Phey is an elf.
That fact was unchangeable, no matter how one looked at it.
Just as humans cannot become elves, nor green beings can become human or elves, Phey could not change the fact that they were an elf.
Moreover, Phey detested this fact immensely.
Phey’s indigo eyes naturally drifted towards the past, reminiscing over the trails they had left behind and the countless lives they had passed by.
The scenery that came to mind was of the northern continent.
It was the borderland between the Vida Kingdom and the Calus Empire.
People generally referred to it as the “Bandits’ Forest,” a dark and harsh woodland.
This recalled the time when elves were captured as slaves.
Although such occurrences have decreased recently, largely thanks to Phey,
Before Phey became renowned as a fighting elf, elves were among the most popular slave commodities.
Elves do not need rest.
They don’t require food either, and they never resist orders given to them.
Yet, they possess strength comparable to that of an adult human male at all times.
Thus, they made excellent workers.
Furthermore, elves are an eternal race.
A race that forever remains in the form of children.
Because of this, some nobles took elves as concubines.
Elves who wouldn’t run away and would happily follow with just a little kindness.
Such elves were traded at high prices to nobles seeking fleeting pleasures.
Since elves eternally maintain the appearance of beautiful young girls,
Those with such preferences almost invariably kept elves as concubines.
Most importantly, since elves lacked ambition for power, how convenient they were.
Nobles with such inclinations, who openly displayed their tastes, were usually powerful enough that their preferences didn’t go unnoticed.
As expected, owning elf slaves soon became a means to flaunt wealth and power.
Consequently, the popularity of elf slaves surged rapidly.
Nobles owned elf slaves to showcase their authority.
Even if that wasn’t the case, elves were always in demand.
Elf body parts were popular materials used in experiments at magic towers.
The regenerative abilities of elves made them excellent experimental subjects.
Moreover, the very eternity of elves became a commodity.
Old and sick but still powerful individuals believed that eating elves could steal their eternity and extend their own lifespans.
Many elves ended up on dining tables after being cooked.
Sometimes rumors about cooking methods led to the creation of various bizarre elf dishes.
Phey was also in such a situation.
Phey was captured and had pieces of their flesh cut off repeatedly over a long period.
While barely kept alive, they were repeatedly mutilated.
Primarily, their legs were cut off.
The nobleman who captured Phey was a battle enthusiast who believed that eating elf leg meat could restore his vitality.
Thus, Phey’s legs were severed countless times, perhaps hundreds.
It was only natural that Phey eventually chose to escape from someone who caused them nothing but pain. Even elves would flee from such torment.
After escaping, Phey encountered slave hunters.
They were veterans who had captured and sold hundreds of elves, commissioned directly by a noble.
With weapons in hand, their eyes burning with greed, they pursued and cornered Phey.
The problem was that Phey was an elf.
Even after fleeing, Phey’s instincts did not allow them to do more.
Phey was deceived by the honeyed words of the slave hunters and lectured by experts who had captured hundreds of elves.
Escaping was wrong, and their master was saddened by Phey’s actions.
Words that non-elves might ignore but that elves were overly sensitive to.
Phey stood frozen, staring at them.
They held daggers in their hands.
Once caught, they intended to sever Phey’s legs and take them back.
They seemed to feel that cutting off limbs wasn’t cruel since elves wouldn’t die from it.
Phey trembled with fear at what was about to happen.
They wanted to escape.
But they couldn’t.
Because elves were such a peaceful race.
A race created by nature and creation to be the most harmonious species, elves.
Their instinct for conflict had been suppressed, they could not comprehend evil deeds, and they preserved an untainted purity.
And thus, they could not accept anything else.
Nature and creation, fearing that violence against their eternity would bring disaster, had created them this way.
Therefore, elves could only submit to mere words and blades.
They intended to make an example of Phey by cutting off their legs and taking them back, and Phey knew this well.
If Phey were an ordinary elf, that’s exactly what would have happened.
Certainly, their legs would have been cut off, and they would have been dragged away repeatedly.
If Phey were an ordinary elf.
But Phey was not an ordinary elf.
They had already had their legs cut off hundreds of times.
They had endured thousands of pains.
Through these numerous regenerations, Phey’s instincts must have been gradually eroded and disappeared.
The slave hunter who approached to punish them had unknowingly lost their dagger.
“Uh?”
Phey used the dagger like a skilled chef slicing their own legs.
Blood spurted from the severed throat, and the hunter fell clutching his throat with a bewildered expression.
As the hunter fell backward, more hunters revealed themselves.
Phey read their malice and moved accordingly.
An emptier, more expressionless elf than usual.
The noble who bought Phey because he liked their expressionless demeanor, believing it hinted at a stronger aura.
The elf girl who had been eaten by him multiple times transcended her instincts.
The trigger was long forgotten. Trivial emotions had faded from memory.
In the end, Phey stood amidst the countless decapitated bodies of hunters.
The sensation and warmth of the blood covering their body were vivid.
