, more needles rained down, and this time, not all could be avoided.

Even dark elves, resistant as they were to poison, couldn’t shrug off a sustained barrage.

He could already feel his limbs growing numb where the needles struck.

Still, Nemara drew his dagger.

# # #

Zakrion and Sharian were in the same situation.

Suddenly ambushed, they found themselves surrounded.

“You bastards!”

Zakrion shouted, just after crushing a dark elf’s ribcage with a knuckle-duster punch.

“Sister! What the hell is going on!?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Nishira’s making her move.”

Sharian replied, tightening her thread around another enemy’s neck.

“Then that means Brother Drebren is probably under attack too…”

Zakrion suddenly cried out.

“Kirrin! Where’s Kirrin!?”

“No idea. Let’s deal with these first—then we’ll look for her.”

“Damn it… Kirrin has to be safe…”

His concern for Kirrin made it difficult to focus.

Everyone knew Nishira despised her.

In this chaos, it’d be nothing to quietly kill a half-blood girl like her.

“Get out of my way!! I have to find Kirrin!!”

But fighting off this many dark elves alone was too much.

“Gah!”

Zakrion was bleeding from multiple cuts, and his momentum was fading.

Sharian’s thread, stretched too thin across too many foes, had begun to tangle. She was struggling to keep up.

“Sister, I’ll hold them here. You climb a tree and get out of here.”

“If I could, I’d have done it already.”

As they backed into a corner, the dark elves closed in.

“Don’t take it too personally. You might’ve forgotten, being around that human woman, But this—this is how dark elves truly are…”

The enemy trailed off.

His gaze wasn’t on Zakrion or Sharian anymore—But on something behind them.

From the shadows stepped Dian.

“Oh? A human guest?”

The dark elf smiled.

“My apologies. Didn’t mean to involve—”

He didn’t finish.

Dian walked past him.

And as he did, the dark elf’s temple exploded.