Chapter 285: Decisive Battle (1)

High elf. Age stopped counting after 200.

Undeniably regarded as the most outstanding mage among the youth of her race.

Tap.

The moment she landed, she looked around. The metallic stench of blood hung in the air.

‘Many have died.’

Because of Fear, numerous mages who carried the future of her race were annihilated.

They tried to defend themselves with magic, but it wasn’t enough.

Kang Geom-Ma’s sword was a novel technique that even sliced through spells.

But that didn’t matter to her. As long as she survived, high elves would not vanish from history.

‘Even after so many deaths, many still live.’

The vitality of high elves was tenacious. They weren’t immortal, but they were eternally young.

At roughly 200 years, she had only recently completed the coming-of-age ceremony of her kind.

And those who live that long learn to survive in any environment.

Those who were banished centuries ago due to internal conflict—the so-called “dark elves”—had prospered with pride.

‘We high elves will attain even greater glory in the human world.’

A greedy smile formed at the corners of her lips. If her performance stood out, Lord Kuarne would grant her land. She clenched her fist tightly.

“Kill them, kill them!”

“Form up! Take cover after each spell, then push forward after a second!”

All around, the clash of steel and magic blended violently. The demons generally cast spells, and the humans desperately defended.

Yet, the heroes’ defense was astonishingly firm.

Even as limbs were blown off, they held their shields to the last breath. Some died standing, weapons in hand.

In their final moments, they whispered parting words to comrades.

“Remember me…”

“Damn it, Joseph the Swift. I’ll remember you!”

Those who witnessed such valor were filled with courage and continued fighting.

Die and die again. An endless cycle.

The boundary between life and death, light and dark, blurred.

The high elf’s lips curled into a wicked smile.

The spectacle she had longed to see lay before her.

Her body burned with excitement.

“Yes. The more they despair, the more fun it is. If they just waited quietly to die, it wouldn’t be any fun. Come on, fight harder, you miserable humans!”

Suddenly, her long ears twitched like antennas.

She sensed a presence. The high elf turned her head.

Step.

An elderly, frail elf approached. With so few high elves, all faces were familiar. Yet she had never seen this one before.

‘Oh… don’t tell me…’

She quickly bowed.

“Are you an elder?”

This was no ordinary elder. He had to be at least a council member. Elders usually resided in the temple of Nephilim and were rarely seen.

“……”

The old elf glanced at her briefly, then turned his gaze to the battlefield.

‘They fight better than I expected.’

Demons snapped their fingers to cast magic, humans shouted in response.

Human blood was red, demon blood blue.

On the ground, it mixed into a violet slurry.

‘Blood mixes so easily…’

Yet those whose blood spilled could not mix, and were killing each other.

“…Haa.”

He sighed with conflicted feelings. The young high elf cautiously looked up.

She was convinced he was an elder.

His well-nourished flesh and skin, glistening as if oiled, confirmed it.

“Is something troubling you, elder?”

“To kill or not to kill. That is the dilemma.”

The old elf murmured as if savoring the words. The high elf smiled coquettishly.

“Don’t you thirst for blood after being cooped up in the temple? The great Lord Kuarne has granted us this opportunity. Drink blood and quench your thirst!”

“The benevolent Kuarne, you say…?”

The elder looked up to the sky. There sat Kuarne in lotus position, as if waiting for everything to ripen.

‘That bastard doesn’t seek war. His gaze looks beyond this conflict.’

He turned back to the high elf and asked again.

“Do you truly believe in the benevolent Kuarne?”

“Of course! He’s opened the path to the human world to liberate our race! And not just that—he’s promised land based on merit after the war ends! He’ll also eradicate the traitors among us! Like dragons and dark elves, for instance.”

The high elf clenched her teeth in fury.

‘Dark elves.’

That name struck a particular nerve.

Other demons grouped them with dark elves just for sharing the term “elf,” and so they sharpened their blades.

Her goal was to sever the head of Heavenly Sword and erase that stigma.

“Well then. Elder, I’ll go join my brothers. May Kuarne’s grace be with you.”

The elder gave a slight nod.

“Thank you. Thanks to you, I’ve made up my mind.”

Hearing this, she quickly departed. Her steps were light. She was eager to bathe in crimson blood. While others saw this as a life-or-death struggle, to her it was just a walk in the park.

Whirl!

A sudden jolt struck her gut. A spurt of blood rose in her throat.

Her eyes widened as she looked down.

There was a hole of scorched air in her chest. Fire boiled around the rim, forming a circular edge. Through it, the battlefield lay visible. The old elf she’d just spoken to approached calmly.

“Until I spoke to you, I was still torn on which side to join. Honestly, I was leaning toward the demons.”

Her knees buckled. The old elf looked at her coldly.

“But you made it clear. Even on the demon side, Kuarne would eventually execute me. So now I have no choice. I’ll join the opposite side.”

“You… you… bastard… who are you…?”

The high elf forced out her voice. As if waiting for that, the elder showed a savage smile.

