I Became My Elf King Character In A Game-Like World
Chapter 93: The Dead Do Not Flee

Chapter 93: The Dead Do Not Flee

"Elves?!"

The woman gasped, quickly turning her gaze in the same direction.

For a moment, she was stunned speechless.

Down at the base of the distant slope, a group of figures had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

They rode sleek, powerful black panthers, moving like flowing shadows across the rough, rocky ground with incredible speed and grace.

Elves, known for their love of forests and life, seemed utterly out of place in this dead, barren mountain range.

"Elves? Here? In the Mountains? How can there be so many?!"

The woman stared, utterly bewildered. "But... aren’t elves supposed to live deep in the shadowed forests? I heard their numbers were few. Where did all these elves come from?"

Just then...

Both the old man and the young woman drew in a sharp breath almost simultaneously.

Their eyes widened as they saw massive figures moving within the elf camp below. Towering figures easily over twenty meters tall strode among the elves. And mixed in were several elves riding majestic, snow-white unicorns.

The old man gasped, his voice filled with surprise, "Giant Stone Golems... unicorns... and even a Unicorn Leader! Just who are these elves? What kind of force is this?"

The woman pointed hesitantly. "Master, look... the elf riding the Unicorn Leader... could that be... the Elf King?"

The old man squinted, peering intently down the mountainside.

Slowly, the wrinkled face hidden deep within his hood broke into a wide, ecstatic grin.

"Yes... Yes! That’s him! The King of the Elves! Among the elves, the royal line descends through the males! Do you see it? The crown on his head?"

"I see it," the woman breathed, "It’s... very beautiful!"

"Beautiful?"

The old man let out a dry chuckle. "You use such a plain word for the legendary Elven Crown, passed down through generations? Girl, that crown is an artifact! Legends say the Goddess of Nature herself gave it to the first Elf King. It holds immense divine power!"

The woman’s eyes went wide. "A divine artifact?!"

The old man laughed again, a greedy, rattling sound. "This young Elf King is either incredibly bold or incredibly foolish! Wearing a divine artifact right out in the open like that... practically showing it off right in front of me. He might as well have gift-wrapped it!"

The woman looked uneasy. "Master, what are you planning?"

"Isn’t it obvious?" the old man cackled, his voice thick with desire. "That artifact will soon belong to the great Necromancer Varn!"

He raised the bone-tipped scepter high.

A terrifying wave of dark, necromantic energy pulsed outwards. All around them, the countless white bones scattered across the slopes began to vibrate strangely, shrouded in swirling black mist. Then, unnervingly, they started to pull themselves together.

Bone clicked against bone, forming eerie shapes.

Orc skeletons, shambling horrors, rose from the ground. Some were simple foot soldiers, others clambered onto the backs of skeletal wolves, forming a gruesome cavalry.

In moments, the mountaintop was teeming with creepy, animated skeletons.

Thousands of them, their empty eye sockets seeming to stare down the slope.

At the same time, the army of elves below noticed the disturbance.

Renjiro, the Elf King, sat easily atop the magnificent Unicorn Leader. He watched the two black-robed figures and the sudden appearance of the skeletal army on the peak above with calm interest.

"Well now," he murmured, a slight smile touching his lips. "I didn’t expect to find necromancers way out here in the Mountains."

....

Across the Continent, the undead and the necromancers who commanded them were enemies of nearly every race.

The Temple, especially, hunted necromancers relentlessly. They were so zealous that many innocent people, merely suspected of dealing with the undead, had been dragged to the stake and burned alive.

Renjiro felt a flicker of sympathy for the general plight of necromancers.

In his view, they were just like any other magic users or warriors – pursuing power, perhaps even seeking immortality. They simply walked a different, darker path. It was like the saying, ’All roads lead to Rome.’ Some chose the bright, wide road, others the narrow, shadowed bridge.

They could have existed separately, but because necromancy dealt with death and decay, twisting life into undeath, it became something most living beings reviled.

Of course...

Sympathy was one thing, but Renjiro wouldn’t hesitate to act against them.

As the Elf King, sworn to protect life and nature, he found the creatures necromancers worked with – corpses and restless spirits – inherently disgusting. These two on the mountain clearly meant trouble.

Elaria, one of his trusted commanders nearby, also looked up at the clattering skeletons with distaste.

"Your Majesty," she said, her voice tight, "Two necromancers up there. Should we withdraw and avoid conflict?"

"No need to leave."

Renjiro shook his head. "These two saw our entire army arrive. They didn’t run. Instead, they summoned that horde of undead. It’s obvious they have hostile intentions."

"What are your orders, Your Majesty?" Elaria asked.

"Simple." Renjiro’s gaze turned cold as he looked back up at the two black figures silhouetted against the grey sky. "Give the command. Sweep away those skeletons! I want to see exactly what these necromancers think they’re capable of."

The order was relayed quickly.

Instantly, a portion of the elven army detached itself and began advancing up the mountain towards the skeleton horde.

Leading the charge were the ten Giant Stone Golems, their massive forms rumbling across the rocky terrain.

They knew their role well: act as living shields for the more fragile elves behind them. Their bodies, harder than granite, would draw the enemy’s attacks.

"ROOOOAR!"

A thunderous bellow echoed across the bare mountainside as the Golems charged.

Facing the approaching wave of skeletons, the ten giants spread out slightly. They then plunged directly into the front ranks of the undead legion, and as they did, each Golem let out another powerful, resonating roar – not just a sound, but a pulse of raw challenge.

It was like a magical shout demanding attention: Fight me!

Instantly, the effect was clear. The skeletons, which had been poised to follow Varn’s mental commands and surge down towards the elves, suddenly ignored him. Their attention snapped entirely to the giant stone figures that had just crashed into their midst.