Chapter 129: Moon Creek City, The Road of Return

“Creak…” Once again, the door was pushed open, and everyone’s eyes were drawn to that half-open gap, searching within it for the answer they had been longing for.

The one who walked out of the door was no longer Fred, but Millia.

I felt as if something beneath my heart was stabbing it, making it contract and twitch uncontrollably. I wanted to ask something, but I did not dare make a sound.

Evlinna rushed over like the wind, stood in front of Millia, and looked at her, also without saying a single word. Her eyes were panicked yet hopeful, and the lamplight from inside the room reflected in them, burning them into a sheet of golden glow.

The atmosphere turned strange and heavy. Tens of thousands of people had gathered here, yet not even the sound of breathing could be heard.

Millia looked very tired. Many weak beads of sweat had appeared on her forehead, forcing her to wipe them away with her hand. Her blood-stained hands brushed across her brow, leaving her face covered in grime. Yet these bodily fluids that gave off a stench of blood did not in the least taint the holy face of a devout believer. On the contrary, they made her look even more sacred and noble.

Millia said nothing either. She simply smiled at us, gently nodded, and then made a gesture asking for silence, signaling the people gathered before the door to disperse and not disturb Roll’s rest.

The surgery was a success!

Roll was still alive!

A surge of wild joy mercilessly gripped my throat, making it almost impossible for me to breathe, let alone make any annoying sound. But I wished it would come even more fiercely and hold on even tighter. In the suffocation of joy, I heard two sobs break the stillness of the night. The tears fell into the grass, becoming tomorrow morning’s dew, praising the joy in people’s hearts.

One was Evlinna. Upon seeing Millia’s smile, she almost immediately collapsed to the ground, tightly hugging Millia’s legs, sobbing so hard she could not speak. The excessive mental burden had nearly crushed this strong girl. When it was finally released at the moment right before her collapse, even healthy limbs could no longer bear any weight, let alone the limbs of a girl who had spent so many days in exhaustion and worry.

The other was Red Flame. He weakly threw himself into Kelsey’s arms, like a wronged child who had finally seen his mother. Just a moment ago, while waiting, the guilt-ridden Elf had almost snapped his own fingers, and he had almost bitten his own mouth until it bled. But now, everything was over. Our friend had finally returned safely from the far shore of another world.

Dakla was the first to rush into the room. His steps were swift and light, without making a single sound. We followed him in. Supported by Eckdin, Evlinna also walked inside.

Roll lay quietly on the bed, breathing evenly, his expression relaxed, a smile on his face. His complexion was still pale, and a faint flush of red beneath his pale skin showed that he was still running a fever. But just by looking at his expression, we could tell that the pain that had been tormenting him could no longer continue to trouble him.

I had never seen Roll look so peaceful and calm. He looked like a young boy, the way he truly should have been, not a cold-blooded killer, not a ghoul on the battlefield, not a phantom holding a dagger. He looked very lovely like this, very gentle too.

Evlinna could not help but take hold of his severely injured right hand and gently stroke it. Millia said it would take at least a month before it could begin to heal properly. That was good. At least it would stop him from going off and doing anything dangerous again.

Fred hugged each of us as we entered the room to celebrate. In his embrace, I could feel his excitement. When Red Flame walked through the door, the two of them hugged each other fiercely and did not let go for a long time.

My face was sometimes warm, sometimes cool, as several threads of sensation crisscrossed along the skin of my cheeks.

Were those tears?

If they were, then let them flow. We had already endured too much pain and suffering, shed too many bitter, sour tears over the endless deaths and sorrows. How long had it been since we last shed tears of joy? And what a wonderful thing this was!

The tears flowed into my mouth. They were sweet, my sense of taste told me…

Riding horses on a mountain path was not a pleasant thing. Our mounts struggled forward with unsteady steps on the rugged road, and the extraordinary bumpiness made our heads spin and ache. Branches from the roadside stretched out at an angle, occasionally scratching our faces and leaving red or white marks behind.

Up ahead, Red Flame rode on his mount, clearing the path for us without a word. His twin blades danced fiercely, cutting most of the annoying branches down to the ground. Watching his lonely and stubborn back, I felt a little worried for him…

“Fred, let me go talk to those Elves.” On the night Roll was out of danger, Red Flame said to Fred with reddened eyes. There was a dangerous aura about him that made us uneasy about his proposal.

“Let’s wait a while first, my friend,” Fred advised. “It seems we’re not exactly welcome. To persuade them, we’ll need some time.”