It was a long-forgotten warmth.
Though it might seem surprising that this blood fills humans and drives them, Phey felt nothing.
In fact, they felt even less than expected.
Among the hunters, there were those who had been kind to Phey, and others who seemed troubled by capturing them out of conscience.
Others leered with base desires.
But most were expressionless, treating it as just another job.
They acted as though Phey’s feelings and thoughts meant nothing; they received money and did their work.
Phey found something to emulate in their attitude.
Like they worked for money, Phey returned the suffering they had endured.
Dropping the dagger, leaving the corpses behind, Phey left.
What followed was mechanical.
Phey intentionally allowed themselves to be captured.
No one guarded against elves.
The noble who sought to regain vitality by eating Phey’s leg meat died with a slit throat.
His proud skills with a spear were easily crushed.
Simply evading through the movements Phey used to leap between trees, they avoided contact.
In the end, the dagger slipped into the noble’s neck.
The great-grandfather of the now-extinct Worpol Viscount family died this way.
Afterward, Phey repeated the same process.
Phey was captured.
They easily stole a dagger.
And wiped out several noble families.
Everyone feared this mysterious assassin, but no one knew the culprit.
It seemed no one thought an elf could kill people.
Since only specialized elf hunters were targeted, the market declined.
From then on, only those desperate for money or ignorant of the situation ventured into the elf slave trade.
Ignorant ones who mistook it for an opportunity to make big money.
Phey killed them without hesitation.
There wasn’t much reason. They simply hadn’t inflicted enough suffering yet, so they killed again and again.
That’s why Phey was initially surprised when they first met Aslan.
He initially tried to negotiate with the slave hunters.
When refused, he drew his sword.
Without malice, he exterminated the hunters and buried them with a deeply sorrowful expression.
While freeing the elves, he wore a melancholy look.
Phey found this peculiar.
Similar to themselves, yet slightly different.
Capable of killing people without malice like themselves, yet distinctly different afterward.
Phey was curious about the man and followed the path he took.
Still unclear why.
But now, Phey realized they could not leave Aslan.
Indigo eyes, returning from the past, gazed at Aslan.
Aslan was gathered with his group, looking down at a map provided by Tiyalmisof.
Phey traveled through Geladridion following this peculiar man.
During this journey, while observing the man, they began to focus solely on him.
The thought of repaying suffering with equal suffering had long been forgotten.
Where Phey’s indigo gaze rested, Aslan was earnestly discussing attack strategies with the group.
Whether to dive from the air, approach from a distance after teleportation, or teleport directly onto the ground.
Various opinions sparked diverse discussions and perspectives.
Phey observed Aslan from a step back.
The man, illuminating his emerald-green eyes, traced his finger across the map.
Phey coveted everything about him.
Desire was inevitable.
Though sometimes satisfied just being by Aslan’s side, other times they desired more.
This desire even summoned darker impulses within.
A black impulse resembling a blade stirring inside.
Phey scanned the direction where this impulse pointed with their eyes.
There stood the group.
Angie, Lumel, Ereta, Lewena.
The group that accomplished what Phey couldn’t alongside Aslan.
A desire to harm them.
Which they restrained because they shouldn’t.
Barely suppressing it, enduring.
Phey endured like when their legs were cut off and eaten.
They had to endure.
As Phey silently gazed with faint anguish, Aslan suddenly flinched and turned his head.
Their eyes met. Just that alone brought joy.
“Phey?”
Emerald concern rose.
Recalling Phey’s unusual state from earlier, Aslan asked worriedly.
“Are you okay?”
Other members naturally turned to look at Phey.
“Is something wrong with your condition, kid?”
Tiamat wagged its tail and asked.
“What’s gotten into you?”
Angie questioned, then turned her golden gaze toward her companions after a moment of silence.
“How about we take a break? Anyway, if that guy plans something, we’d just have to wait until we catch up.”
Rough words, but the intent was clear.
Angie cared about Phey.
“Indeed. We could take a break before setting off. Considering our opponent’s level, it would be wise to prepare thoroughly.”
Aslan nodded at this rough concern, recalling Phey’s condition and spoke.
Phey could feel the group’s gaze directed at them.
Phey could sense the trust, belief, and kindness aimed at them.
That wasn’t.
Anything ‘ordinary,’ like the countless things Phey experienced before meeting Aslan.
So, Phey had to endure.
Even if they didn’t, Phey didn’t want to destroy what was precious to Aslan.
Nor did they wish to cause Aslan pain.
Additionally, they didn’t want to betray the goodwill extended to them.
So, Phey, as always, acted.
They smiled brightly. That smile alone eased the group’s worries.
“I’m fine.”
Phey could endure.
For themselves.
And for Aslan.
Thus, despite the black desires Phey faced, they did not mistake where to aim their sword.
Following Aslan’s wishes, once again, Phey aimed their sword at Aslan’s enemies.
The next day, a portal of spatial teleportation opened above Beli Fortress.
