Chapter 365 The Dimming Light (2)
"Then…why did you kill Mother?" I squeak out desperately despite already knowing the answer.
"There was a reason why your mother couldn't succeed to the throne despite being more loved by the people and capable compared to me. Our predecessors agreed that what our ancestors had done in the past was despicable; however, we are already too deep into this. To bow down and acknowledge our mistake will only lose us our deserved glory."
"You took that glory away from—"
"You misunderstood something, my daughter," Eagnor cuts me off. "We were only supposed to be Freya's favorite creation. Although we were guaranteed a life of peace, we didn't have any means to defend ourselves. To put it bluntly, we were no more than glorified pets. No one could hurt us as we had Freya's protection, but we didn't possess glory either. We were considered part of nature and thus had no standing in this world."
With a pleased smile, Eagnor concludes, "Galhador brought the glory to us. It cost us half of our kin but the result was worth it."
"To have such a mirthful look while talking about an atrocious betrayal, what a lunatic!" my aunt spits contemptuously.
"Don't act like you suffer because of the transition, Haletha," Eagnor chided. "Dark Elves could still live normally even if Nyx had survived. The only thing changing about you is your affiliation. Nothing should bother you."
"Light Elves—your cronies bother us."
Eagnor remains silent for a few seconds as he stares down at Haletha before erupting in laughter. Light Elves are believed to be a creation surrounded by light. The idea of Light Elves being unable to do impure things is so well-grounded in everyone's mind that no one will believe that Elves can lie. We are also indoctrinated about that, believing that being deceitful will only turn us into Dark Elves. Today, I can say for sure, that is an absolute lie.
The sheer deceit and negative emotions coming from Eagnor make him look anything but a Light Elf. I should have noticed it sooner. Now that I think about it, we have always disregarded the well-being of Dark Elves despite being dubbed the 'kindest' race. Nothing about that sounds kind or pure. We even don't mind killing Dark Elves, believing we are doing the world a favor by doing that. How hypocritical. I am ashamed of my kin.
"In the end, we are not so different from humans whose morality we have always looked down on, are we?" I mutter ironically.
"Glóredhel also said the same thing before declaring that she would mend everything. That became my cue to end her as everything she might do from then on would only jeopardize our glory," Eagnor recounted wistfully. "I wasn't heartless, you know? My heart bled as I ripped half of it apart by killing her. However, the glory must be maintained. I couldn't let the sacrifice of the Dark Elves and the hard work of our ancestors turn to waste, could I?"
"Hyah!"
Blinded by my rage, against my better judgment, I rush at Eagnor, the person whom I have seen as a father for my whole life. Every one of the established ideas regarding him in my mind crumbles. I can now see the oddities that my oblivious mind had always disregarded. I am glad that only one of my parents is scum, otherwise, I would have suffered from an identity crisis.
Clank!
My sword is easily blocked, but I don't mind. My rage toward Eagnor—the fact that he thinks he did a noble job by killing my mother—only makes me want to hit him. I pour out as much Mana as I can and use it to enhance my attack. I can see the displeased look Eagnor has on his face. He must be disappointed that I don't even utilize the Elven Secret Arts. I can't. My mind can't process such a complicated thing at this moment.
My sword is parried for the first time. The force behind the parry is enough to throw off my balance and I can immediately tell that my time has come to an end. Even with everything in my surroundings moving slowly because of my adrenaline-rushed state, Eagnor's spear still moves at a speed my eyes can't follow. I have no way to defend myself, so I just close my eyes and wait until it pierces me.
I fall on my butt, but the spear never comes. Quickly concluding that my aunt has shielded me, I open my eyes in horror. I can bear the hatred of every single Dark Elf but not of that kid. That brash and endearingly blunt kid has grown on me. Having her hate me will only drive me to the lowest point of my life.
