I Became My Elf King Character In A Game-Like World
Chapter 80: No Mercy for the Greedy

Chapter 80: No Mercy for the Greedy

In the centre of the night-shrouded forest, a terrifying cold gripped every mercenary of the Mercenary Group. It wasn’t just the night air; it was a dread that seeped into their bones, making them shiver uncontrollably.

"Fuck," a man stammered, his voice tight with fear, "can anyone explain why Giant Golems, creatures of legend, are standing right here?"

"Ten... ten of them!" another choked out, eyes wide like saucers. "And they’re all peak Circle 9!"

"And those... those flying things... what are they? More elves?"

"Elves don’t have wings!" someone else insisted frantically.

"We walked right into it... we’re trapped!"

Panic erupted. The faces of hardened knights and veteran mages alike turned ghostly white. Seeing a dozen stone titans, each towering over twenty meters, had completely broken their nerve.

Even the knowledge that their leader was a famed Dragon Slayer offered no shred of comfort against such impossible odds.

And looming over it all was the Elf King himself, seated upon a majestic, Tenth Circle Unicorn, his expression unreadable, his presence overwhelming.

They were caught. Defeated before the battle even began.

Even Garrick, the Dragon Slayer, felt the steady grip on his greatsword falter, a tremor running through his hand.

Like his men, shock and a terrifying, unfamiliar fear clenched his heart. He’d planned for risks, for dangers, but this... this assembly of power was inconceivable.

Ten Giant Golems! Their combined might could likely shatter armies, perhaps even challenge the legendary Giant Leader of the ogres.

’How?’

The question screamed in Garrick’s mind. ’Golems serve the Earth Mother! Why are they here, allied with elves? And so many?’

His gaze snapped back to Renjiro, poised serenely on the glowing unicorn. By any measure, the Elf King’s beauty was almost divine, flawless features, an aura of effortless nobility.

Garrick didn’t doubt for a second that royalty, even the Empire’s Princess, would likely swoon before such perfection.

"Your Majesty... Elf King," Garrick started, the plea raw in his throat, "perhaps we can..."

"RRROOOOAAAAARRRR!!!"

His words were obliterated. The circle of Giant Golems threw back their heads in unison, unleashing a sound that wasn’t just a roar, but a physical force.

It tore through the clearing like rolling thunder, shaking the very ground, rattling teeth, and stunning the mercenaries into momentary paralysis.

A wave of sickening dizziness washed over them. Garrick felt it too, a jarring mental blow. Before he could even shake it off, his body moved.

His arm lifted his sword, his legs lunged forward, towards the nearest Golem, entirely against his will.

"What’s happening?!"

"My body— I can’t control it!"

Sheer, unadulterated terror flooded Garrick. As a Tenth Circle Knight, master of his own form, this was impossible, a violation of reality itself. Yet, he could only watch, trapped inside his own skin, as his feet carried him inexorably towards the stone behemoth.

A wild glance showed him the same horror reflected in his men’s eyes. Knights charged blindly forward, swords raised. Even the frail mages, their faces masks of confusion and fear, stumbled towards the Golems, staffs held high like feeble weapons.

It felt like the darkest puppetry, like strings pulling their limbs towards destruction!

"Crush these greedy human invaders!" a Golem’s voice boomed like an avalanche.

A fist like a battering ram descended. The old mage who had voiced his fears vanished in a sickening red spray. Knights were backhanded, sent flying like broken dolls. Warhorses screamed as colossal feet stomped down, leaving behind only mangled ruin.

This was the brutal reality of the Giant Golems’ power. Only the mightiest creatures on the continent, Golden Behemoths, Ancient Treants, could hope to match them. Dragons often fell before their strength.

Agonized screams ripped through the night, punctuated by the wet crunch of bone and the shriek of rending metal.

The Mercenary Group dissolved into chaos.

No sane soldier would face Golems head-on, yet they charged relentlessly, possessed by a suicidal compulsion.

Even as they watched friends obliterated, they surged forward, unable to stop, driven by the Golems’ inescapable command.

’What is doing this to us?!’ The silent scream echoed in their minds. They felt like marionettes dancing on the edge of death, suspecting foul necromancy, the kind practiced by those who toyed with souls.

"Retribution of Light!" Garrick bellowed, forcing his power through the unnatural compulsion. His greatsword ignited with holy fire, extending into a massive cross of pure energy that slammed down onto the Golem’s back.

SCHRAANG! Brilliant sparks flew, but Garrick’s heart sank like a stone. His ultimate attack, an ability that had crippled a young dragon, merely etched glowing scratches onto the Golem’s stony hide. The creature didn’t even flinch.

’Are Golems... stronger than dragons?’

As this horrifying thought took root, a soft, ethereal green light began to fill the air. Countless tiny motes, like emerald dust or ghostly fireflies, drifted down from the canopy, painting the gruesome scene with an eerie, deceptive beauty.

But for the mercenaries caught within that shimmering mist, the beauty was agony. A profound, unnatural weakness seeped into their limbs.

Nausea churned in their stomachs as they felt something dissolving within them. They desperately tried to muster magic, strength, anything, but it was useless. Their bodies were failing, melting from the inside out.

’Poison! A magical poison!’

"Captain! Plea— hleurghk!" A mercenary’s cry for help ended in a choked gurgle. He collapsed, dark blood foaming at his lips, convulsing once before falling still. But death offered no release.

The green luminescence clung to him, and horrifically, his corpse began to dissolve, flesh and bone melting away into a viscous, bubbling puddle of foul green slime.

All around the clearing, men screamed, choked, and fell, their bodies consumed by the silent, deadly light.

"Hsss..." A cool shiver traced Renjiro’s own spine despite the carnage below. He looked up towards the Spirits of the Groves, hovering serenely amidst the chaos, their beauty a stark contrast to the horror they unleashed.

These delicate, fairy-like beings were the harbingers of this gruesome end, their magic a beautiful, inescapable death.

Beside him, Sylphie, the Unicorn, let out a low, troubled sound and shifted uneasily, his divine nature clearly repulsed by the swift, horrifying efficiency of the Spirits’ deadly grace.

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