“If you don’t agree, I’ll go by myself, Fred. No matter what you all think, this matter has to do with me. If I don’t go now, things like this may happen even more in the future. As an Elf, this is something I cannot tolerate.” Red Flame clenched his fists. He had made up his mind. Without waiting for Fred’s decision, he turned and walked toward the door. At the moment he stepped out of the room, I heard a firm voice coming from Red Flame’s mouth: “I have waited too long already…”

Once Red Flame had made up his mind, there was nothing we could do to change it. And so, with me, Fred, Kelsey, Poirot, Eliot, and Robert Wilance, the stubborn blacksmith who had narrowly escaped death, we followed the angry and conflicted Elf warrior and set out on the road to the Elf Forest.

Turning past a grove of trees, the body of an armored soldier lay sprawled there. It was one of our soldiers, with four arrows stuck in his back, each one fatal. This was not the first corpse we had seen, yet grief and pain still seized us, and we could not control ourselves.

Red Flame walked over, drew his own blade, and began to dig at the side. A blade was a weapon meant to take lives, not a tool for burying the dead, so Red Flame handled it clumsily, cutting his own arm a few times. When he had dug out a grave large enough to hold a body, he gently placed the unfortunate soldier into it with his blood-soaked hands, and then, handful after handful, he scattered the dirt over him with his own hands until his body was completely buried.

When it was done, Red Flame planted the dead man’s sword in front of his grave, knelt on one knee, and bowed his head to pray in the Elvish language, his voice sorrowful and mournful. After a while, he stood up again, lightly tapped the short sword that served as a tombstone with the back of his own blade, stood in silence for a moment, and then walked back toward his mount.

Kelsey, her heart aching, wanted to bandage the wounds on the arm of her beloved from another race, but Red Flame silently pushed her away and continued forward in silence.

This was not the first time he had done such a thing. Since stepping onto this road, we had seen the corpses of many soldiers who had once followed Roll in battle against the Elves and had unfortunately died from arrow wounds and magic. Every time he saw a corpse, Red Flame would repeat this solemn ritual. At first, we wanted to help him, but he refused.

“They died because of the Elves’ folly, so let an Elf bury them with his own hands. I couldn’t save them while they were alive. I just want to do what I can for them.” That was what he said.

I did not know why Red Flame always regarded this misfortune as his own responsibility. There was completely no need for him to do so. This matter had nothing to do with him, and we all understood that. In the short span of a few days on this journey, he seemed to have aged all at once. His brows were furrowed the entire time, and his spine had also begun to stoop a little. For long-lived Elves, this was a very frightening thing, especially for a young Elf like him who was just under four hundred years old.

“It’s right ahead.” Robert extended his hand toward a not-too-tall mountain peak ahead. “It’s that mountain. Once we go around that mountain pass, that’s where the Elves attacked us.”

Red Flame’s pupils immediately contracted. He licked his dry lips and quickened his pace.

On the other side of the mountain, we saw something intolerable.

The Elves had piled up the corpses of more than a dozen fallen soldiers and cast them aside, leaving them to rot. The former battlefield was still stained with blood. Large patches of soil had been dyed a dull brown, and we could not tell which patch was soaked with human blood, which was Elven, and which was both.

On the battlefield, flowers were actually blooming, with a bloody red color.

Red Flame trembled all over with fury. Pointing at the pile of corpses that the Elves had discarded outside their own doorstep, his lips trembling, he said in pain: “What have they done? Are these Elves? Are these still Elves? Kind, graceful, beautiful, cherishing life… So this is how the hell Elves cherish life!”

He picked up a corpse, a sight too horrible to bear. Its back had been blown apart, exposing pale vertebrae. When Red Flame tried to lay him down on the ground, his spine suddenly snapped, and his upper body fell limply backward. Several pieces of broken bone fell to the ground from his back, carrying flesh that was already slowly rotting.

This sight broke Red Flame, who had been desperately suppressing his emotions the whole way. He put down the corpse in his hands, drew his twin blades, and charged like a madman into the misty, unsettling forest before him. His blades hacked at a large tree, each strike sending chunks of wood flying. Wood chips scattered through the air, falling piece by piece to the ground with every flash of his blades. As he hacked, he shouted wildly: “Come out, my kin, my brothers, my fellow people! Look at what you yourselves have done! Is there anything you wouldn’t do? Don’t cower in this forest, dreaming your noble and elegant dreams! Come out and look at reality! Can’t you smell the stench of blood on your own hands?”

Seeing Red Flame’s actions, we all widened our eyes in shock. He was mad. He had truly gone mad! An Elf would never treat a tree like this, especially in a forest where Elves lived. Even when they needed to take wood, they only chose withered, dying trees or cut off a few branches. To treat a tree so brutally like Red Flame was doing now was, in the eyes of Elven law, an even greater sin than killing an innocent human. If this was not true madness, no sane Elf would ever do such a thing.

