Dark Elf war chief Gia-Naguieb-Mazalam trudged along a pathless trail with leaden steps.
The physique once praised across neighboring nations as "steel" had withered and thinned, to the point where one might fear he would bend the knee before a small child.
The handful of subordinates who followed him were little better.
The forest was deep, oppressive, dominated by a lightless gloom and a bone-deep chill that carried no trace of living things.
"As I thought... there's nothing here."
"Lord Gia, perhaps we really should leave the Great Cursed Realm—"
Gia shook his head at the same counsel he had heard countless times before.
He wanted to tell them not to make him repeat himself, but he understood his subordinates' feelings all too well, and above all, he shared their opinion.
Yet the circumstances surrounding them would never permit it.
"What good would leaving do now? We who have been driven from our lands have nowhere left to go. Besides, I can't drag the children on any more aimless wandering. ...There's this much vegetation. There has to be food somewhere. Please, for everyone's sake, bear with me."
The smile he assembled was far from convincing.
But his subordinates could do nothing but match it.
If they surrendered hope now, there would be nothing left to drive them forward.
And yet, despite their desperate wish, food—the thing they needed most—was nowhere to be found.
"I'll admit, a forest this eerie does send a chill down your spine."
The silent searching must have been wearing on morale. Even in his depleted state, Gia spoke.
If he stopped using words, he feared he might truly lose his mind.
A quiet, deep forest had been one of the causes.
"At the southern edge of the Idoragia continent lies the accursed timber sea—the Great Cursed Realm. Ancient texts record that an evil of some kind is sealed away there. Something that would never permit the continuation of life..."
"Ha ha ha, superstition. Then why does the forest grow so thick? These trees stretching so far you cannot see a few steps ahead—wouldn't you call that life in abundance?"
The one who had broached that unsettling tale was Gear's adjutant, a woman among their ranks most versed in the old traditions. In the days when they had once reveled in glory, she had been such an avid reader that she poured nearly all her salary into books, and her words carried a certain credibility.
But Gear chose to laugh off her words all the same.
Everyone was praying that her fears would not come to pass. As their war chief, he could not afford to show weakness.
"Do not give up. You must never give up. Our noble souls, our ancestral spirits—they will surely point us toward a way to shatter this hardship."
The reason Gear was respected as a war chief lay not only in his skill but above all in this spiritual fortitude. No matter the circumstances, he never broke. He always saw his purpose through to the end.
That was precisely why he had continued as war chief within his own clan, and why—now that his entire race stood on the brink of crisis—he could still lead from the vanguard.
The subordinates who followed him drew courage from those powerful words and pressed forward boldly into the unseen darkness ahead, believing as he said that a path would surely open, believing they would surely be delivered from this desperate situation.
And then—
With a rustling, the world opened up before them.
They may have expected some miraculous phenomenon. The place before them, clearly man-made, was different enough from anything they had seen to breed hope in their hearts. Perhaps, hidden away in secret, someone lived here. Perhaps a grove of plants that bore edible fruit. Perhaps the nest of wild game.
Or perhaps a god dwelled here, one who would gently soothe their suffering.
But every shred of hope was shattered.
Only ruin existed there.
This was bad.
The moment that sight entered his field of vision, regret floods through his body.
The place, as if a section of the forest had been punched out, held a stone pedestal at its center.
At first glance, the scene might seem to hold some mystical significance, but the beings present were the problem.
First, the girl on the immediate side of the pedestal, fixing him with a sharp gaze.
Dull ash-colored hair, a robe adorned with twisted, distorted ornaments.
Her eyes, which she stared with, were abnormal in themselves—clearly not of this world, linked to an existence of evil darkness, and the danger she posed was fatal. That was plain for all to see.
But the girl was the lesser issue.
The problem was the other one.
No, was it even right to call it "one"? Gear couldn't tell.
That being was as unreal as if it had stepped directly from the pages of the legends his adjutant had spoken of.
