CHAPTER 174: THE WORLD SIX THOUSAND YEARS AGO [2]

Kael was a good person from the heart.

Even though pure-blooded elves despise and hate the halves...

...Even though her mother died because of them, she couldn’t kill an innocent person.

Part of the reason was also that she couldn’t kill a full-blood elf unless it’s self-defense.

"Why do they even make halves when they don’t like them?" Kael said, looking back at Velyrian who followed her.

"It’s so fucking annoying when they call themselves the children of nature but can’t control their lust."

Velyrian blinked, surprised at how blunt Kael was.

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again.

What could he even say to that?

"...You’re not wrong," he muttered instead.

"Those fuckers just throw us away." Kael scoffed. "We are too elf for humans, too human for elves."

Velyrian let out a sigh as he looked around the place.

They were walking down the cracked stone path, which soon turned into a narrow trail guarded by trees and moss-covered ruins.

The forest seemed to lean in closer the farther they went, as if it were protecting something.

Eventually, they reached a ridge.

From the top, Velyrian could see the city.

It wasn’t a city in the traditional sense, there were no huge walls, no grand towers. Instead, it was built into the forest itself.

Homes made from living wood curved around massive trees.

Bridges of vine and stone connecting them high above the forest floor.

Lights illuminated softly from hollow lanterns powered by mana stones.

It looked alive and strangely beautiful.

Velyrian stared, stunned. "This... is amazing."

Kael didn’t look impressed. "It’s home. Nothing more."

They began descending the slope, approaching a guarded entryway made from woven branches and reinforced steel.

Two sentries stepped forward—both half-elves, judging by their ears.

Kael raised a hand.

"He’s with me. Found him near the ruins. Says he wants to stay."

The guards looked Velyrian over with suspicion, then nodded once and stepped aside.

As they walked in, Velyrian couldn’t help but glance around.

There were children laughing on rope swings, vendors selling glowing fruit and shimmering cloth.

A man carved mana crystals into rings while humming a soft tune.

It was peaceful.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Kael asked, glancing back at him. "Were you thrown out of your house or something?"

Velyrian just nodded as he didn’t prepare any reason.

"Hmm, looks like your own people didn’t like you." Kael chuckled softly. "Must be hard."

Velyrian didn’t respond. Instead, he asked. "Are there no elves here?"

"No. Not now." Kael replied, shaking her head. "They will come soon though."

"...Why?"

"Because even halves, Lady Ieril doesn’t let us go." She replied, her voice low. "We are still ’important’ to her."

She didn’t seem to believe her own words.

"Where is Lady Ieril now?" Velyrian asked, trying not to sound too suspicious.

"She must be taking care of rest of servants of the unnamed God, or like she calls him ’skinless.’"

Velyrian frowned, as he knew little about them. "Can you explain a little?"

Kael gave him a strange look, her bronze eyes narrowing.

"You’re an elf and you don’t know about the Skinless?" she asked. "Did you live under a rock or something?"

"Sort of," Velyrian muttered. "Just... humor me."

Kael sighed and turned her gaze ahead, leading him down a side path that curved around a large tree.

"People used to worship them long ago. Before the Elven Queen even existed. The Skinless were said to be ancient beings."

She paused for a moment before turning her voice lower.

"I heard, Lady Ieril makes their loved ones dance over their dead bodies as some sort of ritual."

Velyrian frowned. "Ritual?"

"That is the only way to stop them from regenerating." She nodded her head. "They are terrifying beings. That’s why Lady Ieril decided to liberate them."

Velyrian carefully asked. "What about goddess Alista?"

Kael slowed her steps.

At the mention of the name Alista, the air itself seemed to grow colder.

"She’s worse," Kael finally said, her voice tight. "People think Lady Ieril is cruel. But at least she doesn’t pretend."

Velyrian blinked. "What do you mean?"

Kael turned to face him, her expression hard now.

"Goddess of Desire, right? That’s what they call her. Alista promises peace, beauty, love... But it’s a lie."

She drew in a few deep breaths to calm herself down.

"She bends people’s minds until they want to die for her. Until they forget who they are."

Velyrian felt a chill run down his spine.

"She can do that?"

"She does that," Kael said flatly. "That’s how she builds her cities. Makes people adore her. Makes them fight wars they don’t even remember starting."

Velyrian lowered his gaze.

’At the very least I am tasked to fight against an evil tyrant.’

But thinking about it again, Ieril isn’t any better.

A bitter smile crept on his face as Kael came to a halt.

"Take this." She said, pointing at the simple house. "The elf who lived here committed suicide not long ago. It’s free to use now."

Velyrian had so many questions to ask, but he kept them to himself.

With a tired sigh, he opened the door. ’At least, I would be safe here.’

As if to slap his face... the moment he stepped in, the world changed.

Velyrian blinked as he found himself inside an enormous room.

He panickingly looked around until his gaze landed on an enormous hand with eight fingers.

Beside her was a young lady, sitting on a chair wearing a priest outfit.

But what took his breath away was the tall lady standing below the eight-fingered hand.

Her hair was silver, flowing like silk down her back, and her dress shimmered like moonlight on still water.

She didn’t wear armor. She didn’t need to.

Her eyes alone could make empires kneel.

Velyrian’s breath hitched in his throat.

This wasn’t just some high-ranking priestess... She was—.

’...Ieril of Dawn.’

The first elf that was sent by the Golden Sun.

"An elf that I never remember making." Ieril said, her voice holding power. "Who are you, elf?"

Velyrian stammered. "M-making?"

"Yes, making." She nodded. "I made the Sun elf, Moon elf, and high elves with my own hand... yet I don’t remember making you."

"I... I."

Velyrian was too scared to say anything at this point.

"You can’t be descendants of any." She continued, walking towards him. "I would remember your face..."

Velyrian stumbled back instinctively, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Ieril’s presence pressed on his chest like a mountain.

The air around her shimmered with golden heat, bending the light, making it hard to breathe.

Every step she took echoed louder than the last, even though her feet made no sound.

"I don’t like things I don’t understand," Ieril said quietly.

She wasn’t yelling, and she didn’t need to.

Her voice was calm, controlled, and terrifying.

The young priestess beside the eight-fingered hand simply watched, unmoving, like a doll carved from marble.

But her expression changed when the eight-fingered hand moved.

Even Ieril looked back, as the hand hadn’t moved in years.

It began to move and make a gesture.

The young priestess fell on her knees as Ieril looked at her.

"What is the divine message it conveyed, Lady Natasha?"

Ieril asked, her voice calm yet curious.

Natasha looked back at her, joy clear on her face.

"He is the one, lady!" She shook with a trembling voice.

"The Chosen One."