A mage? A spell engineer!

Chapter 298 Night on El Isle

In the northern part of El Island, the entire armed forces belonging to the Kingdom of Istani were mobilized.

The kingdom has many colonies, the closest being El, which is just across the sea.

From the very beginning of the kingdom's establishment, the two sides have been in conflict. The island is inhabited by believers of Is, who rejoice at Is's power to overthrow the old empire and the Church of Order.

However, the grey elves on El Island harbored suspicion and kept their distance from this foreign deity. After the imperial invaders were driven back into the sea, they attempted to restore the glory and traditions of their ancestors, and once again began to worship the Elven King or the nature god.

"These infidels and Mudbloods are lazy and stupid, but they are somewhat cunning. Be very careful, extremely careful, lest you be killed by those weaklings. Such a death is utterly dishonorable; it will not be met with the mourning of your brothers, but with ridicule!"

After gaining independence, Istani quickly inflicted even more of its oppression and enslavement on its neighbors, destroying the island's ancient altars and palaces, erasing the original ruling class, and turning the island into a granary where only swamps and mountains could be cultivated with difficulty.

The Grand Commander of the Burning Lion Knights had a face covered in scars, revealing chunks of flesh, and with his bushy golden beard, he truly resembled an enraged lion from the front. His fierce gaze swept over his men, who stood solemnly in the night, eager and thirsting for the thrill of slaughter.

The commander was very satisfied. He tapped the scabbard at his waist twice, and his knight attendant brought over a whole tray of small bottles of potions.

"My lads, Her Majesty the Queen has bestowed upon you something wonderful—this holy oil. Just a little bit under your nose will make you more valiant than the champions of the old Empire's Colosseum, fearless of pain and nothing. But don't use too much, or you'll have more strength than you can use!"

"Such a good thing?!" The knights, filled with curiosity and excitement, took the items one by one. Some used them on the spot and couldn't help but shout out.

The Knights were a powerful force prepared for the main resistance on El Isle, while in the fields and villages, the task of clearing out the enemy was handled by the Istani organization responsible for maintaining order.

However, their actions have already been discovered by the Grey Elves.

The young female grey elf packed her valuables in the thatched hut, carefully wrapped them in cloth she had woven herself, and also took the dry rations she had prepared beforehand—the island of El was rich in a type of tuber, which was the main source of starch for the entire Istani. Bread made from it was difficult to ferment, and in order to preserve it, it was dehydrated as much as possible and baked until it was as hard as a rock.

"Mother, come into the woods with me." The woman held the child's hand. Based on experience, there were still about fifteen minutes before the village bell signaled the evacuation. Any later and the cops would be here.

"I'm too old to walk anymore. You all hide well, I'll just stay here and pray for my son." The male head of the household should be in the rebel ranks right now. They have received news that the forces suppressing the rebels in Istani this time are unprecedentedly large, and no one is not worried about the members of the rebels.

However, without resistance, the kingdom's oppression of the grey elves would become even more unbridled, easily turning them into slaves and taking away their last rations at will.

The old man was focused on the small altar in his home, where a blurred wooden carving depicted runes that Rorschach had seen in the museum.

The woman hesitated for a moment, then placed a piece of bread next to the old man.

"Goodbye, Grandma." The children didn't understand that this was a moment of life and death. They were confused and only knew that they would have to spend the rest of the night in the woods. They wondered why Grandma could stay at home and not have to be exposed to the cold wind.

The old woman did not answer. She picked up the bread and placed it on the altar, continuing to pray. Even she herself did not know who she was praying to. For hundreds of years, the gray elves had shed blood and tears, yet they still could not fill the altar of the gods.

But she is too old to even walk through the forest anymore. Following her daughter-in-law and grandchildren would only be a hindrance, and she could only repeat what she was doing in vain.

Elves are immortal beings; this is common knowledge worldwide. In the songs of bards, there was once an elven sage who enlightened three generations of humans. In the war against the dwarves, elven war heroes were able to stand against two dwarven commanders for over a hundred years.

But since the Age of Silence, since the Isle of El was ruthlessly conquered and dominated by its neighbors, the lifespan of the Grey Elves has been reduced by their doubled labor, harsh living conditions, and organized "extermination."

In ancient times, when they lived freely, the old woman would still be in her prime, but now she looks like a dehydrated shrimp, her thin and withered body bowed over by pain and piety.

boom!

Not long after the family members left, the door was violently kicked open. It was "Live Lobster" holding a gun. They had already searched every house, but most people had already left.

Upon seeing the elderly elf, the lead "raw lobster" brightened up: "Another old bastard! Haha, Mudbloods really are all beasts, unwanted by their parents."

The old man remained unmoved and continued to mutter to himself before the altar.

"Hey, what are you muttering?" The incomprehensible language only fueled the intruders' frustration, the ancient language a reminder that they were committing violence on land that did not belong to them.

The bayonet's sharp edge pierced directly into the flesh on his back, causing the old man to temporarily interrupt his prayers, but he quickly resumed them.

"Damn it, at a time like this you're still praying to some god? There's no such thing as a god. You're all outcasts, destined to rot in the mud."

Just then, blood flowed and flowed, across the rough stone slabs on the ground, staining the withered grass red, and flowing all the way to the center of the altar.

The blade cruelly penetrated further, and the gunman tried to use his strength to turn it, but the bayonet was stuck in the bone. He was somewhat disappointed because he cherished the blade, but he still pulled it out.

Thump. Another Mudblood fell in this squad leader's career. He used his knife to turn the creature face up and cut off its long left ear. Afterward, he casually poked it a few times to make sure the old elf wasn't reacting.

"Didn't the instructions say it had to be the right ear?"

"Are you blind? This old man's right ear was cut off a long time ago. Talk to the officer and see if you can sneak into the count."

"Let's go, let's go," he muttered, turning around and heading to the next room with his subordinates. It seemed that once again, the grey elves here had received a message, causing them to return empty-handed.

Just as they were about to step out the door, the sound of prayer rang out again, growing louder and louder.

Are there other people? They wanted to turn around and look back, but the goosebumps on their skin and their instincts told them they couldn't turn back!

"Feed"

The sound, like the bayonets of their guns, penetrated deep into their brains from their eardrums, churning wildly. Suddenly, these people could understand the old elf's words; she was repeating such a simple sentence: "Kill you, kill you, kill you, kill you."

A bewitching flower bursts forth from the soil, wild vines shoot skyward from the swamp and well, and a group of "live lobsters" become nourishment for the strange plant.

(End of this chapter)