Chapter 467: Talk With The Elf King Azel gained consciousness shortly after and he was on the bed once again. Sylvia didn’t seem to be in the room and he was stretching. ’Gwen... where did she go?’ Azel thought before realizing that Gwendolyn wasn’t even in the room... she was probably trailing Sylvia on his orders. Instead, there was a person looking over him. It was a beautiful maid who bowed immediately as his eyes got to her. ’She doesn’t have any mana...’ He thought. But the maid had aura instead. He looked at her ears and found out why... her ears weren’t nearly as long as a regular elf’s. ’So she’s a half elf.’ "I apologize for disturbing you at this time but the Elf King sent me to ensure that you are led to the dining." She said, her voice soft and respectful. Azel stood up, looking at his clothes before summoning a cloak. The fabric materialized around his shoulders with a flash of blue light. "Alright... let’s be on our way." She turned gracefully and began leading him through the winding paths of the castle. The hallways were carved from living wood. Intricate patterns spiraled along the walls, depicting ancient battles and ceremonies that Azel couldn’t quite decipher in the dim light. As they walked, there was one thing that Azel noticed immediately... there were several half elf maids throughout the entire place. And the pure elves were looking down at them thoroughly, even though they didn’t seem to mean to. It was subtle... a slight turn of the head, a brief wrinkle of the nose, the way they stepped aside just a bit too far when a half elf passed. The discrimination was woven into every interaction like an invisible thread. ’If they acted like pure racists to humans, then I wonder how the half elves feel.’ Azel thought, his jaw tightening slightly. He glanced at the maid leading him. Her posture was perfect but there was something in the set of her shoulders... she was completely tense. She didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as they passed. The walk felt longer than it should have been. Finally, they arrived at a large door crafted from dark wood and inlaid with silver enchantments that pulsed gently with mana. The maid pushed it open, revealing a room that was somehow both intimate and grand. The Elf King sat at a short dining table, its posture perfectly straight and composed. Around the room were shelves overflowing with books... ancient tomes with cracked leather spines, newer volumes with pristine covers, and scrolls tied with silk ribbons. Papers were scattered across a nearby desk, covered in elegant handwriting. It seemed this place acted as some sort of study too. He was sure of it. The smell of old paper and dried herbs hung in the air. "My King... I have brought the human over here." The half elf said with a deep bow. The Elf King motioned with one pale hand, and the door closed behind Azel with a soft click. He sat down on the opposite side of the Elf King, the chair surprisingly comfortable despite being carved from solid wood. With another casual motion from the King, the doors opened again and several maids entered carrying trays laden with food. There was a mix of human food and elven delicacies... roasted meats seasoned with unfamiliar spices, delicate pastries and fruits that looked like they’d been plucked from dreams, and simple bread with butter. They placed everything on the table with efficiency. Once the maids finished, they bowed and left shortly after. The room fell into a comfortable silence. The Elf King cleared its throat. "That was a wonderful match... I have never felt that kind of excitement for a while now." The Elf King said, its tri-tone eyes fixed on Azel with genuine interest. Azel raised an eyebrow, confused. Upon noticing his expression, the Elf King continued. "The Dungeon you were in was not a Highborn or Rank 2 dungeon. It was simply crafted by my imagination and the power of the forest." Azel blinked. "You created that entire thing...?" "Yes." The Elf King’s lips curved into the hint of a smile. "I wanted to see what you were capable of. Sylvia spoke highly of your abilities, but I needed to confirm it myself. Words are cheap... actions reveal truth." "I see..." Azel said, reaching for his cup. He waited until the elf took a sip of its tea before he continued with his own. The moment the liquid touched his tongue, his face scrunched up involuntarily. This one was a lot harsher than the one he tasted yesterday and was bitter... it was not tea but rather coffee. Strong, unfiltered coffee that tasted like it could strip paint. Seeing the way his face contorted, the Elf King looked up with what might have been concern. "Is the tea not to your liking...? I made it myself. I apologize if I can’t review it myself. In this body, I do not have the ability to taste." Azel froze mid-swallow. "You do not have the ability to taste?" That was more surprising than anything else he’d learned today. "Yes..." The Elf King set down its cup with a soft clink. "Royal elves while being the most powerful lines that the Elves had managed to get, they were still incomplete. While others were born with genders at birth, you could only get a gender when you fell in love which made the Royal elves promote inbreeding between themselves to keep the Bloodline pure." The Elf King paused, staring into its cup as if searching for something in the dark liquid. "I am the last pure blood Royal elf and I will live... I will continue to live for tens of thousands of years perhaps, unless I am killed. I will live to see the world