Ivan Petrovich swung his axe as he deflected an incoming spear. With a sickening crunch, the head of the elf-shaped maggot burst open.
No matter their form, the head wasn't these creatures' weakness. They were a swarm composed of countless magical beasts. Yet when the headless form scattered, it collapsed to the ground in a heap.
"KEEEENG—!!"
While he was frowning at this transformation, his Line-of-Fire Detection flashed sharply. Ivan quickly tilted his head, dodging an arrow that grazed his cheek.
Looking straight ahead, he saw an elf in clothing nocking another arrow. The arrow, bow, and clothing were all made of magical beasts.
His cheek stung. Though he had clearly dodged, the arrowhead had opened its maw and bitten the side of his cheek.
"They're becoming more sophisticated."
"Pardon?"
"Those creatures."
Ivan answered briefly and brought his axe down hard. Another approaching elf shattered and scattered.
He was gradually becoming short of breath. He couldn't gauge how long or how he had been fighting. Not only was space distorted here, but time as well.
"Why... human... in sanctuary?"
"Kill... inferior..."
The elves approached, mumbling vacantly. The creatures that had been attacking randomly were now starting to mix in "techniques," clutching weapons made of maggots.
-KAANG—!!
It was the first time his attack had been blocked. Ivan watched as the spear shaft blocking his axe opened a toothed maw and gnawed at his axe blade. He quickly twisted his body.
With a crunch, the axe blade crushed the spear shaft and burst the elf holding it. Viscous fluid splattered onto the hem of his coat.
They were developing intelligence. These creatures were displaying techniques and skills he hadn't seen before.
"Elfihera."
"Yes, Lord Yeremov."
"Do you recognize that clothing?"
"Just... just a moment. It's too fast. Just a moment, please."
Elfihera peeked her head out from the coat hem and carefully surveyed the surroundings. Her face paled at the writhing forms, but she gradually narrowed her eyes with composure.
She soon nodded and answered.
"It's extremely old traditional clothing. So this really is... hmm. No, this must be the Forest of Ancestors."
Anger flickered in Elfihera's eyes.
"They've defiled this forest and implanted the souls of our ancestors into swarms of magical beasts. The ancestors who were here must have..."
They killed the ancestors who had become trees, extracted their souls, and implanted them into swarms of magical beasts. The beasts, now gaining intelligence, were voraciously devouring the ancestors' souls to grow their flesh.
"Those aren't your ancestors, Elfihera."
"I know. I know they're just magical beasts swallowing and mimicking them... but still... this is."
This would be the most terrible insult that could be committed against elves.
Ivan nodded at her words. The dead should remain dead. There is no greater insult than making the deceased walk again.
The most beautiful death for elves was in the Forest of Ancestors. These creatures were desecrating that noble tradition that had continued since ancient times in the most horrific way.
By creating the Seven Dragon Generals in the heart of the elf lands that despised demon-kind.
"Do you see any possibilities?"
"Magic? Hmm... I'm not incompetent, really. I was actually called the greatest prodigy in the history of the Astronomy School."
"I know."
Your father boasted about you so much.
Ivan tucked Elfihera's head back into the coat hem and took a deep breath.
"Take your time."
If what they lacked was time, it wasn't difficult to provide it.
Ivan firmly gripped the axe handle with fingertips gradually losing sensation in the extreme cold, and finished speaking.
Elfihera nodded slightly inside the coat hem and firmly grasped his sleeve.
"One hour... no, give me two hours. I'll finish this no matter what."
"Mm."
Elfihera glanced up at Ivan through the gaps in the thick coat.
His skin, glistening with magical beast fluid, was cracked and frozen in the extreme cold. Nevertheless, he was diverting most of his magical power to her, maintaining only minimal body heat for himself.
Even as he himself was gradually freezing and slowing down, the magical power flowing to her never wavered.
The number of enemies was increasing.
Elfihera surveyed the surroundings with trembling eyes. Were they becoming more accustomed with time? The swarms of magical beasts disguised as elves were gradually increasing.
Each individual entity was now using techniques. They thrust spears, shot arrows, and occasionally wielded swords in combat.
Ivan was slaughtering them all like a lion among sheep, but their numbers seemed endless. At first there were about a dozen, then twenty or thirty, but now there appeared to be well over a hundred.
Time was running out. Against arithmetically increasing, infinite enemies, the only way to guarantee both Ivan's life and her own was—
'To restore magic.'
Fortunately, this space was filled with magical power. Though it wasn't the kind that could be used immediately, there was certainly potential fuel available.
Then she needed to find a method. Even if it meant changing her body's constitution. She needed to derive a magical formula optimized for this magical power.
Theoretical work was her specialty. Elfihera closed her eyes tightly and sat down. She could feel Ivan standing in front of her.
Even as she began to meditate, she couldn't let go of Ivan's sleeve that she was holding.
In the chaos of airships falling from the sky and elves losing their magic and screaming in the darkness, only one place showed the least damage and fastest response.
Iberenden, the island ruled by the Sword Order.