Its shape was human. But everything about it was incomprehensible.
As if rejected by the world itself, that thing, painted pitch black, was the very manifestation of the evil spoken of in those legends.
It felt as though some fundamental law of the world had been violated, causing a seam to tear open from which the world itself might crumble away to dust.
It was an existence of that terrifying a magnitude.
I don't know what it is. But my instincts are screaming nonstop. That thing is no good.
The girl continued to stare at Gear, and most likely, that evil entity was also gazing this way.
Every one of his subordinates had stopped breathing.
Gear, understanding that his next action could determine not only their fate but the very destiny of their species, spoke with extreme caution.
"I-I am of the Mazalam clan, a Dark Elf, and my name is Ghia Naguib, war chief! You seem to be a most venerable being! First, I wish to offer my apologies for trespassing into this forest without permission!"
Slowly, so as not to provoke his opponent in the slightest, he knelt and bowed his head. It was the posture of what is commonly called prostration, but whether an entity seemingly outside the bounds of human reason would understand its intent was uncertain.
Fortunately, his subordinates, upon seeing his actions, followed suit. Ghia awaited their response. Only, his instincts screamed that he must show the utmost respect and remorse.
"...Hmm. It seems you understand the meaning of entering this place, Dark Elf. So, what reason compelled you to break the ban?"
The other party pondered for several seconds.
Ghia and his men felt like they were not truly alive, but a measure of relief washed over them at the words that came back. At least, they could be understood.
Of course, the thought that their lives might be spared was not present in the slightest. He understood only too well that this was merely a capricious, temporary reprieve.
"One of our Dark Elf clans, the Mazalam, once settled in the elven lands at the heart of Idoragia. However, the former highest decision-making body for elves, the Tetrarchy Council..."
"Be concise."
"Y-yes. We were persecuted and driven from our lands. With nowhere else to turn, we came to this forest..." Ghia hurriedly rephrased, flustered by the girl's irritation. He had schemed to convey some of their situation, however slightly, but it was a mistake. His life was in her hands. He told himself this once more.
What should he do? Should he say something? Or should he wait for more words?
His thoughts spun wildly, his heart pounding as if it would ache. His breaths grew shallow, sweat beaded on his skin. The profound darkness of the deep forest, and this being that seemed to contain a true evil capable of blotting out the night itself. Unable to withstand it all, Ghia was on the verge of uttering words begging for mercy from his own mouth.
At that very instant.
"Rattle, rattle, that is."
The being seated upon the dais spoke.
A crawling sensation crept up Gear's spine, sending a shudder through him.
His body trembled so violently he could feel it himself, and unpleasant sweat began to pour from him.
The voice of That One had seemed like that of a young man.
Yet there was not a trace of emotion in it—more than that, it felt devoid of will or even a soul.
Even the dead of hell would have possessed a more heartfelt tone.
It was that grotesque, that bizarre, to leave that impression.
And it was precisely because of this that his reaction had been slow, his thoughts grinding to a halt.
"My king is questioning you."
The girl's words carried unmistakable anger.
"The persecution grew so severe that we fled here! Our food ran out along the way, and we had no chance to gather supplies while trying to shake off our pursuers... It has been many days since we last ate."
Gear, shocked that he had unknowingly committed the grievous error of ignoring the question from That One—her master—hurriedly stammered an explanation in a pathetic voice.
His words growing hoarse toward the end, they conveyed the immeasurable anguish he carried.
"Hmm."
It seemed the being had been satisfied with Gear's explanation.
With That One having accepted it, the girl too looked somewhat satisfied and gave a small nod.
He had crossed yet another sheet of thin ice.
Of course, the end was nowhere in sight.
(Why?! Why must we endure such treatment?! What have we ever done?! All we wanted was a place to live in peace!)
With no fault of their own, having done nothing more than enter a forest, they desperately bowed their heads and begged for mercy.
What would become of me? No, what did it matter what became of me—what would become of my subordinates, my people?
