Just as Eric and Elara had finished slaughtering countless innocent mortals, one of the Mana Wielders in front of Lysandra turned and charged toward the main gate.
Lysandra had made sure to drain this Mage's Mana entirely, or else it wouldn't serve the purpose she had in mind.
She quickly cried out in panic, "Eric, Elara, one of the Mana Wielders is charging toward both of you. An early-stage Rank 1 Mage—you brats should be able to finish him; my hands are busy at this moment!"
Elara swiftly threw her exhaustion miles away and turned serious.
She tightly gripped her bow and was prepared to fight anyone or anything.
She wouldn't allow anyone to harm her Eric!
Eric rolled his eyes at Lysandra's panicked 'warning.' It was too obvious!
But when Eric saw the new contestant charging toward them, he was stunned—then his eyes sparkled.
He swiftly raised an arm toward Elara to stop her from attacking the guy.
This kid belonged to him!
Not that Eric hated the boy, but this was a past connection best cleansed by him personally.
Lysandra already knew whom she had sent off: the son of the tribal chief! In other words, the boy who attacked Eric together with his sister.
She had already investigated the matter, as this was the main reason for today's tribal ceremony of these 'Umbran Wildfolk.'
Lysandra had intentionally released the Dark Elf boy first and, at the same time he reached the gate—which was filled with blood and gore of his tribe members—she removed most of her 'Will' over him, making sure he didn't think too 'deeply' about what he was doing moments ago. Otherwise, her own skillful acting would be exposed, and all the fun would be ruined.
-
Darothil was the sole son of the chief of the Dark Elf Tribe, known as the Umbran Wildfolk.
Today was the ceremonial day for the entire tribe—the slaughter and feasting over the human tribe would commence after their ritual and worship of their deity, Vel'Tharok the Dark One, was complete.
Everything was going well. Everyone was celebrating—but Darothil was not in any mood to celebrate.
He was heartbroken, miserable, and melancholy over his sister's untimely and unjust death—a sneak attack from a mere human mortal worm!
He and his sister, Lunaefyr, were very close to each other. He loved her playful, cheerful attitude.
A few days ago, while they were exploring the forest and having fun, they suddenly stumbled upon a lost human piglet.
Since it was just a lone mortal, they decided to play more with their snack—but that food actually tried to fight back while just being a mortal! Ridiculous!
That was the first time the entire tribe had heard such nonsense.
It was always them playing and hunting!
If it had been a human Mana Wielder who resisted, it would've been understandable—but how dare a mortal fight back? They should only focus on running, like the pigs they were!
But this one fought back. And because this was something completely new to both Darothil and Lunaefyr, they failed to respond in time—and Lunaefyr perished due to that human's sneak attack.
Sadly, the human died too quickly—otherwise, they would've made sure to keep him alive long enough until he regretted his audacity.
The whole Umbran Wildfolk tribe was in an uproar after Lunaefyr's death. How could they take such an insult? More importantly, Lunaefyr was dearly loved by everyone.
They had already given the human tribe a month of freedom—but how dare these weaklings retaliate against their generosity!
Most of them immediately wanted to slaughter the entire human tribe in revenge for their treacherous action against their Night Jewel, Lunaefyr. But the tribe chief, Thalrok Ironbough—though heartbroken—didn't allow it.
Rituals must be performed to please their deity.
Sacrifices must be made before they could feast upon their hunts.
This rule must not be broken!
But the entire Umbran tribe—who always stood for each other and cared for each other like one big family—couldn't relax until they had taken satisfying revenge for Lunaefyr.
How could they wait an entire month? Where was the justice in this?!
So, after much pressure, Chief Thalrok finally gave in. He, too, had lost his jewel of a daughter—so he wished to feast on these humans, young and old, as revenge.
Thus, the ritual was decided to be moved up. Instead of a month later, they would hold the ceremony in a few days—on the full moon night.
Everyone in the tribe was celebrating, as they should—but Darothil couldn't bring himself to.
His friends, brothers, sisters—all whom he cared deeply for—tried to cheer him up, but he remained unmoved. Even the kind, loving uncles and aunts tried—but it didn't work.
Darothil loved all the tribe members like family—but Lunaefyr was someone he dearly loved. They had enjoyed each other's company—so how could he celebrate when Lunaefyr was no more?
So, Darothil refused everyone's kind intentions and sat in the corner, drinking wine after wine.
Sadly, no matter how many humans 'live stocks' he killed and tortured this night—his sister wouldn't come back.
And he blamed himself deeply for that.