It was never a region of magical societies to begin with. It was a land far removed from magical engineering. Moreover, its ruler was Adel of the Chakkan.
She was the legendary swordsman who had faced the Seven Dragon Generals, bought time for allies to retreat, and returned alive. No one would dare ignore her and the Sword Order to start a riot, even if a handful of magical power disappeared.
"It's been a long time since we've sailed normally to Idranhill."
Adel narrowed her eyes as she held onto the anchor rope on the storm-tossed deck. The Sword Order's warships were cutting through waves that rose like fortress walls as they crossed the sea.
Seven hundred elves who had entered the Domain of the Transcendent—elves who had devoted their long lives solely to swordsmanship—were aboard eleven warships crossing the Kalion inland sea.
"What do you mean we can't set sail immediately?!"
"Calm yourself, you look unseemly."
Aislif pressed her tired eyes as she looked at her shouting daughter and her companions.
"What island has the capacity to set sail right now? We're struggling just to maintain port facilities."
"What about sea navigation?"
"Those who know how to do that are mostly humans."
For airship operation it might be different, but for sea navigation, most crews were human. The labor costs were ridiculously cheap, and there was no risk of mutiny.
Important cargo was transported by air. Most trade could be entrusted to airships. So sea navigation meant humans coming to Kalion with ships out of necessity.
Even in other cases, they might use elves as ship owners, but the actual navigation was done by humans. Humans were a race as numerous as goblins.
Therefore, at this point when all transportation systems including airships had stopped, elves capable of sea navigation were refusing to board ships.
"Do you want to be surrounded by humans in the middle of the sea? Wouldn't that be too dangerous?"
"This is...!!"
An elf mage who couldn't use magic was, in other words, just a scarecrow with a lot of money. On the island, they could suppress others with authority, and since the current situation wouldn't last forever, no one dared to disobey.
But what about at sea? Whatever happened on those small ships, they could disguise it as an accident and run away. How could anyone control that?
"So you're just going to watch? Are you serious?"
"We need to think of a better solution. First, we need to protect the island..."
"If I may speak, Chairman?"
Aislif turned her eyes to the man clinging close to her daughter. He was the eldest son of the Eastvelpen family, her daughter's former fiancé.
The Eastvelpen family was an ancient noble house.
Oswald opened his mouth respectfully to Aislif, who nodded.
"The current disturbance is temporary. You must know this, Chairman. This situation is a disaster caused by the Milestone's malfunction."
"Yes, my disciples are sweating over the Milestone even now. And?"
"If we assume the cause of the situation is certain and its effects are temporary, shouldn't we act like proper elves?"
"Oh? Like proper elves?"
"Isn't it not our role to prepare solutions? Aren't we the great race that stands on the shoulders of giants and looks down upon distant mountains and rivers?"
Aislif couldn't help but smile at this bold young man's words.
"What are you trying to say?"
"I want to discuss what happens after this situation ends."
"You know you're not in a position to take responsibility for what you're saying, right?"
"Even if my father were here now, his opinion wouldn't differ from mine."
Oswald continued with a serious face. After swallowing once, he slowly opened his mouth.
"We must depose Her Majesty the Queen."
"Why?"
"The cause of the Milestone incident is that each family misappropriated the Milestone. The authority to manage the Milestone belongs to the royal family, and the royal court has the authority to seal families by law."
"So we should shift the blame?"
"Yes, having management authority means also bearing responsibility for poor management, doesn't it?"
"Why are you saying this now?"
"Wouldn't any sufficiently thoughtful privy councilor be thinking this right now? They're just confused by the commotion, but it's only a matter of time."
Oswald carefully continued as he faced Aislif, who was looking at him with interest.
"Therefore, the family that reaches Idranhill first will become the symbol of the next government. They can also claim the merit of stabilizing the situation by deposing the queen and supporting a new monarch."
"So we need to set sail now?"
"It might already be too late, Chairman. In a situation where magic has disappeared, which family could logically move first?"
"...The Sword Order. Adelplat Koenulf's."
"Yes. And families who have realized this fact would be hurrying now. At this point when communication between us is cut off—"
Aislif laughed deeply and finished his sentence.
"If the Privy Council convenes again, it will be in Idranhill, and councilors who couldn't even participate remotely will be excluded from the next agenda discussion?"
"Yes, so we should head to Idranhill even at this moment."
"That makes sense. Hahaha!!"
Aislif roared with laughter and patted Oswald's back.
"The Eastvelpen family head has raised his son well. Indeed, you were a spirited child from a young age. I had forgotten that for a moment."
"You flatter me."
"I'll calculate the merit after this situation ends separately."
Aislif praised Oswald and left. The elves who had been leisurely preparing for cold weather began recruiting people and hurrying with sailing preparations.
Lucia, who had been blankly watching this, carefully spoke up.
"Mr. Rustfitz. Are you serious?"
"About what?"
"Deposing the queen and seizing the next government... saying that resolving the situation is the work of inferiors... that kind of, um, elfish...? Elvish talk."
Lucia's eyes were filled with shock. Oswald had been among the most humble of all the elves she had met.
