I Became My Elf King Character In A Game-Like World
Chapter 60: Elves, Ethics, and Extremely Overpriced Gear

Chapter 60: Elves, Ethics, and Extremely Overpriced Gear

The group stepped into a cozy little plaza, where the air hummed with quiet magic. At its heart loomed a towering statue, carved from the gnarled trunk of an ancient magic tree, a wood so rare in human lands it was worth more than castles.

The statue stretched dozens of meters high, its surface smooth and glowing faintly under the sunlight.

Around its base, small fountains bubbled cheerfully, their water rising in delicate streams before dissolving into a fine mist that danced in the light.

The scene was breathtaking, like stepping into a dream woven from nature itself.

Renjiro’s lips quivered as his gaze settled on the statue’s face. It wasn’t the Goddess staring back at him—it was him, crown and all, etched in perfect detail.

He turned to Elaria, who stood at his side, her hair catching the mist. "When did this go up?" he asked, his voice low but curious.

Elaria hid a laugh behind her hand, her eyes sparkling. "Just a few days ago, Your Majesty. Lorien, your mage commander, rounded up a crew of mages to build this plaza. She carved the statue herself—best sculptor we’ve got."

Renjiro’s smile softened, a rare warmth breaking through his usual calm. "Tell Lorien I love it. She’s outdone herself."

Elaria dipped her head. "She’ll be thrilled to hear that."

Lyanna’s gaze drifted to the statue, and her breath caught. "Oh my goddess," she said, her voice bright with awe, "the craftsmanship here is unreal. Your Majesty, this masterpiece could fetch a hundred thousand gold coins—maybe more!" She meant it as a compliment, but her merchant’s mind couldn’t help tallying its worth.

Renjiro glanced at her, his eyes glinting with mischief. "What, you think my statue belongs in your city square? If your lord doesn’t mind a foreign king towering over them, I’d be flattered."

Lyanna froze, her stomach twisting. Was that a jest—or a veiled threat? The idea of war flickered in her mind, unbidden and cold. She waved her hands quickly, forcing a laugh. "Oh, no, your majesty, you’ve got me wrong! I just meant the skill here is stunning. Nobles back home would fight over a piece like this for their estates. That’s all!"

Renjiro’s smile was faint, almost that of someone who was enjoying the scene and he let the moment hang before turning away without a word.

He led Lyanna and Gorren to an open patch near the plaza, where the ground was stained dark with blood.

There sprawled the massive corpse of a magic wolf, its fur matted and black as midnight. It stretched seven or eight meters long, a giant even in death, with jagged bite marks scarring its flank and an arrow buried deep in its chest. Yet its presence still pulsed with a wild, regal strength, as if it might leap up and howl at any moment.

Lyanna and Gorren locked eyes, their thoughts racing in sync. "No doubt about it," Lyanna whispered. "This is a top-tier magical beast."

Gorren nodded, his voice hushed but urgent. "The Dark Wolf Leader—the southern forest’s alpha. The elves took it down. Those magic cores we saw earlier? I bet half of them came from its pack. The wolf clan’s finished, just like the goblins. Wiped out."

They both sucked in a breath, the weight of it sinking in. Only two powers stood in the forest now: the elves and the ogre tribe out west. If Renjiro’s forces crushed the Ogre tribe Leader and scattered the ogres, the elves would rule it all—undisputed lords of the forest.

"When did the elves stop singing about peace and start swinging swords?" Lyanna muttered, stealing a glance at Renjiro.

The Elf King stood tall, his crown glinting, his beauty almost too perfect. This shift, it started with him. But she shook it off. Even if the elves claimed the forest, it wouldn’t shake the human that much.

A stronger neighbor, sure, but the city would adapt. The elves wouldn’t dare march on human towns—not in this age. Humanity’s three great empires held the Continent’s richest lands in an iron grip. Even the beast clans on the plains knew better than to test them. The elves’ golden days were long gone.

Renjiro’s voice cut through her thoughts. "The Dark Wolf Leader’s yours, Ironcrest Merchant Guild."

Lyanna snapped to attention, a grin breaking free. "Thank you, Your Majesty" She strode over, her space ring humming as she stored the beast’s hulking corpse. Then she turned, her tone shifting to business.

"We brought four million gold coins this trip. After settling the three million four hundred thousand for our deal, I’ve got six hundred thousand left. I’d like to spend it on elf gear."

Elf equipment wasn’t just strong—it was art, sleek and elegant, the kind of stuff human nobles drooled over. Every piece fetched a fortune in the city. She tilted her head, testing her luck. "Your Majesty, about the price—could you ease up a bit? Twenty times the base cost feels steep."

Renjiro didn’t flinch. "Even at that, your guild’s raking in profit. One piece runs eight hundred gold coins. No bargaining."

Lyanna’s jaw tightened, frustration bubbling up. She nearly spun on her heel and left. Sure, elf gear sold for over a thousand coins back home, but after shipping and taxes, the margins were razor-thin compared to past deals.

Still, she swallowed it. If she walked away, some rival guild would swoop in—elf craftsmanship was too hot to pass up.

"Fine," she said, forcing the words out. "We’ll take it. But I’d ask you not to sell to other guilds. Keep it exclusive to Ironcrest."

Renjiro’s smile was light, almost teasing. "Relax, Lady Lyanna. We’re partners. At this price, your guild comes first."

Her heart sank. At this price. So if some desperate merchant offered more, he’d jack it up again?

Where was the fabled elf kindness? She squinted at him, half-convinced she saw scales shimmering beneath his skin.

He was no elf—he had to be a dragon transformed into an Elf, the kind that hoarded gold and traded scraps for kingdoms. Lazy, greedy, and way too good at this game.

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