The end awaiting his brethren, ravaged at the whim of wicked beings.
Trembling before that soul-chilling future, Gear was consumed by the helpless rage and grief churning within him.
(Is it truly such a grave sin that we wish to live?!)
And then—
Something rolled before him with a soft thud.
His body lurched so violently that a ridiculous fancy flashed through his mind: could that be the sound of his own head falling?
Who could blame Gear for squeezing his eyes shut in terror?
The once-feared war chief of the Mazalam clan was gone. In his place there was only a pathetic, trembling man.
But he opened his eyes.
His head was, in fact, still firmly attached—and even if it had been, something else had prompted him to look: a sweet, mellow fragrance tickling his nostrils.
There, on the ground before him, lay a single red fruit, plump and glistening with ripeness.
"Wh-what is this?"
"It's yours."
It answered simply.
Gear swallowed hard without thinking.
He had never seen, nor even heard of, a fruit shaped like this. To his people, fruit was small and hard. It held some sweetness, yes, but bitterness and astringency far overpowered it. Some regions ate them raw, but for the most part they required at least some preparation to be at all palatable.
But the one before him was different. Its mellow aroma proclaimed its sweetness without reserve, and its glistening crimson flesh seemed to plead to the eyes: eat me now.
Hefting it in his hands, it felt surprisingly heavy, the flesh packed densely right to the innermost core. It was like a fruit reminiscent of jewels, something only royalty and nobility could eat—or rather, something even they had likely never tasted. There it was, the food they desired above all else.
"Apple. Ever heard of it? It tastes good if you eat it like a rabbit."
He could not understand even half of the words That emitted. But he managed to grasp that this fruit was called an apple and that it was edible.
"Apple? No, it doesn't resemble any fruit I know..."
That said, "I'll give it to you."
If so, it would be no affront to accept it. But was it permissible to eat it? Gia wrestled with the thought in his muddled mind. He worried whether eating here would be a discourtesy. Furthermore, was it right for them to obtain food while their starving compatriots waited in the camp?
"It's delicious!"
"So sweet! And so juicy."
Hearing those words, Gia realized his subordinates had already started on the fruit before he could decide. But no matter what judgment he might reach, he could have hardly stopped his famished followers. He hurriedly turned to check on them, only to find them gnawing desperately on the fruit they had presumably been given. Sweet scent and juice spilled from the fruit they munched on.
His throat tightened with a gulp, and his own resolve wavered as he considered doing the same. Yet at least he had something he ought to do. He cast a glance toward his abnormal master. Fortunately, he could see that That was nodding approvingly. It seemed his subordinates' actions were not a breach of etiquette but rather the correct course.
Relief washed over Gia, but at the same time, he considered whether he should chide his subordinates for their rather voracious way of eating the fruit.
But faced with his subordinates tearfully stuffing fruit into their mouths, he could not utter a word. He understood their suffering and hunger better than anyone.
"There are pears, too."
Something rolled thump, thump before him again.
This time, it was a green fruit.
Nashi—it was called. Once again, something unknown to him.
From the green skin, one might have thought it was unripe, but the sweet scent—different from that of the red fruit, the apple—dispelled that notion. This, too, was an equally wondrous food.
He picked it up and stared at it vacantly.
"What is the matter with that one? Our Lord has bestowed a kindness."
Doubt and displeasure were plain on the girl's face. He did not know what the evil existence before him was thinking. But he had come to understand this girl's character to some extent. She served that being of ruin with heartfelt devotion. She would never permit anything that displeased her master. It was unthinkable to spurn such a rare gift.
Understanding this fact, Gear spoke to the girl and her master, Sol.
"There are others who have fled here, too. Among them are small children... children. Our children are starving. It has been days since they last ate, and they are all wasting away. This fruit, given through your magnanimous mercy—please, instead of giving it to me, allow me to give it to them. Please..."
Before he knew it, there was a taste of rusty iron in his mouth. Blood was trickling from the corner of his lips without his noticing. Overwhelmed by a sense of inadequacy and shame, he had bitten down hard.
