After I died, my personal maid rebelled.

The azure sky was tinged with a layer of pinkish-purple mist, the forest was gloomy, a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, and withered yellow leaves fell rustling down, burying a ground full of rotting corpses.

When her hometown was no longer her hometown, when her home was no longer her home, the white-haired fairy Zena's dormant heart seemed to be awakened once again by suffering.

Her time in the Northern Territory was not long; at least for her long lifespan, the stories that happened each year would eventually be condensed into a few dozen seconds of memory.

Standing before a fallen giant tree, Zena's voice was hoarse, as if she had lost her voice.

"It's been so long, my home."

Actually... she knew she didn't need to be sad. The elves were all tired of living anyway, and their emotions had long been worn away by time. Love and hate were just dispensable seasonings in life; the daily repetition was what made life what it was.

But the truth is, no matter how the elves face this disaster, the extinction of the elf race is already imminent.

Their goddess and creator, perhaps fed up with a certain duke, unanimously ordered the destruction of the elves...

As she rose to bid farewell to her treehouse, Zena felt lost. Her vast knowledge could not offer her any answers, and her individual strength was far too insignificant in the face of the undead army.

Most of the elves returning home went to Worry-Free Harbor. The ancient Elf Queen had left behind a warning: If the end of the world comes, please gather the people of the Elf Kingdom in Worry-Free Harbor. The sailors there will help you escape the catastrophe...

Perhaps she should also visit Worry-Free Harbor, but rather than fleeing to a post-apocalyptic world, she prefers to return to the Northern Territory. After all, Duke Oswald is a rather special being, a strange undead who is hated by the goddess but has not been defeated.

Thinking of the Duke of Oswald, Zena, walking along the forest path, seemed to have grasped something.

Ragnarok? No, that's not right.

The archbishop and his goblin wife? That doesn't seem right either.

The plague? That's already been resolved. Aside from knowledge about the plague, the Duke doesn't seem to need much help from the elves.

The Cult of Mechanism...

Zena suddenly stopped in her tracks. The mechanical cult, which originated in the Elf Kingdom, was highly valued by the Duke, who seemed to understand the meaning of machinery better than the believers.

According to the elves' deductions, the god who would replace the goddess of life would be either wisdom or destruction, but what is machinery?

Unable to find the answer to the question, Zena, determined to get to the bottom of it, decided to go to the royal capital's library to find information about the Mechanicus.

Zena, who had not encountered any living elves or undead along the way, arrived safely in the royal capital in just a few days and saw a large expanse of terrifying white bones on the outskirts of the city.

Taking a deep breath, Zena tiptoed over the scattered bones, searching for a place to step, and groped her way into the royal capital.

It's hard to imagine the bloody massacres her kin suffered. Sometimes she can't help but envy humans. Both humans and demons love war, and their armies are always able to resist powerful enemies with unwavering will.

In their pursuit of returning to simplicity, the elves' lust went far, yet they unknowingly emasculated their own animalistic nature.

If it weren't for the fact that demons and humans have been locked in a fierce battle for thousands of years, the pleasure-seeking elves would have been wiped out by these two races long ago.

But from another perspective, if humans could attack elves from time to time, the elves' military equipment wouldn't have fallen into such disrepair.

A lonely wind blows through the streets, and under the pinkish-purple sky, the capital city withers.

The trees that make up the house have lost their vitality, and even their leaves have turned a sickly dark red.

Arriving at the collapsed elven palace, Zena remained silent. She could deduce the reason for the palace's destruction: an enormous creature had ripped the earth apart.

So this city is dead; it witnessed the continuation of the elves, and it also witnessed their extinction.

Putting aside her sadness, Zena quickened her pace after realizing there was no danger. Fortunately, the library building in the capital was undamaged.

Unfortunately, when Zena pushed open the door, she was met with an empty space; papers were scattered everywhere, and the books on the shelves were nowhere to be found…

What kind of creatures would raid a library?

On the way here, Zena had glimpsed that the gold and silver jewelry in the street jewelry stores were all quiet and undisturbed.

As she dispersed the dust in the air, Zena suddenly experienced a kind of inexplicable mental breakdown.

One plausible theory is that the surviving elves returned to the capital, taking with them their invaluable knowledge. A less plausible theory, however, is that in the goddess's eyes, their elven worth was less than these books.

Once again losing her way, Zena sighed as she walked out of the library, deciding to return to the Northern Territory, as she had no power to change the fate of the elves' extinction.

The wind never stopped; the salty, damp sea breeze of April blew into the land, bringing with it a rapid clatter of hooves.

Zena turned around in fright, and a sharp arrow pierced through her ear, blowing her long, snow-white hair into disarray.

A well-equipped elven guard surrounded Zena, who dared not make a move. The silver-haired elf at the head rode a tall, long-horned elk, its silver-white armor reflecting the dim starlight.

Zena couldn't remember how many years it had been since she had seen such a serious elven guard. The composure revealed in his resolute eyes gave her goosebumps.

The elf before her was very young, probably only a little over two hundred years old, but standing before him, Zena felt as if she were paying homage to an ancient hero.

"Are you a traitor too, elf?"

Upon hearing this, Zena's heart skipped a beat. She had probably underestimated her own kind; they hadn't given up the fight yet, and they were rebuilding the Elven army...

Zena, who was being treated as a suspect, waved her hands repeatedly. "Please forgive me, General. I am an elf from the human kingdom, and I am loyal to the Duke of the North, Oswald. My purpose here is to gather intelligence on the elven kingdom for the Duke."

If we're talking about what Zena learned in the North, we have to mention Paul and his gang's ability to use others' names and influence.

When in doubt, consult the Duke. No matter what happens, the Duke of Oswald will vouch for my every word and action. You know, the Duke has plenty of power and means.

"Elves loyal to humanity..." The leading elven general was silent for a moment, and the elven guards behind him looked at each other in bewilderment.

In a state of tension and trepidation, Zena quickly noticed something amiss.

The elves' relocation to the Northern Territory is a rare and novel event in recent years. It's understandable that one elf doesn't know about it, but surely none of the elves present have heard of it?

Where did these ancient relics come from?

"I am Serfran, an elf from the human kingdoms, and I come from overseas. Now, in the name of my people, I need you to provide us with accurate information."

Zena blinked and subconsciously picked at her Happy Beans.

"What do you mean, 'You're from overseas'?!"