Chapter 318: Chapter 315: Foreign Aid Takes the Stage
Meanwhile, the resistance movement on El Island was both in full swing and on the verge of collapse.
This was no contradiction. First, reports of victory poured in from all across the island, from the countryside to the cities. It seemed as if the Kingdom had abandoned El Island overnight, handing it back to the Gray Elves without a fight.
But this was no act of conscience. The administrators and Lobster Soldiers had withdrawn to the coastal ports to form a defensive line, and all harbors were completely blockaded by the Royal Fleet. Any Gray Elf who drew near was met with a merciless assault.
Only after taking over the warehouses did the Gray Elves discover that the food supplies had long been shipped to the Istani mainland or elsewhere. This meant the widespread starvation would continue.
Even if the Rebel Army could hold onto the fruits of their victory, those fruits were withered and bitter—not enough to help the island’s residents survive the coming winter.
From their high ground on the Istani front, sentries gazed down coldly upon the island. Clad in warm fur coats and holding their firearms, they simply waited for the cold and hunger to break the rebellious slaves.
Silsa was unaware of any of this, but she had still been on edge for the past two days.
At the Elders’ instruction, the young Gray Elf had donned a specially prepared outfit, complete with armor plates, lace, and a skirt. ’This is utterly bizarre,’ the girl thought. ’It offers no real protection, it only gets in the way.’ Besides, her combat skills were born from hunting and assassination; they demanded agility and freedom of movement.
Representatives from the villages and towns around Belanster began arriving in the city. The Reconstruction Council had arranged their itineraries, and an audience with Silsa was an essential part of the schedule.
The representatives, both young and old, listened with hope and reverence to the embellished stories of her deeds. Silsa felt a profound unease. When they asked her, "Will we win?" and "Can we get our food back from the Kingdom?" Silsa desperately wanted to tell them that she was just as lost as they were.
’This doesn’t feel like fighting,’ she thought.
After enduring this for two days, Silsa finally resolved to act on the third night. She stared up at the high crescent moon, guessing it must be midnight. She changed back into her familiar clothes. ’This is much better than that ridiculous "costume,"’ Silsa thought, feeling a sense of relief.
Although she would miss the fine food she had eaten over the past few days, her desire to return to her own unit overshadowed everything else. ’Only when I’m with people from my home am I truly myself.’
THUD. The sound of her landing from the second story was faint. She was as agile as a cat, and she quickly slipped past the dozing sentry.
’So lax...’ Silsa thought. ’Something’s wrong with the discipline around here.’ But she was just a soldier, what could she say? She could only be grateful for the sentries’ carelessness, as it allowed her to slip out of the large house and make her way to her unit.
’They already moved out?’ Silsa was startled to find the camp pitch-black and empty. But soon, the faint sound of many footsteps reached her. Holding her breath, the young woman crept deeper and found everyone lined up in neat formation, wearing dark green cloaks.
After a moment’s thought, she swiped a cloak from a supply pile, draped it over her shoulders, and blended in perfectly. She followed the small squad as it merged with a larger one, forming a contingent of about three hundred people.
Everyone remained silent as they marched into a deep forest near Belanster. Pushing aside layers of branches and leaves, they emerged into a large, sudden clearing. Long, moss-covered stones formed a circle, their surfaces carved with intricate grooves.
The area was clearly illuminated by torches and guarded by fully armed soldiers. The security was even tighter than that surrounding the Gray Elf leadership. When the Cloak Team arrived, the two groups exchanged a series of passwords before the newcomers were allowed to proceed.
’It’s an ancestral ruin!’ Even the Elf farmers among them were familiar with some of the ancient totems and symbols. Istani had not been thorough in its oppression, taking a hands-off approach to Gray Elf culture. As a result, many historical memories had been preserved through customs, allowing Silsa and the others to recognize that their ancestors had erected these stone pillars.
"The appointed time is near. Take a head count," the commander of the guards ordered the Cloak Team.
The contingent was divided into smaller squads based on their home villages, with the village chiefs now serving as squad leaders. As one of them counted his people, he discovered he had an extra person.
Silsa, who was slightly shorter than the others, pulled back a corner of her hood. The village chief started but quickly reported that everything was normal.
"Silsa! You shouldn’t be here!" the village chief hissed in a low voice after rejoining the ranks. The others had noticed her as well. In truth, they were all happy to have Silsa back and instinctively tightened their formation, enclosing her within the crowd.
"What is our mission?" The secrecy of it all filled Silsa with curiosity and fighting spirit.
"We... we’re going to use our ancestors’ magic to secretly infiltrate Storm City! We are to be the dagger plunged into the enemy’s heart! Once we demonstrate the ability to threaten their Royal Capital, the Kingdom will be forced to compromise." After reciting the words from the mobilization meeting, the village chief voiced his own concern. "Silsa, you can’t come with us... It’s too dangerous. If anything were to happen..."
"Wasn’t it right here that we defeated the Burning Lion Knight Order together? The Elders gave me that foolish title, ’Victory Girl.’ If they’re right about that, then let me join this mission so we can achieve victory together!"
As Silsa and the village chief whispered, the lead commander poured molten resin into the grooves of the Magic Array. The resin ignited on its own, and a burst of emerald flames erupted, forming a wall of fire within the circle of stone pillars.
The way to the Shadow Land—or more precisely, to the Elf Holy Land—was open.
"No, the Elders had their reasons... I think..." The village chief was still hesitating, but Silsa had already charged into the wall of fire. With a sigh, he could only follow.
The flames didn’t scorch. A wave of warmth washed over them as they passed through, but it was immediately replaced by the damp, cold air of the Shadow Land, which embraced every member of the Cloak Team. This was the Abyss where reality and illusion met, the Elf Holy Land that had once held their last hope. Enormous statues of their ancestors stood here, leaving everyone too stunned to speak.
Silsa paid no mind to the useless ancestral statues. She felt a strange black vine wrap around her ankle and sliced it away with her small knife.
The Holy Land was merely a waypoint. Beams of blue light shot from the eyes of a colossal statue, guiding the unit to the edge of the Deep Diving Area, where they passed through another stone gate.
’What will Storm City be like? Are the buildings even taller and more numerous than in Belanster? Are the streets paved with gold and filled with the scent of bread? After all, they took our wheat and stole so much of our wealth...’
Silsa gripped her dagger. The others passed through the Teleportation Gate with trepidation, preparing to witness the splendor of the great city.
They emerged beside a Garbage Mountain—an extremely lively one at that. A crowd of small folk, about the height of a Dwarf but much skinnier, were singing and dancing around what appeared to be a genuine, honest-to-goodness Dwarf.
"A warm welcome to the foreign legion of the Holy Mouse Speaker Kingdom!" a man with a flashy mushroom-style haircut bellowed through a horn. The three hundred and one cloaked Gray Elf warriors, utterly bewildered, received a hero’s welcome from the lines of cheering Mouse Speakers.
