CHAPTER 657

【 SORRY, SHE ALREADY KNEW WE COULD REVIVE 】

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Golden motes of light drifted through the grand hall as the valiant elves appeared before Sophia, resembling knights summoned to face their destined end.

She stood frozen in place, still clutching the sacred statue of the Goddess to her chest, unable to fully comprehend what she was seeing.

Then, the elf named Demacia flashed a mischievous grin, his tone teasing as he said with a chuckle,

“How about it? Aren’t you impressed by my good looks?”

Sophia: “…”

Her expression cooled, and whatever flicker of emotion had stirred in her heart moments ago quickly vanished.

“Sir Demacia, why must you always open your mouth?” She said in a deadpan tone.

Seeing her reaction, or the lack thereof, Demacia’s grin froze as he met her cold, indifferent gaze.

Their brief exchange was nothing more than a small interlude amidst the chaos. The moment the elves appeared at the venue, the entire hall erupted into a commotion.

“E-Elves! By the Eternal Lord! Those are elves!”

“How did they get in?”

“Heavens! They’re armed!”

“Where are the guards?! Guards!”

Faced with the imposing presence of the elves, the nobles reacted with a mixture of shock and panic. Some screamed, others stumbled over one another as they tried to flee toward the exits. Within moments, the grand hall dissolved into utter confusion.

Meanwhile, Bishop Santis of the Eternal Church fixed his gaze on the statue in Sophia’s arms, his face grave.

“Elven Summoning… This must be that mercenary summoning ritual that’s recently become popular across the Fertile Plains.”

“Elven mercenary summoning…”

At these words, Duke Lawson’s eyes narrowed slightly.

As the reigning Duke of the Northern Territory, whose domain bordered the Elven Forest, he had already heard rumors about this phenomenon that had begun appearing across the Empire’s border territories and the neighboring kingdoms.

It was said that those who possessed a holy statue of the Goddess of Life and Nature could call upon her in their hour of despair, and the Elven Goddess might then respond to their plea, sending fearless elven warriors to stand before them and aid them in their battle against evil.

Furthermore, in rare cases, one might even summon a ‘Blessed’ elven warrior, that’s been granted divine favor directly by the Goddess herself when the summoner faced demons. And if the summoner were to confront an evil god, there was even a chance that an incarnation of the Goddess would descend to smite the malevolent deity.

Because of this, every faction troubled by the awakening of evil gods had grown desperate to acquire one of these holy summoning statues of the Goddess of Life. However, such idols were said to appear only occasionally on the black market.

No one could imagine how a sheltered noblewoman like Sophia von Wells had managed to obtain one.

Nevertheless, those who had heard of these statues all knew one truth: the elven mercenaries summoned by them were extraordinarily powerful.

As Duke Lawson watched his guards being effortlessly kicked aside by the elves, his expression darkened with irritation.

These guards were by no means weak as most had reached peak Iron-rank, which by all means a respectable strength by the continent’s standards.

“Where is the Knight Order? Seize those elves at once,” the Duke commanded coldly.

At his order, a flood of armored soldiers rushed into the hall. Their silver armor gleamed under the chandeliers, each exuding a dangerous aura.

These men were members of the Imperial Knight Order, and each one was a Silver-ranked guard.

At the same time, several fully armored Golden-ranked knights swiftly moved to protect the nobles, coordinating with the other knights to encircle the elves. These soldiers were the elite of House Lawson, each one a Gold-rank warrior, forming the very foundation of the Duke’s power and influence within the Empire.

But just as these high-ranked warriors prepared to strike, expecting to easily crush the seemingly lower Silver-ranked elves, the latter suddenly flared with radiant golden light.

In an instant, their strength surged, rising swiftly to high-ranking state.

With eyes gleaming and laughter on their lips, they unleashed a cascade of colorful magical enhancements upon themselves, abandoning defense entirely as they charged forward with reckless ferocity.

Steel clashed, and the battle erupted.

Yet the outcome left the nobles horrified.

The attacks of the Duke’s famed Golden Elites and Silver knights struck the elves but were largely nullified—first weakened by layers of magical shields and enchantments, then absorbed by the elves’ radiant divine armor that shimmered with holy light.

Not even a scratch appeared.

In contrast, when the elves counterattacked, they did so with terrifying ease. Laughing fiercely, they cut down the knights with just a single swing.

