Elven Lies II Chapter 164: A Revenge Untold

CHAPTER 164

A REVENGE UNTOLD

“Prince… of Parv…”

Anfaleen laughed—then choked on his own blood.

“So that’s it… Atelier…”

He coughed, smiling through red.

“You don’t even know… do you?”

The world cracked. His voice tore with it.

“Twelve clans… and yours—”

A fracture split the sky.

“—sold you all.”

Silence. Then softer:

“Memory wiped… history buried…”

His eyes locked onto Hans.

“But not forgotten.”

A pause.

“When they rise… they will make the world remember you.”

“Is this your last gamble—a pathetic attempt?”

Hans stepped closer.

“You think fear will save you?”

“You think killing me changes anything?”

A broken laugh.

“I was never the end.”

He glanced—past Hans.

To Zilong.

“I was… preparation.”

Silence.

“You can still—”

He coughed.

“—be useful.”

A grin through blood.

“I can take you to them.”

“—maybe they will forgive you.”

A breath.

“Or at least… spare you their judgement.”

Hans’s eyes didn’t waver.

Not rage. Not doubt.

Just… decision.

“Think Parvian.” Anfaleen pressed. “Killing me will disrupt their plan. Why make unnecessary enemies? So, help me—help you?”

Hans glanced at people’s faces. The infected who could see them through the breaking spirit worlds.

Then right back at the man squealing before him

“They must’ve said the same.”

“You fool.”

Anfaleen coughed.

“There was no freedom for them.

Do you think killing me will stop everything?

No—

Those were at least living.

You’ve doomed their lives.”

“Living?”

Hans fumed.

“They were waiting to die.”

A step forward.

“Afraid they’d become the ones who kill.”

Hans turned to them.

“Trying matters—”

“—More than dying.”

“I’ll make you understand their pain. The pain when something precious is taken away.”

“None of this matters, Parvian.”

Anfaleen whispered.

“When he comes… you’ll understand how small this all was. So think carefully—”

“I finished thinking.”

The world finally broke completely.

They were back.

To the Council node.

To the ruined keep.

To the world where Solunox hung in shadow.

The world’s eyes were on him.

His on Anfaleen.

He raised his sword, ‘Kindness’.

Slowly shifting the blade.

From high to now forward.

Just as the sword began to shift,

The fear rose in Anfaleen’s eyes.

It now aimed at Aelok’s direction.

He turned towards Hans.

Who was gazing at himself.

“No,” he shook.

“No.”

But Hans remained cold.

Unbothered.

As if this was already written—

long before either of them stood here.

Anfaleen hastily moved his eyes.

Shifted.

Met the child’s.

Saw.

No fear.

No hatred.

No anger.

Just—

Disappointment.

Anfaleen froze.

“…no…”

His breath broke.

“Not you…”

“You’re all I have left of her.”

A pause.

Hans didn’t blink.

“Kerym”

“Jonik”

“Millard”

“Aelok”

—Shack—

His blade shot.

Right through Aelok’s beating heart.

Finally putting a stop to his coarse breathing.

For the first time.

Anfaleen cried.

Agonising.

The Eclipse saw.

The infected saw.

His own Node people saw.

An unbelieving sight.

Anfaleen broken.

A man who refused to die whenever Eclipse attacked him.

Never even frowned.

Now was weeping.

The tormentor who harvested them.

The infected.

Agonised them.

Tortured them.

Now suffering the same fate.

“Look at him.”

Hans didn’t raise his voice.

He didn’t need to.

“This is what you feared.”

His gaze swept across the infected.

“A man.”

A step forward.

“A man who bleeds.”

Another.

“A man who cries.”

His eyes returned to Anfaleen.

“And a man who dies.”

Silence.

“Remember that.”

He raised his hand.

Pulled another from the space pocket.

A milky white sword.

Pure black hilt.

Griffin insignia.

His grip tightened.

The sword screamed.

Not aloud—but through bone.

Rebellion

A blade that rejected all hands.

That punished even a second of defiance.

His skin burned.

Muscles tore under invisible pressure.

…and he didn’t let go.

The blade fought him.

…and did not lost.

He rose it high.

Despite the shredding pain.

Signalling Solunox to end.

The blood creatures—

Stilled.

Then unraveled.

As if something… holding them together—

Had finally let go.

Erased.

Permanently.

Yet when every gaze was on dying blood creatures.

One lingered on Hans.

The hooded man.

That blade—

Impossible.

Delimira’s breath caught.

“That sword…”

A whisper.

“It was taken from him…”

Her eyes narrowed.

“A cursed blade. Then why…”

Her voice thinned.

—Why is it silent in his hand?”

None answered.

Hans’s gaze traced the Node.

The guardians.

The soldiers.

The people who aided Anfaleen.

By choice and by will.

