At that time, in Arland
Grantz was on his way to the Elven army, which was stationed in part of the royal capital.
The man he sought was Michael Thor Soldia, one of the Five Dukes. Though, that name had long been cast aside. Now he was called Duke Michael Nordmann. “Thor Soldia” was a name reserved only for the royal line of the Sacred Tree Kingdom, and when that kingdom fell, Michael refused to inherit it. More precisely, he had rejected the name himself when he abandoned his country.
Michael was currently staying in the capital with his troops to acquire ammunition and replacement parts for worn weapons.
“Yo!”
“Hm? Oh, Grantz. What is it?”
Michael gave him a brief greeting and then resumed the maintenance of the M-700 replica rifle in his hands.
“Looks like you’ve taken a liking to that gun.”
“Of course. It’s a marvelous weapon. Though, if only I could imbue bullets with magic the way we do with arrows…”
“Huh. So, what’s your Elven army planning to do?”
It wasn’t just Michael cleaning his gun. Many of the Elves inside the building were also seriously tending to their rifles.
“What else? We’re going to join the Princess. Don’t try to stop us, Grantz.”
As expected, Michael declared they would go to Alicetia’s side. The other Elves present all nodded in firm agreement. Their eyes burned with resolve.
“… So you’re giving up again.”
“We are weary, Grantz. Weary of the ceaseless greed of the Humans who rule the central continent. How long must we go on fighting? At the very least, we deserve to end with some shred of honor, don’t you think?”
The Elves carried a burden of guilt. Long ago, the Avalon Kingdom had sworn to harmony and prosperity among the races. The Nocturne Kingdom had stood with them.
When those two kingdoms faced destruction, the Elves stood by and watched, saying it was not their concern.
When Avalon and Nocturne perished, and the Age of Man arrived, the Elves realized their mistake. They finally understood why Avalon and Nocturne had staked their very existence in resistance: they feared what would follow their fall. The insatiable greed of Humans would drag many other races into misery. Those two nations had known that their existence was the bulwark holding back that fate.
But they stood alone and perished. The Beast Garden too was no true nation, merely a disorderly pack of beastkin claiming the title of state, and it too quickly fell.
So, when the Elven homeland was next targeted, no aid came.
The Elves in Arland fled their lost homeland, and the Arland Kingdom—founded by Avalon’s surviving people—took them in. Even though the Elves had once abandoned Avalon in its hour of need, Arland welcomed them warmly.
The Elves would never forget that kindness. Yet…
“We cannot seem to become true Arlandians. So many still cling to thoughts of our homeland. Not this land, but the homeland already lost. Don’t you think that’s pitiful? We think so ourselves… yet we cannot let go.”
Grateful as they were, the Elves never forgot their longing. Whenever the Empire invaded, they were the first to march, no matter the losses. When famine struck Arland, they shared their supplies before anyone else. They never rebelled, not once. Even their treasured potions, forbidden to be traded beyond Elven kin, they offered freely.
Still, they could not cast off their yearning for home.
And so, though they fought more bravely than any, the Elves’ hearts were the first to break.
The Arland Kingdom was slowly being strangled. War costs crushed the economy, and the nation rotted from the bottom up. The Elves saw this collapse with their own eyes.
There was no future left for the kingdom.
“Yet we have nowhere else to live. If Arland falls, we’ll all be enslaved. Shouldn’t we at least wish to die with our pride intact?”
At some point, the Elves began contemplating extinction.
But they had no intention of dying in vain. They would strike a decisive blow at the Empire, or else they could never face the dead who had already fallen. That was why they had resolved that, before Arland’s collapse, they would sacrifice their race itself to deal one final blow.
If Alicetia had been unable to move during the imperial invasion—if Arland had lost—the Elves would have unleashed their forbidden magic, even at the cost of their entire people. By offering up the lives of every elf in Arland, they could inflict catastrophic losses on the Empire, enough to halt its invasion. Preparations were already complete. From the oldest to the youngest child, every elf wore the enchanted device that would turn them into sacrifices for the forbidden spell.
“So you mean to use that inside the Empire?”
“The Empire not only destroyed our homeland, they now seek to annihilate our benefactors, Arland. They deserve a stinging reprisal.”
“But the lass already gave them one.”
“That isn’t enough! Why should the Princess be the one to fight? The ones who should die are us! And she—!”
Burdened by their inability to become full members of the kingdom, they believed they ought to bear the worst of the suffering. That, to them, was penance for accepting Arland’s kindness while never truly belonging.
“Don’t say another word. We Dwarves are descendants of the spirits too. I get what you’re saying. But it looks like it’s already over. The Demon King is gone. The Evil God’s power that had tainted the Spirit King’s strength—it’s been destroyed.”
