At the edge of the Great Cursed Realm, where the Dark Elves had established a makeshift encampment, death was about to arrive quietly.
Perhaps there were around five hundred of them. Mostly women and children, with few men.
The only thing uniting the huddled masses was that they were all desperately emaciated, despair reflected in their eyes.
Occasionally, the sound of an infant crying could be heard, but even that would eventually grow faint and vanish.
They lacked the energy to keep crying.
Even infants were in such a state; everyone was nearing their absolute limit.
But fate favors dramatic turns, and finally, a change came to this situation.
A relatively healthy woman tending to the sick noticed a strange scent.
It was an unusual fragrance.
No, it was clearly the smell of food. A powerfully sweet aroma at that.
Others must have noticed too.
At the same time, the sound of branches being pushed aside came from the distance.
The group instantly grew noisy. Had the war chief they'd been waiting for, the one to whom they'd entrusted their fate, finally succeeded in his mission?
What they had half-resigned themselves to was now becoming reality.
"I'm back! Look! I found food!"
And a miracle occurred.
The faces of those who had looked like corpses regained a spark of life as they rushed toward the great warriors who had stumbled but successfully fulfilled their duty, snatching the food almost greedily.
"Get the pot ready! Prepare to cook! Where are the sick and those in bad condition?! Feed them these fruits!"
The place erupted into chaos. With the last dregs of their energy, everyone sprang into action.
Those who fetched the pot, those who gathered water, those who started the fire, those who hurriedly carried the received fruits to the bedside of the ailing.
The burlap sacks taken were stuffed to bursting with provisions.
Watching the contents tumble out with stunned eyes, they each sprang into action, realizing there was no time for astonishment.
In short, the group on the brink had successfully crossed that critical threshold.
Some had been in dire condition, but the War Chiefs had returned with food just in time, and it seemed they would pull through.
At the long-awaited good news, expressions of joy bloomed on everyone's faces.
Overflowing provisions. More than enough for everyone to fill their bellies.
Where had they obtained so much food? Shouldn't they eat more sparingly, despite their hunger?
A middle-aged woman asked the War Chief her question, but he evaded with vague answers, and soon her doubts were washed away by the overwhelming desire to sate her hunger and the first taste of an exquisite meal.
◇ ◇ ◇
After a few hours, the clamor had finally subsided.
The leftover food had been carefully divided and was now stored under strict guard.
Most people, relieved to have filled their stomachs, had fallen into a death-like sleep. The only sound punctuating the quiet night was the sharp crackling of firewood splitting under the now-empty pots.
The famished had secured a moment's sustenance and safely survived a night they thought impossible to endure.
They could finally drift into the world of dreams without another night lost to the torment of hunger.
Yet even as most lay slumbering, some kept their eyes open.
A short distance from the campsite, War Chief Gear sat beside a small fire, silently gazing at the star-filled sky glimpsed through the gaps in the trees.
"You have worked hard today, Gear."
From the darkness between the trees where the firelight didn't reach, the elder who led this group, the Dark Elf sage known as Mortar, who had lived the longest, glided into view.
With a body like a bundle of dried twigs and leaning on a staff, he advanced at a leisurely pace and seated himself directly across from War Chief Gear on the other side of the fire.
Yet in stark contrast to that emaciated frame, the voice that answered Gear's question was filled with strength and dignity.
"Everyone's bellies are full and they're sleeping soundly. Even those twins who were in such terrible condition have stabilized. The fruit you brought back was extraordinary. I've lived long enough to be confident in my judgment, but even I've never seen its like."
Quietly closing his eyes, Gear reflected on the day's events. It had been a day that could only be described as a tempest. A single ray of light brought to those who had all but despaired. Gear had returned bearing food more than sufficient to fill everyone's stomachs, accompanied by words of hope. And not just any food — it was something none of them had ever heard of or laid eyes on, something so terrifyingly delicious it defied belief.
"Yeah, I had a taste myself — that was perfection. I had no idea fruit this good existed in this world."
Once Gear had confirmed that every last companion who had made it this far had received a share of the meal, he finally took a bite of the apple closest at hand.
