Chapter 433

The houses were shabby, the streets narrow.

The roofs looked especially dull, and an unseen shadow seemed to hang over the whole district.

At a glance, Zeon understood where they were.

It was El Harun’s equivalent of Neo Seoul’s slums.

Neria asked Jupiro:

“What is this place?”

“This is Uron-ga.”

“Uron-ga?”

“A district named in honor of Saint Uron.”

At the mention of Uron, Jupiro’s face shone with respect.

And no wonder—Uron was one of the most revered elves in El Harun.

Here, where distrust between humans and other races ran deep, he alone gave love and blessing without discrimination.

As Zeon guessed, this was where El Harun’s poor gathered.

Not everyone here lived in equality.

Depending on race, depending on power, lives differed vastly.

Those without strength, without kin, orphans, the sick at death’s door—all drifted here, to Uron-ga.

The Uron Jupiro spoke of was an elf.

A high elf, ancient, who had crossed from Kurayan.

His abilities were exceptional, his character noble.

Though he could have lived in comfort near the World Tree with his kin, he chose instead to dwell here among the lowest, spending decades caring for them.

He took in orphans, healed the sick, and dedicated his life to service.

Children raised under his care grew into fine adults and returned to their districts.

The sick met their end without suffering.

All respected Uron.

Not only the poor in the slums—everyone in El Harun.

Neria asked:

“How old is this Uron?”

“No less than three hundred years, I’d say.”

“Three hundred? Quite long-lived.”

“He crossed over from Kurayan.”

Elves outlived humans, but not by so much.

Two hundred to two hundred fifty years was the limit.

Three hundred years made Uron exceptionally long-lived, even for an elf.

Neria pointed toward a certain house.

“Is that his home?”

It looked ordinary—no different from the others.

Only a little larger, a little cleaner. Nothing more.

Yet Neria had picked it out precisely.

Jupiro stared, startled.

“How did you know?”

“So it is.”

“Have you been here before?”

“No. It just seemed so.”

Her eyes, fixed on Uron’s house, were cold.

Jupiro felt a chill run down his spine.

Neria began walking toward it.

“I must see him.”

“Wait. Stop. You can’t go barging in as you please.”

Jupiro tried to block her, but she ignored him and kept walking.

At last he grabbed her wrist.

“I told you to stop. You have no right to enter.”

“I do!”

“…What?”

“I inherited Derod’s work.”

“Derod? Did you just say—Derod?”

Jupiro’s eyes widened at the name he hadn’t expected.

“That’s why I have the right, child!”

“What was your relation to Derod? Don’t tell me you—”

“Silence!”

In an instant, Jupiro’s mouth closed.

“Mmff!”

An unseen force locked his jaw and froze his limbs. He couldn’t move.

Effortlessly neutralizing Jupiro, Neria turned to Zeon.

“Will you stop me too, Zeon?”

“No.”

“You already knew, didn’t you? Who I am?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you tell them?”

“Because I’m a stranger here as well.”

“A stranger? …Such a lonely word.”

A lonely look crossed her face.

Zeon met her gaze squarely.

“Only here am I a stranger. In Neo Seoul, I’m a citizen in full. I even have a home there.”

“I want to see it. Neo Seoul.”

“Then go.”

“Can I?”

“What’s difficult about it? You just go.”

“For one who belongs to this world, perhaps not difficult.”

“Neria.”

“You don’t have to comfort me. I know well enough—I’m like an impurity in this world.”

She smiled at Zeon.

And the loneliness on her face vanished.

She walked on toward Uron’s house.

Zeon watched her back for a moment, then silently followed.

There was no gate at Uron’s house.

He had never built one, so anyone could enter freely.

In the yard, children were playing—elves, beastkin, even humans.

Their clothes were shabby, but their faces bloomed with laughter.

At the center of the yard sat an old elf, resting in a wicker chair, watching them with a kind smile.

That elf was Uron.

“Heh-heh.”

Sensing visitors, Uron turned his gaze toward the entryway.

Two figures were stepping in—a human man, and a dark elf with skin shining like black pearl.

The man barely registered.

What filled his vision was the woman: the dark elf.

Thick black hair, gray eyes, and skin like night.