It was a complete mismatch.

An overwhelming advantage of divine equipment and being bestowed divine favor by the Goddess herself.

Amidst the nobles’ screams, blood splattered across the marble floor. The once-mighty Silver Knights Order fell, their bodies swiftly withering and crumbling into ash, as if their very life essence had been drained away.

Only a few of the Golden guards managed to retreat in time, barely avoiding the elves’ deadly strikes.

“Blessed Ones… They are all Blessed Ones!”

Bishop Santis cried out, his voice trembling between awe and fury.

“By the Eternal Lord! To summon so many Blessed Warriors, each clad in divine artifacts! Does the Goddess of Life not fear provoking His Divine Majesty’s wrath?”

Duke Lawson’s expression grew increasingly grim.

In that mere instant, eight or nine Silver-ranked guards had already fallen. Although the flow of mana across the world had risen sharply in recent years, leading to a surge in new Silver-rank warriors, incurring such a loss was still enough to ignite his fury.

“Where are the rest of the Golden Guards? Summon every last one of them this instant. Bring Lord Conrad as well. I want none of these elves to leave this hall alive!” Duke Lawson shouted angrily.

At his command, several more powerful Golden-ranked knights soon entered the hall, accompanied by a company of Silver-ranked guards, and they surrounded the elves completely.

Thus, chaos ensued once more.

The remaining nobles fled in panic, and the grand hall was reduced to an impromptu battlefield.

The elves only laughed, showing no trace of fear. With reckless abandon, they threw themselves into the fray, cutting down knights and guards alike.

It was, without exaggeration, a massacre.

The Lawson family had only seven Golden-ranked knights participating in this battle, yet even they, the so-called elites, were being overwhelmed. The dozen or so elven ‘Blessed Ones’ before them—each clad in armor and weapons that shone with divine brilliance—fought with such ferocity that even superior technique could not compensate for the vast difference in power.

As for the Silver-ranked guards, who on any other battlefield would have been considered the cream of the crop, they were now reduced to little more than cannon fodder.

The elves slaughtered them effortlessly.

The stench of blood filled the hall, but strangely enough, no corpses could be seen at all. Only scattered suits of empty armor and discarded weapons, lying in dark pools of blood.

—No, that was not quite right.

Even the fallen armor and weapons seemed to be slowly vanishing too, as if being stolen by an unseen force.

At the center of it all, Sophia stood frozen, staring in disbelief.

The elves who had been friendly and warm to her in Grey Haven were now acting like demons unleashed from the very depths of hell, cutting through elite human soldiers without hesitation.

Her mind reeled at the sight.

Meanwhile, the guards, unable to wound the elves and seeing their own ranks rapidly thinning, began to lose all will to fight. Even the presence of the Golden Knights could not hold their morale together.

“M-Monsters! They’re demons!”

“Servants of an evil god! They surely must be servants of an evil god!”

Their terrified cries echoed through the hall as they stumbled backward in panic.

The elves, however, seemed to grow only more exhilarated after seeing their reaction. Their laughter and shouts grew much louder, their attacks wilder, as if they had forgotten their original mission—to rescue Sophia—and instead reveled in the thrill of battle.

The absurdity and brutality of the scene left both Duke Lawson and Bishop Santis utterly speechless.

“T-These… are the elves of the Elven Forest?” the bishop murmured, eyes wide in disbelief.

At that moment, two of the elves seemed to finally noticed the Duke and his ornate attire, realizing at once that he was the enemy’s leader.

With a fierce gleam in their eyes, they roared and charged toward him.

Seeing this, the usually composed and dignified Duke Lawson turned pale with terror.

He instinctively grabbed a nearby guard and shoved him forward as a shield before retreating in panic.

But the elves were faster.

They pierced through the guard in an instant, shredding him to pieces before his body scattered into ashes. Then, after forcing back a Golden knight with a single strike, they lunged straight at the Duke.

However, just as their hands were about to reach him, a thunderous roar echoed through the hall.

“Enough!”

A crushing wave of power filled the room, the pressure as heavy as a mountain.

Immediately, the elves froze, their expressions hardening.

A brilliant light shimmered before the Duke, and from within it emerged an elderly man with long white hair.