The sound of his subordinates gnawing and chewing the fruit had also ceased. Perhaps his words had reminded them of their purpose. Their comrades were still waiting for Gear and the others, battling starvation.
While many of his kin could scarcely stand, let alone rise to fight, there was only one thing they were expected to do.
But that was their concern, not hers.
The young woman clicked her tongue as if she couldn't care less, and he understood.
Gia bowed his head deeply, as much as his pride would allow. This was the last of his dignity.
He would bring this food back, no matter what.
Unfazed by the terrifying existence before him, the horror from legend, the promise of utter annihilation, his eyes blazed with a fierce will. Even unto death, he would see this task through—a truth his gaze declared more eloquently than words.
And his wish was granted with startling ease.
"Pitiful."
It was the shadowy figure who had spoken.
"W-wait! Lord Takuto?!"
Hearing those words, the young woman rushed to her master in a panic, whispering urgent advice. But the abyssal darkness paid her no heed.
*Plop.*
Then came another plop, followed by a rapid, overlapping series of soft thuds.
Gia’s mouth fell open in astonishment at the mundane miracle unfolding before his eyes.
There were the fruits he had seen earlier. Enormous, knobbly tubers. A grain resembling wheat.
But there was more.
There was bread, so soft it deformed from the slightest touch of a rolling fruit.
There were even beans, vegetables, and what looked like salt and spices.
A veritable mountain of food materialized from the void, centered on the dark figure's presence, flowing out one item after another.
"To you"
Understanding the meaning of those words, Gia was struck dumb, unable to hide the tears that streamed down like a waterfall.
It was undeniably mercy.
That being had listened to their plight and said "how pitiful."
And then produced an overflow of food.
It was prepared solely for them and their kin, for the sole purpose of helping them.
To receive a handout. Until now, such a thing was utterly foreign to their kind.
The Dark Elf was a despised existence that had fled from the light. They were only permitted to barely survive by the mercy of the light-dwelling elves.
They had been spat upon with such words of contempt and lived in places where light never touched.
When Gia and the others were exiled, there was not a single soul who felt sympathy.
On the contrary, they were told the world would be purified now that the filthy dark elves were gone.
The elves, of course, but also humans, dwarves, and every other race had shunned them.
Gia had believed that was their fate, that this was the destiny imposed upon them.
He had thought that to live nobly despite harsh circumstances, to endure alone in the world, was their tribe's mission.
He had resigned himself to the idea that the world was lonely, that no god existed for them, and that their life was simply to shiver with their companions in the bone-chilling cold.
But that was wrong.
That Being was reaching out a hand to them.
Perhaps it was a deception. Perhaps, with pure malice, it was merely toying with their emotions.
But even if that were so.
There had never before been anyone who had offered them words of sympathy—let alone bestowed upon them a gift.
"A miracle!"
"With this many!"
"Oh! My Lord! Thank you!"
I could feel my subordinates going wild with ecstasy.
"My Lord... What, what is your name..."
The words left my lips of their own accord.
I had just remembered that until this very moment, I had never asked for the name of this existence.
I knew the words the girl had uttered earlier were probably the name of the one shrouded in darkness.
But that wasn't it.
Giard wanted to hear it directly from that mouth.
The name of that great being, who created miracles with the same ease as completing a chore.
The name of that precious existence who had first bestowed the warmth of mercy upon their race.
"I will give it."
It responded once more, its voice devoid of emotion or will, unchanged as before.
=Eterpedia===
[Emergency Production]Domestic Command
Emergency Production is a special command that uses Mana resources to perform various types of production.
It can produce all facilities and units available to the nation, but it consumes Mana at a high cost corresponding to the required Building Materials and Food resources.
Additionally, Emergency Production can generate Materials and Food, but it cannot generate Strategic Resources.
These Mana consumption costs can be reduced through technological development and dedicated facilities.
———