The Mad Dog of the Duke's Estate
Chapter 195. Advent (1)

Chapter 195. Advent (1)

It had been four days since the battle began.

For Aileen's elves, those days had been nothing short of hell. The eastern outer wall of Aileen had fallen to the dark elves, and through the breach, enemy forces were pouring into the city.

The only consolation was that the inner walls still held.

Kyaaah!

"Leang!" one of the elves called out.

"Aaargh!"

Yukal, a member of Aileen's guard, gathered what little mana he had left and unleashed flames upon the demonic monsters. He felt as if he could collapse at any moment. His muscles screamed in agony, and yet the enemy came in endless waves.

There was no hope. Yukal, and every elf still fighting, knew this place would become their grave.

And yet, they fought.

Boom!

The fireball Yukal summoned engulfed a beast that resembled a wolf, reducing it to ashes. But it was too late to save his comrade, who had already been mauled.

Thud.

The elf, torn apart by the beast, collapsed lifelessly onto the ground.

Yukal rushed toward that elf as he cried out, "Leang! Leang!"

Yukal had known him since childhood. They had gone to school together and joined the city guard side by side.

"...Y-Yukal," Leang managed to say as he looked up at Yukal, forcing a weak smile.

"Please... Take care of my parents... my younger sibling..." Leang's final words didn't last long. With his last ounce of strength, he reached out and gripped Yukal's right hand, then said, "...Keep fighting..."

And then, he was gone.

Yukal had lost another friend. He bit his lip and gently placed a hand over Leang's face, closing his lifeless eyes.

Too many friends, too many comrades had already fallen, but the enemy showed no signs of stopping. Countless demonic monsters, dark elves, and undead overflowed with malice as they surged forward, determined to burn Aileen to the ground.

So many had already died. To say Yukal felt no despair would be a lie.

"Surrender.Give up and accept me."

Yukal didn't know when it began, but he kept hearing a voice, unknown yet persistent, that whispered in his mind. The voice urged him to forget his duties, submit to the inevitable, and surrender, again and again.

But every time it spoke, the faces of his fallen comrades flashed before his eyes.

Yukal couldn't surrender. At the very least, he had to take revenge before he died.

And revenge didn't need to be grand, either. If he could take down even one more enemy, one more of the wretched creatures who had done this to Aileen, that was enough for him.

Crack.

Yukal tightened his grip on his spear. And moments later, several dark elves charged straight for him.

Just one. I'll take down at least one of them, Yukal thought.

There was no escaping this. So instead, he gathered every last bit of his mana, determined to drag at least one of them down with him.

"Heh... Hehehe."

"That one's mine."

The moment the dark elves grinned as they closed in...

Slash!

The head of the foremost dark elf dropped to the ground.

And then, a young human's voice echoed through the air. "You know, I really like you dark elves. Hmm... How should I put it...? Ah! Lunchboxes. You're like lunchboxes."

Slash!

With that playful remark, a streak of dark blue light cut through the air. It seemed like a moment frozen in time.

The elegant arc of the blade sliced cleanly through the necks of the dark elves. Of the six who had rushed at Yukal, three fell lifelessly in an instant, and the remaining dark elves screamed in terror.

"A-A demon!"

"The demon has appeared! Run—!"

They never got to finish their sentences.

Crack!

The moment they turned to flee, their heads, too, tumbled to the ground.

Yukal stood frozen, his trembling eyes taking in every moment of the carnage.

There was only one being the dark elves called a demon. It was Caron Leston, the youngest grandson of the great hero, who had come to Aileen's aid.

His name had become the one dark elves feared the most.

"Running away like that? That's not very cool, is it?" Caron remarked, then smiled as he turned to Yukal.

Yukal let out a breathless laugh and nodded weakly, then said, "...Thank you for saving me."

"If you want, you can take a break for a moment. You look pretty banged up," Caron offered.

It was a kind offer, but Yukal shook his head firmly and replied with unwavering determination in his voice, "I can still fight. I have to... so I can protect at least one more person."

Caron let out a faint, bittersweet chuckle and nodded. Then, in a low voice, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Yukal. My name is Yukal," the elf answered.

"I see, Yukal. I won't stop you if you want to fight. Now, give me your hand," Caron said.

Without hesitation, Yukal extended his right hand.

Caron lightly pricked his palm with Guillotine. The blade, glowing dark blue, sank into Yukal's skin, and a sharp pain flared in his palm. But it was only for a moment.

Whoosh!

Yukal felt mana filling up his once-empty mana core. It was mana in distilled form, so refined that not a trace of impurity could be found filling his entire body.

"It's not condensed mana, so you won't have trouble using it," Caron said after sharing a portion of the mana Guillotine had absorbed. He gave Yukal a reassuring pat on the back and murmured, "It's almost over. Just hold on a little longer."

Yukal nodded slowly, then without hesitation, he charged back into battle.

***

Two hours later, the battle had settled into a lull, and the enemies who had been attacking the inner fortress began retreating at a rapid pace.

Leo, his body drenched in blood, asked Caron in a low voice, "Should we pursue them?"

But Caron shook his head firmly and replied, "That would be suicide, Leo."

"We can't just stand by and let those bastards run off," Leo growled.

"You've gotten a lot fiercer," Caron noted.

Leo exhaled sharply.

Four days of relentless battle had pushed him to a higher level. Now, an intense fighting spirit burned within him. There was no doubt that the continuous fighting had changed something inside him.

"You saw it too, didn't you? Those bastards launched elven corpses with catapults," Leo said as his face twisted with pure hatred toward the dark elves.

They had used every possible method, every vile trick. They had catapulted the corpses of elves who had died from poison straight into the city.

"It's nothing new. Those tainted by dark mana are always like that," Caron said.