"Ah…"
It is much to my relief and shock that I find myself looking at an assuring back that is broader than Eagnor's which I had always been chasing. My aunt also shares the same sentiment as she lets out a sigh of relief. The chokingly heavy atmosphere turns several levels lighter. The person standing before us is more than capable of taking care of Eagnor as he has Eagnor's spear blade in his hand.
The momentarily stunned Eagnor regains his composure when the figure turns his head slightly to my face. It has been quite some time since I last saw his face, so I am quite stunned to see the faint yet still palpable change on his face. I am embarrassingly so enamored by his visage that I ignore Eagnor's retreating figure.
"Have you finally fallen for me?" says the owner of the visage in the voice that I have always heard from behind a Sound Crystal.
"…yes," I answer timidly.
I keep my gaze down but I can tell he is quite bewildered if his silence is any indication. A faint snort of amusement makes me raise my gaze. I am expecting his ridiculing gaze, so I am a bit bemused to find his slightly helpless look. Granted, it is extremely faint, but his eternally stoic face makes it easier to notice the slight difference.
"Well, that is called the suspension bridge effect. Don't mind too much about it."
I haven't heard of that, but I am inclined to believe he is saying I misunderstand myself. What an irritating guy!
***
[Layland Kleinhaus' POV]
Ignoring the befuddled and irritated blushing mess of Light Elf behind me, I return my gaze to the front. I ignore the thankful look Haletha sends me as she is treated by Millonia in favor of observing our surroundings. The battle spot is isolated by Arieda's Secret Art which is reinforced by Luxia's Natural Energy. According to Elorand, the Chief of the Royal Guard, it has been like this for the past two days.
The situation outside is not optimal—the element of surprise has worn off, so it is getting desperate for our side—but it doesn't get any worse because Eagnor is trapped with Haletha. She has splendidly held off the overly geared Eagnor, so having Eryn by her side must mean that she can no longer exert enough force to contend against him.
I have to make sure I commend her after all of this ends. The war will end once Eagnor is dead. Unlike Dark Elves, Light Elves are cowardly. It's funny that the longer you can live, the more afraid you are of death. Focusing my gaze on Eagnor, I meet his scowling face. The idiot has been prodding me with his Mana, futilely trying to gauge my power.
Extending my hand to the side, I retrieve Rexorem from the Bond Seal. The ground faintly trembled as a faint yet terrifying Mana wave swept the air. That didn't come from me, so Eagnor and I turn our heads to the side and look at the situation outside the isolated space. We are in time to find Eliseus blasting anything in her way using the beam coming out of the tip of her sword.
Eagnor's scowl deepened, but he immediately turned stoic once he faced me again. His lips are twitching faintly, telling me what he thinks about me. He considers the entire ordeal nothing more than an extra work. He is sure of his victory. Naturally, I can't stop the smile from forming. It is going to split my face soon, so I equip my mask. The necklace around my neck morphs and covers the entirety of my face.
"It is bewildering that I can't sense you at all, but I don't think it will help you in this situation. Our fighting area is limited, so you can never sneak on me."
"Are your eyes fast enough to follow my movements?"
Eagnor can only widen his eyes in shock before hastily blocking Rexorem. Of course, he widens his eyes again as my foot comes crashing into his abdomen. His spear is raised uselessly, leaving his guard open. To his credit, he is not sent flying like a bullet. His feet are firmly rooted to the ground, so he is only sent skidding to the back.
He doesn't waste a second to fix his stance and prepares to pounce on me. He is a man of few words on the battlefield and I am very welcome to that fact. As soon as he kicks the ground, he turns into a flash and disappears from the vicinity before reappearing beside me. I step back to dodge his spear thrust, letting him pass before me.
Much to my amusement, I can see a frustrated look marring his face for a second. The self-absorbed bastard is not used to finding a match. I would very much like to toy with him all day, but I can't. Every second I spend fighting with him is equal to a bucket of blood that my army spills. Thus, I get serious.
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