All under his scrutinising gaze.

They understood.

One by one—

weapons fell.

Steel hit stone.

No orders were given.

None were needed.

Suddenly, the air tightened.

Like something unseen had taken hold of it.

Even Solunox flickered.

Not violently.

…hesitantly.

The world paused.

No one moved.

Not out of discipline—

but because something in them refused to.

Even the wounded—

stopped groaning.

Then.

Something had arrived.

Wherever his gaze passed—

heads lowered.

Not by command.

By instinct.

Over the ruin.

Over the corpses.

Over Anfaleen.

…and stopped at Hans.

“So this is the one…”

A voice. Calm. Disinterested.

Hans’s sword hand shifted.

Instantly.

To the unknown entity.

Covered in a black robe.

Fluttering against the wind that wasn’t even flowing.

An old elf.

Or something wearing the shape of one.

But Hans knew what it was very well.

“Strange…” the old elf muttered.

A pause.

“I don’t remember an elf with light—ever. Won’t you show me your face—they say you look quite like him.”

Anfaleen’s breath hitched.

Not at the presence—

But at what it meant.

“…you came… yourself…”

The Ancient’s gaze shifted.

Briefly.

Toward Anfaleen.

A pause.

…damaged.”

The Ancient stilled.

Not physically—

But in intent.

His gaze shifted again.

Not to Anfaleen.

To the sky.

To Solunox.

Someone whispered—

“…it hesitated…”

And no one dared repeat it.

The air tightened further.

As if two forces—

briefly acknowledged each other.

…

Then—

He exhaled.

And looked away.

Hans didn’t move.

“You’re late.”

The sword swung.

Not at him but towards Anfaleen’s neck.

Barely stopping by the hair.

“Care to save him?” Hans asked.

Provocation.

The Ancient didn’t answer.

Not immediately.

His gaze lingered—

Not on Anfaleen.

But on Hans.

Measuring.

Weighing.

Something unseen.

Then—

“No.”

No one breathed.

Not even the wind dared move.

Anfaleen’s eyes widened.

“…wait—”

For the first time—

Not anger.

Not defiance.

Fear.

“You said—”

His voice broke.

“You said I was necessary—”

“You were.”

“I have no interest…”

A pause.

“…in testing that again. Humanity had left two chances.”

“One was wasted… on you.”

A pause.

“Only one feather remains.”

“Stop mumbling—save him—as if you can.” Hans challenged. “You are just a projection—the real you is cowering somewhere in Madaruka.”

The ancient gaze turned sharp.

“Oh don’t stare at me—”

Hans mocked.

“We have a long, hateful relationship with each other—or did you forget how we imprisoned you all.”

“It’s because you couldn’t defeat us.”

“No.” Hans shook.

“We didn’t imprison you because we had to.”

A pause.

“We did it… so you would remember your place.”

Hans forced.

The sword tip at Anfaleen’s throat.

He twisted.

And the head fell.

Rolling down the rubble they were standing on.

No one spoke.

Not because they couldn’t—

but because they understood what had just been done.

Yet his eyes never left the ancient and the clenched fist.

The air around him was changing.

Restraints.

So up high.

Solunox too was changing.

Its burning eyes focussing hard on the unknown entity in its domain.

His fist unfolded.

“Something here …is not worth the cost.”

He raised his hand.

The ground didn’t break.

It yielded.

As if something beneath it—

had been waiting.

When the coffin emerged—

even the air seemed to retreat from it.

As if it had a will of its own.

“This is almost complete…soon.”

It flew past them.

To the Ancient.

“You will pay for it, Atelier, ingrain this in your soul.”

“Get in line.” Hans challenged.

As the Ancient turned to leave:

He paused.

Not for Anfaleen.

Not for Hans.

For Xandor.

His head tilted—just slightly.

As if acknowledging something…

long remembered.

And then—

a faint curve touched his lips.

Not amusement.

Not mockery.

Something quieter.

Colder.

The kind of smile that said—

You can never reach me.

Xandor didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

But something in his gaze hardened.

Not anger.

Not yet.

Something… patient.

The air loosened.

Slowly.

Like something suffocating—

had finally stepped away.

Only then—

did anyone breathe.

High above—

Solunox did not move.

Not immediately.

Its burning gaze remained fixed.

Not on the battlefield.

Not on the fading traces of the Ancient.

On Hans.

For a moment—

the world felt… weighed.

As if something ancient—

was measuring something it did not fully understand.

Its eyes narrowed.

Not in anger.

Not in approval.

In recognition.

And something else.

Something that lingered—

like a question left unanswered.

Then—

the flames dimmed.

As if whatever judgement it carried…

had been postponed.

Its form unraveled.

Not violently.

Not suddenly.

Like a purpose—

that had reached its end.

And then—

it was gone.

***