"But to do that to their own kind... Damn bastards," Leo spat, his words laced with venom.

Caron let out a bitter chuckle and nodded, then slowly looked around.

The surviving elves were hastily gathering the bodies of their fallen comrades. Their expressions were all the same—twisted with hate. And there was no need to ask where that hatred was directed.

I wonder how much longer we can hold out, Caron thought.

The number of guards had been drastically reduced. Even the regular citizens of Aileen had been conscripted into the fight—anyone who could wield a weapon had been thrown into battle.

Over the past four days, 1,500 elves had died, and far more had suffered severe or minor injuries.

Objectively speaking, this is the limit, Caron thought.

The losses in manpower were devastating, but the situation with the city's defenses was just as dire. The magic turrets had stopped functioning, the defensive barriers were failing, and the city's supply of mana stones had nearly run dry.

"Big Brother," Mos, the sapling of the World Tree, said as he approached Caron and carefully took his hand.

Whoosh.

A faint warmth seeped from Mos's touch, but it was far weaker than it had been four days ago.

Caron gently patted Mos's head and nodded, then said, "You should go inside and rest."

"This makes me feel better. Brothers and sisters are fighting with their lives on the line—I need to do something too," Mos said.

Caron sighed quietly as he observed Mos. Perhaps too much mana had been spent, as the latter's form had begun to blur.

Even now, dark mana swirled toward Mos like a predator hunting its prey. The Demon King of Sloth was constantly releasing his energy, trying to corrupt the sapling.

So far, Mos had resisted, but if this continued...

He'll be corrupted, Caron thought.

Mos's mana was tied to the massive forest itself, and the entire forest had been tainted by dark mana. The fact that he had held on this long was already a miracle.

"We should prepare for the worst." Guillotine's voice rang in his mind, low and grave. "They must have realized by now that the elves of the Southern Great Forest have sent a rescue fleet. You think that cunning bastard of Sloth wouldn't have made preparations? The reason they're not attacking with full force yet is—"

"They've already positioned troops near the coastline, right?" Caron interrupted.

"Yes. No doubt about it," Guillotine answered.

The situation had already reached its worst. The Demon King of Sloth wasn't in any hurry—he was taking his time, suffocating the elves slowly, as if savoring their agony.

"If even the sapling falls into the hands of the Demon King of Sloth, it's over. He's already gathered enough souls. The moment we lose Mos, the Gate of Chaos connecting directly to the Demon Realm will open," Guillotine explained.

If that gate fully formed, everything would be finished. Unlike the disaster in the Southern Great Forest where the fragments of Slaughter had been involved, this time, the Demon King of Sloth was directly interfering.

A Demon King wouldn't bother opening an unstable Gate of Chaos. He would drag his entire legion into this world, and when that happened, the eastern continent would be swallowed by death.

"Let's seriously consider the High Elder's proposal," Guillotine said.

The High Elder had promised to secure an escape route for Caron and his group.

At the very least, so they could protect the sapling of the World Tree, a teleportation magic circle had already been prepared beneath Aileen. The precise coordinates couldn't be set due to the Demon King of Sloth's interference, but they could at least escape the Eastern Great Forest.

However, that was only a last resort. They'd planned to fight until they had no other choice.

Justice had nothing to do with it. Caron simply wanted to land a blow on that bastard—the Demon King of Sloth.

It was pure, unrelenting hatred.

Caron exhaled slowly, letting the bitterness settle inside him.

"Still no word from the rescue fleet?" Leo asked. He slumped down beside Caron, casting a sidelong glance.

"The Demon King of Sloth must be blocking communication magic," Caron replied.

"So we're completely cut off," Leo muttered. "Are we dying here?"

"Leo," Caron called out.

"What?" Leo responded.

"People don't die that easily. Have you forgotten our nickname?" Caron said.

"What's our nickname?" Leo asked.

"We're cockroach-like humans," Caron answered.

"...Who the hell calls us that?" Leo asked.

"I do," Caron said smugly. "Caron Leston and Leo Leston, the cockroach cousins. How does it sound?"

Leo scoffed, shaking his head.

As always, they eased the tension with their usual banter.

Just as the two cousins were taking a brief rest...

Whoosh!

Guillotine suddenly let out a deep, resonant hum. It called out urgently, "Owner!"

There was only one reason Guillotine ever reacted this strongly. It was when a massive surge of dark mana had been detected.

Caron's expression hardened as he rose to his feet, and Leo immediately followed.

Far in the distance, the sky was turning a deep shade of violet.

"The Gate of Chaos," Caron muttered.

It was far more vivid than the one they had seen near the Southern Great Forest.

"Why is this suddenly happening now?" Leo asked.

The Demon King of Sloth hadn't obtained Mos yet, which meant he was forcibly summoning an incomplete Gate of Chaos.

Something had to have changed. There was no way the Demon King of Sloth would recklessly open a gate unless a new factor had come into play.

But there was no time to analyze his reasons.

"Leo, drink this," Caron said, pulling an elixir from his pouch of dimensional space and handing it over. "Listen to me carefully."

"Go on," Leo said.

"Take Mos and head to the underground chamber beneath the parliament hall. If I don't contact you within one hour, you run. Got it? I don't have time to explain in detail—" Caron was interrupted by a monstrous roar that erupted from the distant sky.

Kwaaaaaaaaah!

Caron gaze snapped toward the source.

He saw massive wings, felt the constant, bone-chilling cold, and saw glowing violet eyes. It was the first time he had ever seen one in person, but he recognized it instantly.

"A Bone Dragon," Caron said.

Bone Dragons were beings that stood at the pinnacle of all undead. They were a great and noble race, denied even the peace of death.

And one had now appeared before them.