Uron’s eyelids twitched. Neria noticed.

“You look excited.”

“What nonsense is this? I’ve never seen you before, and yet you spit such words?”

His voice rose, sharp, and the children stopped playing in fright. The source of this content ɪs novᴇlfire.net

Awkwardly, Uron told them:

“Forgive me. You little ones, go over there.”

“Yes!”

“Alright.”

Though startled, they obeyed without complaint.

As Neria approached, she said softly:

“Pure children. So you haven’t touched them, yet?”

“How dare you—!”

Uron rose sharply from his chair, and a wave of pressure burst from him.

Humans weakened with age, but elves and beastkin grew only stronger.

Three hundred years had made Uron’s aura overwhelming.

But Neria’s expression did not waver as she stepped closer.

She asked:

“Do you remember Brulla?”

“…How do you know that name?”

Uron’s eyes twitched again.

“She was beautiful. Especially her eyes—blue jewels that sparkled when she smiled. Everyone loved that child.”

“I don’t know what you’re babbling. If you don’t stop, I won’t hold back.”

“Won’t hold back?”

In answer, Uron lifted his hand.

From the house came several large, muscular men.

Zeon recognized them at once.

Much larger-boned than humans, with feral eyes—

“Beastkin.”

They surrounded Zeon and Neria.

Neria wrinkled her nose.

“The stench of beasts. Do you never wash?”

“Best leave while I say it kindly, dark elf!” roared the largest of them.

But Neria ignored him, staring at Uron.

“Beastkin, in an elf’s home? Truly the world has changed.”

“What are you saying, dark elf?”

“You don’t know? How filthy must your deeds be, that elves need beastkin to clean up after you?”

Uron’s face hardened like stone.

The benevolent mask was gone. His features were now steeped in killing intent.

Neria laughed.

“Yes. That suits you. Beasts should wear beastly faces.”

“State your name, dark elf!”

“My name is Neria.”

“Neria. What is your relation to Brulla?”

“None at all.”

“Then why speak her name? Do you know what became of her?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You coveted her, then threw her to your half-blooded beasts to erase the evidence.”

“Enough!”

Uron’s shout shook the yard like thunder.

He turned to one of the beastkin.

“Activate the barrier.”

“Yes, elder!”

At once, a dark-blue shield enveloped the house.

A cold smile touched Neria’s lips.

“The guilty always hide behind veils.”

“Whoever you are, you will not leave here alive.”

“Killing me here will cause no small problem.”

“Ha! Who would blink over one dark elf’s death? This place is my kingdom.”

He spread his arms wide.

And it was no lie.

Uron-ga was his kingdom.

An elf of three hundred years, honored and admired.

Elf and beastkin alike revered him.

They trusted him, never questioned his rule here.

He was absolute.

High elves protected him. Beastkin feared to touch him.

And so—

“You are fallen. Your virtue warped into desire. Your pure heart left only malice.”

“What do you know, whelp of a dark elf? This world has no hope.”

“Hope?”

“Yes! Look at this. We crossed to Earth expecting paradise. Instead, wastelands buried in sand awaited us. We built this city, yes—but that is all. We are uninvited guests in this world. Del Roa and the council babble of restoration, but we all know it’s a lie. And even if the world is restored—who among us will live to see it?”

“And that justifies your crimes?”

“What crimes have I committed? Madwoman, you speak nonsense.”

“You lured children—Brulla among them. You seduced them with honeyed words. Then, to hide your sins, you fed them to the depths…”

“Enough!”

He roared again, but Neria pressed on:

“…to the spawn of your crime.”

“Wretch!”

Uron hurled a massive fireball at her.

Kwooooom!

The searing flame smashed into her.

Watching her engulfed, Uron said:

“That is the price of a reckless tongue. For elf or human, ruin always begins with the mouth.”

He was sure his spell had injured her gravely.

He was, after all, the equal of an A-rank awakened among humans.

Each strike carried terrible force.

But from within the blaze, Neria’s voice rang clear:

“You will pay for your sins, old elf!”

Uron’s eyes flew wide.

From the flames emerged an impossible sight.

“A… snake?”

A vast serpent writhed within the fire, its phantom coils filling his vision.