I Became My Elf King Character In A Game-Like World
Chapter 63: A Merchant’s Gamble

Chapter 63: A Merchant’s Gamble

Renjiro and Elaria reached the lakeside moments later, their steps light with urgency. Elaria’s gaze locked on the Unicorn Leader, its form now nearly lost in the swelling light. "Your Majesty, is it breaking through?" she asked, her voice bright with hope.

He nodded, his eyes fixed on the radiant beast. "It must have drink too much Water from spring. The magic’s been building inside it—now it has no choice but to breakthrough."

Elaria’s face glowed, her smile as warm as the sun. "It’s already a peak ninth-circle beast. One more step, and it’ll be the Tenth circle!"

Renjiro watched the light intensify, the Unicorn Leader’s silhouette just visible within. It was more than a creature to him—it was his mount, his companion through countless battles.

A Tenth circle beast at his side would shift the balance of power in ways their enemies couldn’t imagine.

"A mount like that," he murmured, a faint grin tugging at his lips, "now that’s a future worth fighting for."

....

At the jagged edge of the elves’ territory, the Ironcrest Merchant Guild’s caravan rumbled forward, a sprawling line of wagons and weary travelers trailing behind a hulking Wyvern.

Its scales glinted like molten copper under the dim light, and atop its broad back perched Lyra, her auburn hair whipping in the wind.

She leaned forward, playfully swatting the beast’s neck. "Hey! Where’d you run off to earlier? I looked everywhere, and poof—you were gone!"

The Wyvern let out a low, rumbling roar, shaking its massive head as if shrugging off her question. Words weren’t its gift, but through the warm pulse of their magical bond, Lyra felt its answer clear as day.

She huffed, crossing her arms with a mock scowl. "You big scaredy-cat!" wyvern shook its head again, insistent, but Lyra wasn’t buying it.

Ever since they’d crossed into elven lands, the Wyvern had slinked off to the outskirts, refusing to step deeper into the territory.

It wasn’t hard to guess why—rumors of ridge giants smashing anything that moved and the Elf King’s sharp, unyielding gaze were enough to spook even a beast like this.

Coward or not, Lyra thought with a grin, better a live Wyvern than a sheepskin rug. She’d heard plenty about the Elf King’s tricks—those greedy goblins hadn’t stood a chance, and now they bleated instead of bargained.

In the centre of the caravan, Lyanna and Gorren huddled close, their voices barely rising above the creak of wheels and the Wyvern’s heavy steps.

Lyanna’s eyes still sparkled with the memory of Lake. "That winged unicorn we saw—it has to be the Unicorn Leader. I’d bet my last coin it’s on the verge of breaking through."

Gorren nodded, his weathered face tightening with awe. "Even from miles away, I felt its power. A peak ninth-circle magical beast—just one breath away from Tenth circle." His words hung in the air, heavy with wonder.

Lyanna sucked in a sharp breath, her merchant’s mind already racing. A Tenth circle holy unicorn wasn’t just a creature—it was a force, a shimmering juggernaut that could trample any ordinary beast of its rank.

"The mercenaries from the city are fools if they think they can hunt it now. The unicorns are untouchable here. Charging into elven lands would be a death sentence."

"Tens of thousands of elven warriors," Gorren agreed, his voice grim. "Even if every mercenary band in the city banded together, they’d be dust before they breached the border." He paused, then shook his head. "The elves have changed so fast—it’s hard to believe it’s only been a month. The Elf King most of all. I barely recognized him."

Lyanna sighed, a long, weary sound that carried the weight of memory. "A month ago, he was all kindness and open hands—gentle as a summer breeze. Now? He’s a storm wrapped in silk. Overbearing. Greedy as a dragon hoarding gold."

Gorren’s brow furrowed, his tone dropping low. "Lady Lyanna, are you serious about giving him that list? The nobles tied to the Mercenary Group aren’t petty lords—they’re heavyweights with deep pockets and deeper grudges."

She met his gaze, steady despite the flicker of doubt in her chest. "My gut says I’ll regret it more if I don’t."

He gave a dry, bitter chuckle. "You know your father, the Marquis. He doesn’t put stock in gut feelings—he’ll want cold, hard proof."

"That’s why this stays between us," Lyanna said, her voice firm. "You’re his right hand, Gorren, but I need you to keep this quiet. Not a whisper to him."

"And if he finds out later? If he blames us?"

"I’ll shoulder it all," she promised, flashing a quick, determined smile. "We’re doing this behind the scenes in the shadow nyway. No one will trace it back to us."

Gorren dipped his head in reluctant agreement, though unease lingered in his eyes. "Still, I wonder—why does the Elf King want those names? Even if he gets them, what’s his plan? Assassinating nobles isn’t some petty squabble—it’s a spark that could tear down the city truce with the elves. With their strength now, they’d still crumble under the city’s full assault."

Lyanna shrugged, brushing off the weight of his words. "That’s his problem, not ours. We’re merchants, Gorren. Our job is to keep the trade flowing—nothing more."

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. She was making it sound simple, but he knew better. If the Elf King’s temper flared and the truth slipped out, the Ironcrest Guild—and the Marquis himself—could be caught in the crossfire.

All Gorren could do was pray the king wouldn’t let pride cloud his judgment. The elves’ golden days were long gone. This was humanity’s time to shine, and no amount of elven steel could change that.

Soon, the caravan reached a gaping tunnel, its mouth stretching hundreds of meters into the earth. wyvern lumbered forward, guiding them through the cool, echoing darkness. When they emerged, gasps rippled through the group.

Before them sprawled the underground world—a vast, city where towering ruins loomed like the bones of a forgotten age. At the center stood the goblin king’s city, its jagged spires piercing the cavern roof, grand even in decay.

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