Chapter 80

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Chapter 80: The Elven Kingdom

The Elven Kingdom, an ancient realm with a history spanning thousands of years.

It lay at the center of Xuzu, Belmar Duchy, and the Delos Empire, its origins lost to time.

The formidable Nightblade Leopard Cavalry, griffon patrols circling the skies, and vast formations anchored to magic veins kept the kingdom veiled in secrecy. Human records spoke little of its history, but one truth remained clear: the Elves wielded overwhelming power.

For thousands of years, even as neighboring factions rose and fell, the master of the Forest of Gran never changed. This single fact alone proved their might.

Now, the place of inheritance—the heart of that power—lay exposed before Midi and his companions.

Human cities resembled orderly chessboards, but the Elven Kingdom flowed like a jade-studded ribbon. Towering trees, emerald leaves, murmuring streams, and blooming meadows blended seamlessly with treehouses, cobbled streets, shimmering fountains, and the Palace of Moonlight, forming a living masterpiece.

Yet the celestial fire that fell upon the Forest of Gran had scorched this beauty to ash.

Now, the kingdom bore fire’s scars—charred craters pitted the earth, collapsed buildings littered the landscape, and the corpses of Elven warriors lay frozen in defiance.

Some warriors were burned to blackened husks, barely recognizable.

Others had been flattened into pulp by colossal forces, their rotting flesh fused with shattered armor.

Still others lay shredded by blades, their remains strewn like macabre confetti.

Death’s silence choked the ruins. Blood stained the streets. The adventurers, once buzzing with excitement, fell quiet, unease tightening their throats.

“High-level fire, wind, and earth elementals did this,” Midi muttered, his voice grim.

In his past life, he’d come here with Fina and Alice to fund the Hawk Brigade—but that was in 987, after looters had stripped the kingdom bare. By then, only scraps remained in overlooked corners.

Back then, they’d found mere rubble.

Now, mere weeks after the flames died, Midi stood amid the kingdom’s final moments—preserved like a fly in amber.

The battlefield told its own story:

First came the flaming meteors. They shattered the Protective Formation, smashing buildings to kindling. Elves died mid-step, mid-breath, mid-prayer.

When survivors rallied, warped elemental forces birthed horrors. Meteorites cracked open, spewing stone elementals. Flames congealed into fire spirits. Scorching winds twisted into tempest wraiths.

These newborn elementals reeked of corrupted magic—all rage and teeth. They attacked without fear, without mercy, even welcoming death if it meant dragging foes down.

And through it all, the fire raged on, devouring life with greedy tongues.

Caught between the Fire Sea and the elementals’ frenzy, a millennia-old kingdom fell in a single night.

Now, though ripe for exploration, danger lingered. Midi felt it—a prickling beneath his skin, a growl in the earth.

“Tighten formation. Begin exploration.” Odel locked eyes with Midi before barking the order.

The sprawling kingdom’s tangled streets and countless ruins demanded caution. Scouts retreated as the team coalesced into a armored knot.

Alyn produced an emerald leaf, cradling it in her palms. Her eyes slid shut.

An Elementalist and cleric flanked her, channeling magic and holy light into the leaf. Energy surged through its veins, pulsing faint waves outward.

Minutes later, the leaf shimmered—answers flowing back through its glowing threads.

Midi’s Ultimate Intent caught the ripple. So did veterans attuned to magic or life forces.

Yet the message eluded them all—save Alyn.

The half-Elve’s lips moved soundlessly. She didn’t decipher the leaf’s song—she *felt* it, bone-deep and instinctive.

"Advance northeast," Alyn opened her eyes and pointed with her hand.

Though still youthful and usually hesitant, Alyn now acted with startling decisiveness, as though she’d become someone entirely new.

So this was the greatest secret weapon of the Morning Star Mercenary Corps? Midi thought, finally grasping why this third-rate mercenary corps of barely forty members had surpassed elite rivals to claim the Palace’s heritage during the fiercest competition in his past life.

As often said, battle wasn’t the entirety of the gamble.

With two half-Elves and the emerald leaf’s power, the Morning Star Mercenary Corps possessed the sharpest eyes in this maze-like Kingdom. Seizing opportunities early was no accident.

Guided by Alyn, the team moved swiftly. Scouts fanned out to nearby alert positions while the rest formed a defensive formation, advancing steadily. Midi positioned himself near the front-middle, anchoring the formation—a spot reserved for the strongest adventurers to support both flanks.

In the Forest of Gran, Midi rarely intervened. The weak monsters served to train the fledgling team. But the Elven Kingdom’s atmosphere was wholly different.

Drawing on past-life Experience, Midi knew this Skyfire-scorched land suffered the worst mutations. Even he might struggle against its monsters or defenses, let alone low-level adventurers or non-combat artisans.

This was where true adventure began—no certainty, no regrets, no hesitation. Life and death hung on an instant.

"Mutated Nightblade Panthers ahead. They feel… off," reported a seasoned Morning Star Mercenary Corps scout.

Odel adopted utmost caution. "Nightblade Panthers are wind-Attribute, typically level 20. Mutations likely enhance them. Guard against lightning pounces—shoot down any leaping ones! Keep formation intact!"

"Stay alert even after they fall," Midi added. His past life remembered Arad Calendar 987’s Palace ruins swarming with Undead—these panthers might share that fate.

At both Leaders’ orders, the team surged forward, battle intent blazing.

Within minutes, they clashed. Elementalists’ Flame Impacts and roaming gunslingers’ bullets tore through panthers. Paladins braced tower shields against charges, spears jutting from shield gaps to repel climbers. The disciplined Formation held firm against the heightened threats.

One by one, panthers fell.

Then a roar boiled the air, hammering eardrums. Dizziness swept the ranks—the Panther King’s fury.

A bison-sized panther exploded from cover like a cannonball, aimed at the shields. Impact would scatter paladins, breaching defenses.

But a sword light flashed—Midi intercepted.

The Panther King paled against Midi’s lone-warrior prowess. Within exchanges, it faltered. Behind them, Odel calmly directed healing, her presence steadying the team like an unshakable pillar.

Soon, the beast collapsed, grievously wounded.

"We won!" Alyn cheered, trembling with nervous excitement. Her first intense battle had ended in triumph.