He would never forget that moment for the rest of his life. With a satisfying, crisp sound, an overwhelming sweetness flooded his mouth. Every time he chewed, juice poured forth like a spring gushing from the earth. He could feel rest and vitality filling his parched, hollow body. The word "heavenly" would be an understatement. It vastly exceeded the bounds of reason. There, in that fruit, lay the pure joy of satisfying the most fundamental desire of a living creature — the act of eating.
Yes. It was an event that defied all common sense.
"...What happened?"
Gear remained silent for a time. It wasn't that he had the option of staying quiet — he simply couldn't find the words to explain. The event had been far too unreal, and more than anything, a lingering fear gnawed at the back of his mind that some part of him had been deceived by that being.
Old Mortar seemed to read the struggle written on his face, and rather than press him, simply waited for words to come. From Gear's grim silence, he could sense that something far more troublesome than expected had fallen upon them, and he judged it unwise to force the matter.
This is no simple matter.
Could he overcome it with his own knowledge and experience? Old Mortar quietly steeled himself.
But the words he heard far exceeded his imagination.
"I encountered a being from legend deep within the forest."
His long, white eyebrow twitched.
Beings of legend are numerous. Some are benevolent, while others, naturally, are malevolent.
Some are friendly to humanoid races like humans and elves, while others are hostile.
There are as many kinds as there are legends, but the one common thread is that they are all immensely powerful.
This is the Great Cursed Realm, a cursed forest that people do not visit.
Old Mortar prayed silently in his heart that his fears would not become reality.
"What legend is this? Is it one I know of?"
"According to my subordinate, it is a being sealed within the Great Cursed Realm, or so he said."
"You met the King of Ruin?!"
A wave of dizziness washed over him.
His fears were confirmed.
The wandering colossus. The living sea. The messenger from another dimension. The automatic torture machine.
Among the countless legends that remain, he had drawn the most dangerous, the most terrifying one.
He gritted his teeth against the endless suffering his race endured, but even in such a situation, he mobilized all the experience he had cultivated over the years to maintain his composure.
"Do you know of him, Old Mortar?"
"It remains in some old texts and legends. That when the world reaches saturation, the King of Ruin will appear. He will destroy all things and reset everything from the beginning. The truth is uncertain, but it cannot be dismissed as a lie either... did he name himself as such?"
Tales concerning the King of Ruin are scarce. They speak of him being sealed within this Great Cursed Realm, or appearing from nowhere without warning, or perhaps already having been destroyed by a god. Even the few legends that exist contradict one another. Yet his purpose remains consistently singular: the annihilation of the world.
"I never heard his name. He didn't introduce himself. But the King of Ruin... yes, he possessed a terror befitting that title."
"Did you speak with the King?"
"No, the King was... not a being our understanding could readily grasp. But he had a young girl attending him. She served to supplement his words to some extent."
Gia recalled. What manner of being was that girl? What could be said for certain was that she was not simply some girl brought along from the surrounding area. She was a demon. A pure, unadulterated demon.
Wrapped in a darkness so profound, her presence alone was enough to threaten the world—a declaration one could make without exaggeration. Dull, ash-colored hair. Clothing of a twisted, peculiar design. Skin as white as a corpse. And eyes that brimmed with a hatred as though she loathed the entire world.
He remembered being stared at by her and shuddered slightly.
"Whether the being you encountered was truly the King of Ruin, I cannot say. But it was certainly something foul. Even I can tell now that my belly is full and a little Mana has returned to me. This forest is wrong. We should have realized sooner."
Had they grasped the forest's danger earlier, they might have avoided this situation. Even entering the Great Cursed Realm, they could have chosen a path to avoid an encounter with such entities. But reality did not unfold that way. Because it did not, this crisis had now arrived before them. Arrived, and was poised to bring calamity.
"In exchange for the food, what did you offer?"
"You offered nothing. You merely received food unilaterally."
"Hmph, why would an evil existence offer charity without demanding payment?"
"We don't know. We were simply asked about our circumstances, and we answered. That is all."
"Then why did the King of Ruin take such action?"
A silence fell.
Gia didn't understand either. At the very least, he believed that forces entirely different from the common sense he had cultivated so far were at work.
Evil existences hate all living things.
Because they hate them, they never take actions that would benefit living beings.