Grantz revealed that the Demon King had perished, and with him, the corrupting power of the Evil God.
The Elves were stunned, weapons slipping from their hands to the floor.
“Is that… true?”
“As true as true gets. And the lass is at your homeland right now.”
The words struck every elf present. One stood abruptly.
“Impossible! That place is protected by our fore-fathers’ forbidden spell!”
“Calm down, Norry. That magic won’t work on the Princess. Spirit-born magic can’t confuse one of its own.
No, I heard she already released it. Said if she kept maintaining the spell, the souls trapped by it would never reincarnate.”
“… That was our ultimate taboo.”
Michael broke into a sweat. He had never imagined the illusion—powered by so many sacrificed lives—would be undone. But when he heard the details, relief spread across his face.
Their kin would not return… but they would be reborn in new lives. That, at least, was a joy.
“She says to cut down all the trees in this plantation of yours here.”
“… That’s one of our sources of income.”
“She’s bringing your homeland back there.”
“What?”
“The lass doesn’t want to leave the World Tree and your homeland stuck out in the middle of nowhere. She’s bringing them back. That’s why I came.”
“Is that true!?”
Michael leapt to his feet in shock.
“Well, if it’s possible. It’ll be her first try, and worst case, your city might collapse. But she swore the World Tree will be returned to the Elves.”
Moving the entire city would be ideal, but even the Elves found it hard to believe such a feat was possible.
“She says, hey, if airships can fly, then it’s possible in theory. Still, it’s only right to warn you about the city first.”
“We don’t care. If the World Tree comes back, even if our city crumbles, our ancestors will forgive us.”
Their longing for home was strong, but they faced reality. Even if the Empire was destroyed, they couldn’t hope to defend their homeland if they returned.
So if they could at least reclaim the World Tree, that would be enough.
“In fact, if it really can’t be done, then destroy the city outright.”
“You sure about that? It’s your homeland we’re talking about.”
“We’re sure. If the World Tree comes back, we won’t hate the Princess even if our city is gone. We’ll be able to let go. We’ll finally be able to call ourselves Arlandians.”
Their yearning only endured because the homeland remained intact. If it were gone, they could give up. Once freed from that longing, they could embrace Arland as their true home.
“Alright, I’ll let the lass know. And to keep the nobles quiet, you’ll ‘buy’ it with a single gold coin, so have one ready.”
Michael understood everything from that one statement. The World Tree would bring vast wealth. Though parliament had collapsed, other nobles might still demand it be made royal property.
But wartime spoils, while taxed, belonged to the one who seized them. Once it was “sold,” only the profits could be taxed. They meant to finish everything before the kingdom even realized. Technically, it was a betrayal.
The Elves misunderstood. They believed Alicetia was going to such extremes only to keep them in Arland. After all, land doesn’t just fly. It was only natural to think that.
The other Elves thought the same, and quietly shed tears. They took her actions to mean she was telling them they didn’t have to die, didn’t have to be extinguished.
“We hereby swear anew that we, the Elves, shall devote our loyalty to the royal house until the very last of us. We shall be their shields and arrows unto the end.”
Not swords—Elves were poor with swords. A shield meant literally laying down their lives to protect the royal family. A grim vow indeed.
“Aw, cut it out. No point telling me. Anyway, looks like us Dwarves can’t provide reinforcements for the lass either. Start gathering spirit-users. We’ll gather earth spirit-users. You Elves gather water spirit-users. Call in every contact you’ve got.”
Placing land atop land risked collapse. Only with the help of spirits could they fuse it properly.
Luckily, Elves resonated with water and light spirits, while Dwarves resonated with earth and fire.
The earth spirits would fuse the brought land with the old. The water spirits would weave new veins of water. It would be a grand undertaking.
“Alright, then. Put away those dangerous weapons and head back to the Elven territory. We’d better hurry or those trees will go to waste. I’ll buy the lot from you.”
“So that was your aim.”
The Elf-grown “Elven trees” were tougher, more fire-resistant, and better conduits of mana than normal wood—a top-class material. Grantz was practically drooling.
And so, through this misunderstanding, the Elves came to hold Alicetia in even higher esteem, and to believe in her all the more.
Meanwhile, the clones left in the kingdom was quietly busy tending to the wounded. Gilbert had started sniffing around, suspecting the Grisaia Plan. Of course, the clones had no intention of telling him, putting on an act of being too busy while secretly mass-producing symbols of destruction underground.
The Elves had never needed to risk their race’s survival at all. For Alicetia’s defeat meant nothing less than the enemy nation’s destruction.
What do you think about this chapter?