unite... I will live to see the world probably destroy. I will live to face countless opponents..." Its voice grew softer and distant. "I will live while everyone I know will die off in that time span, just like how it was five hundred years ago." Even though the Elf King’s voice was very monotone, Azel could practically feel the sadness radiating from it. It pressed against his chest like a physical weight... the loneliness of immortality and the burden of watching everyone you care about crumble into dust while you remain unchanged. Azel said nothing. What could he say to someone who’d lived that kind of existence? The Elf King seemed to shake itself from the melancholy moment, straightening slightly. "Well I digressed from the point. As for why I have called you here, I wanted to ask you a request... but I will answer one of your requests as well. You may start." The Elf King said and reached for a biscuit. It bit into the pastry carefully, chewing slowly. In its mouth, it was just like eating dirt... completely tasteless. It swallowed anyway, as it always did, maintaining the illusion of normalcy. Azel watched the Elf King for a long moment, considering his options. There were dozens of things he wanted to know... about the trial, about Sylvia’s true intentions, about the politics of this place. "I see." Azel said then dropped his tea and placed both hands on the table, leaning forward slightly. His crimson eyes locked onto the Elf King’s tri-tone gaze. "I would like to hear more about Yarog... and his lover." The Elf King’s eyes flicked toward his, and for the first time since they’d met, genuine emotion crossed its face. A small smile formed... sad, nostalgic, and achingly human despite its inhuman features. "I see... you must be very interested in Yarog’s story. Then sit back and instead of telling you, I will show you." The Elf King said. ... The world around them shattered and Azel staggered, however the Elf King remained standing. The study fractured like broken glass, each piece dissolving into particles of light that scattered into nothingness. Azel’s stomach lurched as the ground beneath his feet became transparent, then vanished entirely. He stumbled forward, his arms flailing instinctively even though there was nothing to grab onto. "Do not be afraid... you are merely an observer in my memory." The Elf King said, its voice echoing from everywhere and nowhere at once. Then the world began to rebuild. Colors bled back into existence first... greens and golds and soft whites. Then shapes formed, solidifying into trees, stone pathways, and buildings that gleamed with elegance. The air filled with sound... distant conversations, the rustle of leaves, footsteps on cobblestone. And standing in the center of it all was Yarog. Azel’s breath caught in his throat. The man before him was an elven man with silver hair that fell past his shoulders, tied back loosely with a simple cord. He wore glasses perched on his nose, and he was dressed in scholarly robes that marked him as someone of importance. His features were sharp and refined, distinctly elven... but his eyes. Those crimson eyes. Azel could swear that this man was very similar to him except with the very pointed ears. It was like looking at a distorted reflection of himself. Yarog was standing in front of a crowd of young elves, gesturing animatedly at a board covered in complex diagrams and magical formulas. His expression was passionate, alive with the kind of enthusiasm only scholars possessed when discussing their life’s work. "Where did you say you were based again?" The Elf King asked, pulling Azel’s attention away from the scene. "I come from the Winter region." Azel replied, still staring at his ancestor. The Elf King clapped its hands together softly, as if remembering something important. "Right... you are a descendant of Yarog, no wonder. The Winter region used to be at war with the original Human Empires and after Yarog was banished, he used that as an opportunity to sneak in." The Elf King said, its tri-tone eyes gleaming with recognition. "No wonder you look like him and have his eyes... I’m guessing you are a royal as well." "Yes." The Elf King looked somber and then pointed to Yarog, who was now drawing another diagram with practiced precision. "Yarog was a scholar... a very brilliant one indeed and one of the royal elves like me though his mother was not a royal so he had his gender chosen from birth." The Elf King said, and there was genuine admiration in its monotone voice. "He was not only brilliant but he had the most potential in the land of elves, even more so than mine... and it was believed he would be my first advisor when I ascended to the throne." Azel watched as the young elves around Yarog listened with rapt attention, their eyes wide with wonder at whatever concept he was explaining. Some took notes furiously while others simply stared in awe. The memory slowly bled apart like watercolor paint running down canvas, revealing a completely different scene. Yarog stood in a moonlit garden, and beside him was a human woman. It was Gwendolyn, except she looked much younger. Her hair was styled differently, pinned up with delicate flowers, and her figure while still curvy was not quite as... exaggerated as her current ghostly form. Her face held the same mischievous smile though and the same warmth in her eyes. They were holding hands. "But he fell in love with a human, which on normal circumstances was suicidal but it was as if Yarog did not care about his life anymore." The Elf King continued, its