Exceptions would be cases where a contract involving some form of payment is in place, or when they are setting a trap...
However, Gia was thinking of something entirely different. He believed in another possibility.
That was why, even while fearing he might be deceived, he put his own feelings into words and conveyed them to the elderly man with the withered-branch staff.
"Compassion."
"Compassion... you say?"
Vigilance surfaced in Old Mortar's eyes.
It was now close to outright hostility, and indeed, he quietly placed his hand on the staff he had set on the ground, hoping Gia wouldn't notice.
"Yes, compassion. That being felt pity for our circumstances and bestowed this charity upon us."
"You... did you just refer to 'that being'? Have you been deceived!?"
"Absolutely not!"
"Then why utter such delusions? 'That being' is a term of respect!"
Anger erupted. Old Mortar's staff left the ground and was thrust toward Gia.
Aging as he may be, he was a battle-tested mage who had survived countless engagements. For the warrior chief Gia to leap back, the old mage would still cast his spell faster. Yet despite knowing his death was imminent, Gia, without a trace of fear, retorted to the furious mage.
"He provided for us! When we were starving! It is only natural to show respect!"
"But the other party is an evil existence! Can you not feel the miasma of ruin that permeates this forest?!"
"What does the miasma matter?! He looked upon us, the starving, and called us 'pitiful.' That is the truth!"
"It is a deception! He uses pleasant words to beguile you!"
"Then! What were we supposed to do, huh?! The fact that we can even stand here now, wasting our strength on this argument, is because He filled our bellies!"
With those words, the exchange, which had bordered on shouting, came to an end. Elder Mortar had understood this for some time now. What would have become of them if the King of Ruin had not bestowed his charity...
It was only that his anxiety and terror, the future shrouded in an unknowable darkness, had driven him to such rage.
And at the same time, it was here that he finally admitted—and had no choice but to admit—that they had no path forward except to proceed and negotiate with this being who appeared to be the King of Ruin.
"Hey, Elder Mortar... what should I have done...?"
"I don't know that either..."
The answer came in a hoarse voice, just as weary as the small question it responded to, revealing that none of the dignity they once possessed remained. No one knew what should be done. Because they could do nothing, they had no choice but to accept the reality before them. That was all.
"I'm sorry, Gia, brave warrior of the clan. You did well."
Gia accepted the apology with a slight nod.
He too understood well the crushing pressure felt by one who would lead the tribe as the next chief candidate.
"I shall conduct the negotiations with the king as the tribe's elder. I know not what that being thinks, but I have lived for two hundred years. I shall manage something."
"I leave it to you."
And so the discussion ended.
Only the gentle crackling of burning logs enveloped the two of them.
"When will we finally be able to pass the night without worry..."
The food that the king had casually produced existed in vast quantities. What they had carried back with all their might was not even a tenth of it, and they had been told by the attendant girl to bring the rest back soon as well.
He would have to go see him again by the next day at the latest.
Gear informed the chief of this, and they discussed several points for future policy.
The Ruinous King recorded in the legends. At the very least, an existence of such evil that one could be convinced of the truth of those tales.
Elder Mortar gazed up at the stars in the night sky, trying to suppress an emotion he had long forgotten: fear.
………
……
…
Meanwhile at that same time.
The existence feared by Elder Mortar and the other Dark Elves, the Ruinous King, was...
"Takuto, sit properly! What did you use what little mana you had for something like that?!"
"B-because he looked pitiful, so I just..."
"Because is not an excuse!!"
"Hyaa!!"
I was in the middle of being lectured by one of my own subordinates for this waste.
=Eterpedia===
[Dark Elf]Race
"Race Bonus"
Forest Bonus: +15%
Night Vision Bonus: +5%
Cold Resistance Bonus: +10%
Breeding Potency Bonus: -5%
Food Production Bonus: -5%
———
~~Strong light begets an equal darkness. Even the fairies of light are no exception~~
Dark Elves are a neutral race descended from the ancient elves.
They specialize primarily in magic classified as dark-element and in assassination. As racial traits, they possess a Forest Bonus, a Cold Resistance Bonus, and a Night Vision Bonus.
On the other hand, they have lost the magical aptitude and archery proficiency that elves possess, inevitably demanding a different playstyle.