“Rog. The leader of the dark elves you so despise.”

Rog’s next move sealed the high elf’s fate. She collapsed, pink intestines spilling out. Her gaze lost focus, her breath faded. Only then did the screams and chaos reach her long ears.

“Phew. So this is how it ends.”

Rog exhaled and gestured with his chin. That was the signal.

Dark elves hidden among the high elves launched an ambush on the demons.

Masters of stealth, they struck precisely at vulnerable points.

“Kyah!”

Having fed on fortified soy meat, their skin was as pale as milk.

Outwardly, they looked nearly identical to high elves. Only with close inspection could one see subtle differences. But in the chaos of battle, no one had time for such scrutiny.

The demons, drunk on bloodlust, were thrown into confusion. Enemy and ally blended. High elves who’d fought beside them now stabbed them from behind.

From the front, heroes advanced furiously. Demon eyes darted wildly.

The front line had split. They had to watch both front and rear.

“Damn pointy-eared rats! Betrayed us in the end!”

An orc shouted as he smashed a high elf’s skull with a mace. Blood sprayed his protruding tusks.

Crunch!

A brutal blow. Orcs and elves had never gotten along. This was a temporary, fragile alliance.

“W-wait! We’re not the traitors…!”

The orc crushed another head. His eyes, now blood-red, puffed steam from his nose as he roared.

“GRAAAAH! Pointy-ears! I’ll kill you all!”

That orc was the first. The others followed, hunting long ears like a whack-a-mole game, smashing skulls left and right.

“Damn it, you idiots!”

With no choice, the high elves fought back. If they didn’t, they’d be slaughtered by those stupid pigs.

“Who… did this?”

An old high elf glared furiously, scanning for the instigator. Then he saw figures with their ears wrapped in cloth.

“Them!”

Dark elves. They wore earmuffs issued by the association to hide their ears from orcs.

The old elf tried to shout. But a crude mace crushed his skull. Teeth flew, pressure popped out his eyes. He died instantly.

One of his eyeballs rolled to a stop at Rog’s feet. Though the optic nerve had snapped, Rog’s mocking smirk seemed to stare back.

“You’ve got to know who to side with.”

Dark elves. Born traitors. Today was no exception.

***

Recruiting the dark elves was a personal gamble. Their history of betrayal is well known.

As far as I know, that’s why they were expelled from among the elves.

Because of this, Director Sung tried to dissuade me until the very day before the war.

They can’t be trusted. They’re a variable. We should lock them in the dungeons. That was his argument.

But I insisted. Even if we gathered all the heroes, the war wasn’t in our favor. In that case, better to take a gamble. I’d figure out later whether it yielded fortune or poison.

It might’ve seemed like an irresponsible decision. But so what?

From the start, the demons were never a united front.

I took advantage of that fact, and in the end, my bet paid off. The results proved it. I made the right choice.

Their alliance is like a time bomb. All it takes is a spark to light the fuse.

Clop clop.

Hooves struck the ground. A group of centaurs kicked up dust as they charged furiously.

“Hyah!”

They were, in short, the demon cavalry. Mobility was their pride.

Being trampled by them would be like being ground into mincemeat.

But when it came to speed, they had no edge over me.

I kicked hard off the ground and accelerated, charging straight at them.

The centaurs paused momentarily. They hadn’t expected me to charge directly.

But only for a moment. Instead of stopping, they neighed louder and quickened their pace, accepting the challenge.

Just before impact, I flung myself backward as if lying down, sliding across the ground. I lowered my posture to the limit, and the hooves whizzed just inches above me. Hundreds of hooves thundered overhead.

The dust blurred vision, but it didn’t matter. With “mental dominion,” I maximized my senses.

While sliding, I slipped into the midst of the group. They reacted half a second too late. They couldn’t control the inertia of their charge.

I sprang up suddenly, using my core like a spring, and simultaneously gripped Murasame’s cord tightly.

I drew an arc along the ground in the shape of a full moon.

The blade struck the hind legs like a venomous viper. Screams erupted and blood sprayed like fountains.

Neigh!

Their front hooves rose. Losing their back legs, they lost balance and toppled over.

About thirty fell. Enough to tangle up their advance.

Some, with severed front legs, thrashed and created chaos within their own ranks. It was like watching wild horses possessed.

“Stab! Stab them!”

They tried to respond, clumsily. But in the crossfire, their own bodies got in each other’s way. The disorder was so great it would take time to regroup. That’s the great weakness of cavalry.

I drew Eternal Frost from my waist.

Took a short breath. Then I lunged at the downed foals like a tiger. The blade gleamed like a fang under the sun’s light.

Slash!

The massacre continued. My body soaked in blood. The centaurs were cleaved into polar halves—half human, half horse.

The more I killed, the more alive my soul felt.

My heart pounded fiercely.

My blood boiled. Today, the sashimi blade felt especially at home in my hands.

The more blood it absorbed, the more vitality it exuded.

Ah, truly, sashimi is a knife made for cutting flesh.