His face was lined with deep wrinkles, his figure frail like withered wood, yet his presence radiated immense power. He wore a robe of gold and black, and his sharp, burning eyes glared at the elves with fury.

Seeing him appear, Duke Lawson’s fear turned to relief and awe.

“Lord Conrad!” he exclaimed.

The elves, however, tensed immediately, stepping back and raising their weapons in caution.

“Legendary-rank…” murmured by the ponytail haired female elf, standing beside Sophia, her face grave.

Sophia’s heart tightened as well.

She recognized the man.

Conrad von Lawson.

This old man was House Lawson’s ultimate trump card. He is said to be over two hundred years old, a veteran archmage whose power had already touched the threshold of divinity.

“So, a legendary-rank mage finally came,” Demacia muttered with a mocking grin.

Then, his expression hardened. He let out a short, humorless laugh, reached into his robes, and drew forth a small statue.

He then turned his head toward Sophia, his gaze resolute and solemn.

“Miss Sophia, I will try to hold him off. Take my companions with you and leave this place at once.”

With that, he let out a roar and charged forward, clutching the statue tightly as he rushed toward the archmage who had just appeared.

Sophia could only stare, momentarily stunned by his sudden act of bravery.

The other elves, however, looked on with strange expressions.

Just as Demacia charged forward, Bishop Santis noticed the effigy of the Lord of Darkness and Shadows in his hands and expression shifted sharply.

“Lord Conrad! Beware of that statue!” he cried out.

The elderly archmage, Conrad, narrowed his eyes and pointed his staff lightly toward the oncoming elf.

In that instant, the ground beneath Demacia’s feet turned soft like quicksand.

With a startled grunt, he sank completely into the earth. A split second later, several jagged spikes of stone burst upward from the floor, piercing through his armor with brutal ease and impaling him like a hedgehog.

Demacia’s face went pale. He coughed up a mouthful of blood as the statue he had been carrying slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor.

“D-Dammit…” he muttered weakly.

“Demacia!” a few male players from Heart of Nature cried out in exaggerated grief.

Demacia turned his head with great effort, forcing a smile as he looked back at them—especially at the half-elven girl.

With a trembling hand, he raised his thumb, imitating the gesture of a robotic cyborg from a certain science fiction film.

“Sorry… I’ll… go on ahead…”

“Demacia!” the same players shouted again, continuing their melodramatic act.

“Cough… cough…”

Demacia let out a few timely coughs, spitting up more blood as his face grew even paler.

Yet the half-elven girl, watching all of this, seemed to be entirely unmoved. Her gaze remaining calm and cold.

…Hm?

Seeing Sophia’s indifferent expression, Demacia’s heart skipped a beat.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a new message in their chat group from Jasmine:

“Stop pretending dumbass. I already told Sophia back on the ship that we can revive.”

Demacia: “…”

The male players: “…”

“Cough… cough…”

Demacia spat out another mouthful of blood, his face twitching in embarrassment.

Then, with a dramatic tilt of his head, he “died.”

Meanwhile, Conrad, the legendary archmage who had just effortlessly sent Demacia “back” to the World Tree, turned his cold gaze toward the remaining elves.

He raised his staff once more, summoning an immense surge of magical power that began to fill the hall with a terrifying pressure.

“This isn’t good! Run!” one of the elves shouted.

They quickly grabbed Sophia and sprinted toward a shattered window left from the earlier battle.

But the archmage was faster. Before they could escape, waves of frost spread across the floor, rising into thick ice walls that sealed every possible route.

“Surrender yourselves,” the old mage said coolly.

The elves, however, showed no trace of panic.

They exchanged quick glances, nodded to one another, then each pulled a horn from their cloaks and blew into it in unison.

A deep, resonant sound echoed far and wide.

“Hm?”

Conrad frowned slightly.

The next moment, panicked screams erupted from outside the hall.

“A dragon! A dragon!”

The cries came from the nobles outside who had managed to flee.

Then, with a thunderous roar that shook the night sky, an enormous creature tore the roof from the hall.

Dust and debris rained down as the ceiling vanished, revealing the deep expanse of stars above. A massive black dragon, fierce and majestic, loomed over them, its body stretching nearly eighty meters long, its wings unfurling like a storm.

Its mere presence alone radiated overwhelming power.

“A legendary-rank dragon…”

The old archmage’s expression darkened immediately.

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