We were just about to call out to Red Flame and persuade him to stop when an arrow suddenly shot in from the side, grazing his cheek and burying itself deep into the tree trunk.

“Cut this sneaky crap and get the hell out here!” The warning arrow did not calm Red Flame down. He reached out, pulled the arrow out, brutally snapped it in two, and threw it to the ground with force. His eyes were bloodshot and his breathing was heavy, like an angry bull.

“Don’t destroy the trees here, human. This is not a place you should be.” From deep within the dense forest, a tall figure gradually revealed himself. He was a typical male Elf, about the same height as Red Flame, but he looked much more slender, with very fair skin. He wore a set of gray-purple fitted cloth armor, and his beige hair spread down his back, soft and glossy, like a waterfall of fine metal threads. In his hand he held a finely crafted recurve bow, a quiver full of arrows hung diagonally across his back, and a short sword was fastened at his waist. Handsome as he was, his arrogant demeanor was off-putting.

“Perhaps so, ‘Silver Fingers’ Astra. From where you stand, you can say humans are forbidden to set foot here. But do you have the right to drive me away?” Facing this Elf who had appeared suddenly, Red Flame showed not the slightest surprise. He proudly took off his helmet, revealing his full appearance to his opponent.

“Zobul, is that you? You’ve come back?” After seeing Red Flame clearly, the male Elf called “Astra” was greatly shocked. He shouted Red Flame’s Elven name and ran forward in surprise and delight. It was obvious that they knew each other — were even very familiar — friends, a thought that made me feel uncomfortable.

“Thud!” The moment they came close, Red Flame grabbed him by the collar and threw him heavily onto his back. Through the swirling mist, I vaguely saw his expression. He looked disturbed, carrying both the anger at Roll’s severe injury and the soldiers’ deaths, and the joy and relief of seeing an acquaintance — perhaps a friend.

“What are you doing, Zobul? Are you crazy? Let go of me! Why are you destroying the trees?” Astra had no idea what Red Flame was thinking. Astonished by Red Flame’s behavior, he struggled to his feet and shouted with some irritation.

Astra’s words seemed to provoke Red Flame’s anger. Red Flame grabbed him by the collar, forcefully dragged him out of the forest, brought him to our side, and pointing at the bloody, mangled pile of corpses, he demanded loudly: “Who did this? Did you people do this? Tell me, was it Helena? Was it?”

Astra had not expected Red Flame to ask such a question. For an instant, his expression turned somewhat embarrassed. He lowered his head in shame and answered in an extremely faint voice: “This was not what we wanted, but, you know, they…”

Red Flame brutally cut off his explanation and shouted: “Tell me, was it Helena?”

Astra opened his mouth, but in the end, he nodded in distress.

“Look at what you all have done!” In a fury, Red Flame dragged Astra over to the pile of corpses and forced his face to face the dead bodies covered in blood and filth. Astra struggled with all his might, but the cleanliness unique to the Elves made it impossible for him to face these vile things. Compared to Red Flame, however, his strength was nothing. Seeing that his face was about to touch a corpse, Astra shut his eyes in panic.

Red Flame let go at the very last moment and threw the Elf, who was powerless to resist, onto the ground.

“I want to see Helena,” he said coldly.

“You can go see her anytime, Zobul.” Astra gasped heavily on the ground, still shaking from fright.

“I’m bringing my friends.” Red Flame pointed at us.

Astra looked at us and frowned. Especially when he saw Poirot and Eliot, the disgust in his eyes was particularly obvious. If Red Flame had not been standing right there, I suspected he would have already drawn his weapon and attacked them.

“Friends? Them? That’s impossible, Zobul. You know Helena won’t agree.” Astra asked in confusion. From his expression, we could tell that in his mind, we and the word “friends” should never have anything to do with each other.

“I said, I’m bringing my friends!” Red Flame raised his voice. His tone was not at all like he was talking to an ordinary acquaintance or friend, but rather… rather like he was giving a command. Yes, he was issuing orders. Even in the army, when he was commanding his own cavalry unit, he had never commanded anyone like this. The feeling was as if… as if he possessed an enormous power that no one could defy.

“Two hundred years ago, my words were not taken seriously. Back then, I was still a child. I don’t know if my words can carry any weight now.”

Such words left Astra with nothing to argue against. He sighed, reluctantly averted his contemptuous gaze from us, turned around, and walked into the forest. Red Flame made a gesture to us, signaling us to follow him.