Sometimes he seemed almost like a human in an elf's body. He was polite and kind, even if a bit mischievous.
It felt like facing a new side of such a person. His elvish political acumen was enough to give her goosebumps. It meant he had been deceiving everyone in their group all along.
At her words, Oswald gave a bitter smile.
"I've been thinking."
"Thinking?"
"Yes, everyone has their own strengths. Lucia is Enrique's disciple, Lundis has excellent handiwork, and Elfihera is the best among her peers. Isabelle, Asidis, and Oskar are talents that need no introduction."
"Umm... yes, and?"
"Yu-jin, or rather Yenigev, hears the voice of God directly, and Yuri, despite being a commoner with no education, is top of the Knight School. She could probably defeat even Isabelle or Oskar in swordsmanship."
Everyone shows at least one outstanding talent. In the most appropriate position to complement each other's roles.
And Ivan organizes the party according to their roles. In such a situation, what would be Oswald's own role?
His magic is concentrated solely on Mind Sorcery. It doesn't seem particularly helpful in combat, and for information gathering, Yu-jin's Status Window or Ivan's "potions" are more useful.
And now that magic has disappeared? Elfihera excelled in magical interpretation, so she could take direct action with Ivan in this situation. But what about him?
'I'm just a burden now.'
He doesn't know how to use magic, isn't familiar with the culture or history as he's not from this world, and can't stand out in academic fields. He needs to show his usefulness in another way.
His differentiating factor is being an "elf." And the fact that he has transmigrated into the character of "the genius mage the villainess is obsessed with" in a creative work.
In other words, he can gain the full support of the [villainess].
And the [villainess] of this world is Evelyn Rustfitz, the precious daughter of the Privy Council Chairman. As long as he can receive her support, his role is only this.
Political support.
To be in a position where he can project all possible support from behind the scenes, allowing the hero and his companions to act freely.
To become an unwavering force that will never betray under any circumstances, in a position to provide all possible support.
That was the role he found for himself as a party member. And now was his debut performance.
Because rallying elves required not grand causes, authority, or prestige, but scheming, profit, and political skill.
"This is the best I can do right now. Not very pretty, is it?"
Oswald laughed self-deprecatingly.
It felt like ants were crawling inside her head. Elfihera coughed up blood as she barely managed to calm the wildly rampaging magical power.
She had improved her magical circuit. No, perhaps it would be better to say she had degraded it. She was deviating from the superior elven magical formula and imitating the methods of magical beasts.
Efficiency hit rock bottom, and leaking magical power tore through her body. It felt like her brain was being cooked. She had to endure both surgical precision and torture-like pain simultaneously.
Her concentration was hitting rock bottom. But finally, Elfihera succeeded in moving a thread-like stream of magical power as she wished.
"Lord Yeremov!! I did it!! I—"
How much time had passed? Since time perception was distorted in this space, Elfihera couldn't gauge how long she had been meditating.
When she wiped the blood from her eyes and looked up.
"Lord Yeremov...?"
She saw Ivan, half-devoured, looking down at her.
"How long...?"
"Three days, 13 hours, 21 minutes."
Ivan answered with a faint smile. His right arm had chunks of muscle torn away, hanging grotesquely, and his back and chest were covered in tears, cuts, and puncture wounds.
His outer clothing was gone, and through the tattered remains of his shirt, bare skin was visible. Where blood had frozen and fallen away, old scars clung like ancient mosaics.
New wounds were scattered over them. And.
And.
"I told you. If what we lack is time—"
It's not difficult to provide it. After all, what he could do was just this—using his body.
Ivan answered with trembling lips, gasping from magical exhaustion.
Unlike his right side, which was mangled as if eaten away, his left side.
That is, from the left sleeve that Elfihera had been holding, to his forearm.
Centered on her position, there were no injuries or wounds whatsoever.
"I, I... I... *sob* *hic*..."
"Don't cry."
"This happened because of me!"
Because he had to keep half his body immobile to protect her.
Because he had to continuously transfer magical power to prevent her from freezing to death.
And because he didn't move a single step from where he stood, fearing he might break her concentration.
She was certain that without her, he could have endured three days or more without injury.
Elfihera couldn't hold back her tears and sobbed, rubbing her face against Ivan's hand.
"You're being self-centered."
Ivan silently removed his hand from her face and helped the sobbing Elfihera to her feet.
With his still intact sleeve, untouched by any fluid, he roughly wiped her eyes.
"Your ancestors were quite formidable."
As if to say he wasn't injured protecting her, but simply because the opponents were strong.
After answering that.
"For elves."
He smiled faintly with a joking tone.
Elfihera unconsciously wrapped her arms around Ivan's neck.
When Ivan slightly bent his knees, momentarily losing balance from magical exhaustion, she stood on tiptoe to meet his gaze.
-Swish.
Their breaths mingled at the tips of their noses.
"You'll take responsibility when we get out of here. It's cheating to say things like that with that face."
A moment later, Elfihera pulled her head away and whispered tearfully.