If only he had known how treacherous and cunning these humans were… Sadly, the last livestock sacrifice had been over a decade ago—when he was just a child of less than ten years old. He didn't remember much—which was why he never took caution—and let that mortal pig sneak-attack Lunaefyr…
He couldn't soothe his regretful heart—and so, he didn't join his tribe in celebration.
-
While the ceremonial celebration was underway, suddenly, two of their people guarding the main gate were shot by arrows and flung inside the tribe camp.
Although they couldn't see the culprits, the situation warned them that someone was attacking.
They couldn't understand who would dare—no one nearby should be capable enough to pick a fight with them!
Suddenly, at that moment, a terrifying figure appeared on the backside of the tribe village—and so, all the Mana Wielders charged toward this enemy.
It was understood that if they all attacked together, they would surely defeat their enemy with the blessing of Vel'Tharok by their side.
And so, they all got busy attacking this enemy—but because of this, they didn't notice another enemy attacking the main gate.
They thought the previous attack on their guards had been done by this sole intruder—who was currently attacking from the back gate.
No one questioned how the intruder who attacked from the main gate had suddenly appeared behind them almost instantly.
They believed it was this intruder's trick—to make them think they were at the front—only to attack the innocent tribe members from behind.
But Darothil—who was behind the tribe's Mana Wielders' formation—came to his senses after some time and quickly turned back, charging toward the front gate.
He suddenly had a bad premonition—someone else was attacking their family members at the main gate.
And now, he smelled the thick scent of blood from the front of their village.
Darothil didn't even call out to inform the others—he charged toward the front gate at full speed.
He had already lost his sister—he wouldn't lose a single tribe member now!
They were all his precious family.
The lives of the entire human livestock couldn't compare to a single hair of an Umbran Wildfolk!
He wouldn't allow even one to die—no matter who these cunning intruders were!
-
The moment Darothil arrived, all he saw were heaps of his tribe members' corpses—brutally murdered—strewn across the ground.
Large holes in their stomachs, chests, throats, heads… blood flowing like a river.
It was as if the entire ground had bathed in thick red blood—the blood of his family.
Darothil's brain froze.
He thought it was a nightmare—he just needed to wake up—and soon, his brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts—everyone—would come to cheer him up.
Yes—he must've fallen asleep after drinking so much wine.
This was just a hallucination—a dream—a lie—everything was a lie.
Darothil stood there, waiting for the nightmare to end—but soon, what woke him was the horrible stench of blood.
He realized—this was real.
All his family—with whom he had grown up—all the kind, gentle, happy, united tribe members—were lying dead—their blood bathing the ground beneath them.
Darothil couldn't hold it in anymore—he howled madly at the sky.
Tears streamed from his bloody eyes.
He broke down and cried—seeing his dear brothers, sisters—all those kind faces—lying on the ground with terrified, agonized expressions.
They had died horrified—as if they had woken from a nightmare just before death.
Every single one of them had unwilling faces—tears and blood streaking their cheeks—dying painfully without rescue or help.
Darothil walked limply forward—registering each close acquaintance one by one.
Drizzara, Kyndril, Velrath, Illyria, Erebus…
In the end, he fell to his knees—crying at the top of his lungs.
After crying for a while—he slowly came back to his senses—filled with deep resentment.
Filled with uncontrollable hatred—for the culprit behind this brutal slaughter.
A Mana Wielder must have attacked these sinless mortals—otherwise, though weak—they weren't so weak that another mortal could kill them like this!
Darothil's blood boiled with rage—he would never forgive the bastard who did this!
He looked around—searching for the 'Mana Wielder' culprit—and soon, he found two figures standing a short distance away—directly in front of him.
Darothil stood up—howling in his native language:
"Y-you bastards! How dare you attack these innocent mortals—and kill them so brutally!? You're devils! Demons! I'll tear you apart—remove such evil filth from this world!"
As he bellowed toward the two unknown figures—he strangely found the human male looked familiar.
The human male also wore a disgusting smirk—as if he enjoyed the carnage—the bloodbath he had unleashed—enjoying the slaughter of such kind people in such an unjust, dishonorable, humiliating way.
As he focused more—Darothil was stupefied.
This human male was the one who had killed his dear sister, Lunaefyr!
And now—now—he was also the one who had killed his entire tribe—his family!
The livestock—born only to serve—had fought back so brutally—so cruelly!
'I-I-I'll break his bones with my bare hands! I'll rip apart his flesh—drink his blood!'
"Ahh—!" Darothil howled—charging toward Eric.
Drowning in grief, regret, and vengeance—he forgot his opponent might be a 'Mana Wielder.'
He even ignored the fancy bow the human was holding.
All he saw was breaking—and torturing—this human to death!