“What’s going on, Red Flame?” Fred could not help but ask.

“I told you, Fred. This matter concerns me, and it concerns me greatly. If there is only one person who should be held responsible for this, it’s me. It can only be me.” Red Flame said to us with guilt. As he walked, he stroked one large tree after another that he passed, his demeanor and expression completely different from when he had been chopping trees just now.

“I never told you all where I came from, my friends. In fact, this place is my home…”

“The ones who hurt Roll… they… are all my people…”

Many shrub branches twisted and tangled before us. They were messy and sharp, and when they poked against our bodies, they hurt.

That was probably how Red Flame felt in his heart right now.

If no one had led the way, we would surely have gotten lost in this intricate jungle. Just the tree shadows blocking out the sky were enough to make people lose all sense of direction. What was more, according to Poirot, this enormous Elf Forest was filled with many eerie magical powers that made people lose their way.

Without knowing how far we had walked, we emerged from the dense jungle. Suddenly, what appeared before me was an Elven city.

Everything here was built following the natural forms of the trees. Countless Elves lived in great tree hollows, or in houses built between several large trees, assembled from processed branches and wooden planks. Do not think such buildings were crude. Quite the contrary, they could only be described as “exquisite.” The Elves’ intelligence and ingenuity made this place both naturally charming and as bustling as a city. Only one thing made me feel uneasy: although it was beautiful here, a lifeless feeling kept hovering around us the entire time. Apart from their hostility toward us — mainly toward the Dark Elf — the Elves who walked past us wore expressions of boredom and numbness for the most part. Even the children, who were not yet a hundred years old, put on arrogant, cold faces that made them hard to approach.

In such a vast city, not even a sound of commotion could be heard.

Red Flame’s appearance caused a stir here. He was clearly an important figure in this place. Many adult Elves showed signs of respect after seeing him, but he turned a blind eye to it all.

Astra went over to a young Elf and exchanged a few words in the Elvish language. I roughly understood some of it. Astra was having that Elf tell Helena that Red Flame had returned, and to prepare a welcome at the Temple of the Goddess of Nature Naichenia.

He turned around and told this news to us — no, he told it to Red Flame. Finally, doing his best to forget Red Flame’s unfriendly behavior toward him just now, he said to him sincerely: “Welcome back to Moon Creek City. You’re home.”

These words stirred some emotion in Red Flame. At this moment, he could no longer maintain his hostility toward Astra. With a nostalgic and delighted expression, he nodded.

The Temple of the Goddess of Nature was at the center of this city. It was built with sixteen enormous trees as its foundation pillars. I did not know what kinds of trees they were. Each one was so thick that it would take six or seven people joining arms to encircle it. They were arranged very neatly in rows and columns, and one could enter from any direction. I felt that rather than a temple, this was more like a plaza formed by enormous trees.

When we slowly walked over to that place, a beautiful but cold female Elf was standing at the center of the Temple, waiting for Red Flame’s arrival. Around her were several elderly Elves with long white beards. Their eyes were lowered, and they looked very solemn. I could not imagine the ages of these Elves. They looked as if they had been alive ever since this world was just born.

“It’s her! It’s her! She killed those soldiers and nearly killed Lieutenant Colonel Roll!” At this moment, Robert pointed at the Elf woman and let out a cry of shock. His voice carried memories of fear, but even more so, feelings of anger.

His cry broke the stillness of the place, and the surrounding Elves all glared at him angrily.

Red Flame’s expression looked even worse.

When they were about to reach the center of the Temple, Red Flame signaled us to stop. He alone walked forward to meet the Elf woman.

Soon, the two of them were standing face to face.

The two of them looked at each other, all kinds of expressions constantly shifting across their faces. No one could tell what they were feeling at that moment.

After a while, Red Flame finally broke the silence. In the common tongue of the continent, he said softly to the Elf woman:

“I’m back, Sister Helena.”

Sister? This arrogant female Elf Helena, who had killed dozens of soldiers and nearly taken Roll away from us, was actually the sister Red Flame often mentioned — the one who often scolded him and seemed both kind and strict? This was the most astonishing thing I had heard all day — that is, if we did not count what Helena said in response to Red Flame.

In our astonishment, Helena knelt down on one knee. Not just her — the awe-inspiring elders around her also followed her and did the same. In the entire Temple, the only ones still standing, apart from us, were Red Flame.

“Welcome home…” Helena also spoke in the common tongue — it seemed to be deliberately said for us to hear, even though it clearly made her very uncomfortable. “Noble Zobul, Lord of Moon Creek City, Chanter of the Moon and the Stars.”