voice growing colder. "He was planning to run away... and leave us behind, even though the humans and elves were having it out at that point in time under my Father so I advised Yarog against it, saying that it would not end well however my old friend did not listen to me." The Elf King paused, and Azel could have sworn he heard disgust creep into that monotone voice. "This woman seemed to have enchanted him with those obscene bags of flesh on her chest." Despite the gravity of the situation, Azel almost snorted. Even five hundred years ago, Gwendolyn’s chest had been a topic of conversation. The memory tore apart again, more violently this time. The peaceful garden vanished, replaced by chaos and bloodshed. Yarog and Gwendolyn were running through a forest stained with blood. Bodies littered the ground... human soldiers, elven warriors, all fallen in whatever conflict had erupted. The trees were scorched black in places, and the air glowed with residual battle magic. Gwendolyn stumbled, her dress torn and dirty, but Yarog caught her immediately. His scholarly robes were gone, replaced by light armor. Blood streaked across his face, and his crimson eyes burned with desperation. "I was sent to chase them alongside other elves..." The Elf King narrated quietly. "They seemed to be planning to use the Bloodmorn forest to escape into one of the human Empires then from there, they would run even more until they reached a secure location." Azel watched as arrows flew through the air like deadly rain. Yarog deflected several with barriers of light, his mana flaring brilliantly even in the memory. Gwendolyn stayed close to him, her own magic forming protective shields around them both. They moved with practiced coordination, like they’d fought together before but there were too many pursuers. An elf with silver armor appeared ahead of them, bow drawn and glowing with concentrated mana. The arrow released. The memory showed Gwendolyn’s chest being blasted through by the projectile, a massive hole erupting where her heart had been. Blood sprayed across Yarog’s face as she collapsed backward. Yarog caught her before she hit the ground, his hands immediately pressing against the wound even though it was clearly fatal. His mouth moved in a scream that had no sound and his face twisted with anguish and denial. He shook her with concern in his eyes, with desperation, with the kind of raw grief that transcended language. Azel’s jaw clenched. He’d seen death before, dealt it himself countless times... but watching this felt different, maybe it was because it was from the Elf King’s memories. "In the end, the woman was killed and her body was shoved into a cave formation that was forming to rot while Yarog was seized and taken back to the Elven Empire." The Elf King said flatly, as if reciting historical fact. The memory shifted again. Yarog sat on a bed in a lavishly decorated room, his head in his hands. His silver hair hung loose and disheveled, and his shoulders shook with silent sobs. Beside him sat a younger version of the Elf King, looking almost uncomfortable with the display of emotion. The younger Elf King placed a hesitant hand on Yarog’s shoulder. "My friend told me he wanted to escape... that he didn’t want to stay in a land ridden with war anymore, that he didn’t want to see our faces anymore and while I thought I understood, I did not but regardless I helped him escape." The Elf King’s voice softened with something that might have been regret. The memories faded like smoke in the wind, leaving them back in the dining room where they had disappeared from. Azel blinked, readjusting to solid reality. The books were still on their shelves, the food still on the table, everything exactly as they’d left it. "That was a lesson of love, over 500 years ago. As for Yarog’s punishment which I didn’t witness, he had his lifespan extracted, leaving him with the lifespan of a regular human." The Elf King said as it took another biscuit with a small sigh. "However that is not the end of the story..." Before Azel could ask what that meant, the world shattered again. It seemed that the Elf King had pulled them out of the memories to have a biscuit, and now they were plunging back in. This time, the scene that formed was apocalyptic. The beautiful city of Elun’varis was partly destroyed, its elegant towers cracked and crumbling. Fires burned in the distance, casting everything in hellish orange light. The streets were littered with elf bodies laid across the ground, their blood pooling on pristine white stone. In the center of the devastation, the younger Elf King knelt. It held onto an older Elf King who looked very manly with a beard and broad shoulders... a stark contrast to the androgynous figure Azel knew. The older King’s robes were shredded, revealing several holes in his body that wept golden blood. His breathing was labored. He was dying. Floating above them like a vengeful god was a human. The man had a long flowing white beard that whipped in wind created by his own magical pressure, and he wore a wizard’s hat that somehow managed to look both ridiculous and terrifying. His eyes burned with absolute hate, with the kind of fury that came from loss too great to bear. His hands crackled with destructive magic that made the air itself scream. "Elun’varis was attacked by a single human who single-handedly destroyed the Elf King and several high ranking elves as well." The Elf King narrated. Azel looked at the Wizard with pursed lips. "This human was Merek, The Wizard Of Destruction."