Before them lay a vast underground city, its crumbling towers rising like the skeleton of a long-lost world.

Broken buildings lined the cavern walls, their shattered peaks stretching toward the ceiling as if reaching for something long gone. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

At the center stood the Goblin King’s city, its jagged spires still proud despite their ruin, a shadow of the kingdom that once was.

Gorren took a sharp breath, his voice low. "I knew it... This was Goblin Territory. The elves came through and destroyed everything, leaving only silence behind."

His eyes moved to the edges of the city, where a great sea of white shifted and swayed—thousands upon thousands of sheep, their cries echoing in the dark. He stared, his chest tightening as the truth sank in.

"And those..." His voice was barely a whisper. "Those are the goblins. The Elf King’s transformation magic changed them into animals."

Lyanna’s stomach churned, her face paling. "Goblins?" She pressed a hand to her chest, silently vowing to the Goddess of Magic that mutton was off her table forever.

Wool coats, too—she’d stick to cotton from now on. "Gorren, are you sure those sheep are safe?"

He cast a glance at Wyvern, who was already buried nose-deep in the flock, munching away with delight. "I asked the Wyvern. It swears they taste just fine—better than real sheep, though I doubt it’s ever actually had one. The Elf King promised, too—if anything goes wrong, the elves will cover our losses."

Lyanna narrowed her eyes at the horizon. Wyvern tail wagged as it gulped down another fat sheep, completely content. If they still tasted like goblins, surely Wyvern wouldn’t be this happy after eating that. With a sigh, she rubbed her temples, accepting the inevitable.

"Alright, then. We spent 400,000 gold on them—we’re not leaving empty-handed. Load them up."

At her command, the guild’s knights and mages spread out, working to gather the bleating herd. Moving over 30,000 sheep all the way back to the city would be a daunting task, but Lyanna set her jaw. They would find a way.

....

Miles away, the air around Lake shimmered with a quiet, thrumming power. The Unicorn Leader stood enshrined in a cocoon of blinding light, its radiant form pulsing like a living star on the cusp of something vast.

The water trembled, waves lapping at the shore in reverent ripples, while the gathered elves watched in hushed awe. Their sacred guardian teetered on the edge of legend, and the forest itself seemed to hold its breath.

By the lake’s shimmering edge, a sphere of white light beat like a heart, encasing the Unicorn Leader in its sacred glow.

Holy magic spilled outward, washing over the water and threading the air with a hum that felt alive. The other unicorns pressed close, their silver coats catching the gleam as they drank in the overflowing energy.

Some quivered, manes flaring like silver fire, hooves stamping the earth in silent triumph as the surge sparked their own breakthroughs. Renjiro’s gaze, however, remained fixed on his mount.

The Unicorn Leader—his unwavering companion, stood at the pinnacle of ninth-circle, a breath away from something greater.

Tenth circle, he thought, the words heavy in his mind. Once it crossed that threshold, it would become a force of shimmering might no mortal beast could rival.

His lips moved, a murmur slipping free. "I’m still stuck at the late eighth-circle. How long before I catch up to you?"

A gentle hand brushed his arm, light as a whisper of wind. Elaria’s voice followed, soft yet steady, like a chime carried on a breeze. "Patience, Your Majesty. Divine blood runs through you—a royal elf’s legacy. Tenth circle isn’t far; I can feel it stirring in you."

Renjiro’s lips curved into a faint, wry smile, a flicker of amusement in his amber eyes. "That blood’s been asleep for centuries. No Elf King’s managed to wake it up—divine or not, it’s stubborn as stone."

Her eyes sparked with sudden light, a gleam of inspiration breaking through her calm. "But you’re blessed by the Goddess herself! Why not call on her? Ask her to light the path?"

He swallowed a chuckle, the sound caught in his throat. Blessed by the Goddess—a poetic title, nothing more, dangling like a bauble over his crown.

The elves had clawed their way up through sweat and steel, not divine favors. Renjiro half-wondered if the Goddess was dozing somewhere in the ether—or worse, had turned her back when the elves stumbled through their bleakest years. Where were her miracles then?

"Let’s not trouble the goddess with trifling things like this," he said, brushing the thought away with a flick of his hand.

Elaria blinked, her brow furrowing faintly. To her, awakening the god’s blood was no small matter—it could lift him to new heights, a ruler to shake the Continent’s foundations.

But his tone was a wall, firm and unyielding, so she let it slip away, her gaze drifting to the unicorns dotting the shore.

"Your Majesty," she said, her voice lifting like a melody, "you’re so close to claiming the Forest entire. Our people have the strength to stand tall now. What if we summoned our kin home? Told them this is where they belong?"

Tens of thousands of years had passed since the Elf Empire shattered beneath the boots of the four races—humans, dwarves, beasts, and Wyverns—forcing their ancestors to flee Goddess Lake.

They’d scattered like leaves torn by a storm, threads of their people fraying across the Continent. The elves of the Forest were but one strand, yet they held the royal bloodline—a thread as vital as it was cursed.

Royal elves bore children sparingly, one per generation if they were lucky, a birth rate even the Wyverns of the Western Sea might pity. Renjiro’s voice grew quiet, shadowed with doubt.

"It’s been too long, Elaria. Would they even hear a royal call after all this time? Some might not know an Elf King still breathes."

Her gaze sharpened, fierce and unyielding, a fire kindling in her emerald eyes. "No elf could forget the royal line that forged our empire! Sound the call, and they’ll come—over mountains, through rivers, across anything—to stand at your side."

He squeezed her hand, her warmth anchoring him, and a faint smile softened his features. "Let’s wait a little longer. Once I’ve crushed the Leader of the ogre tribe and claimed the Forest, I’ll consider an elf kingdom. Then I’ll shout it loud enough for every race to hear: the elves aren’t a faded tale—we’re here, and we’re rising."

"Your Majesty..." Elaria’s voice trembled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She could see it unfolding—the Continent trembling as the Elf Kingdom rose anew, Wyverns rousing from their slumber in the West side Sea, every scattered elf trudging home to kneel before their king.

But the words had scarcely left his lips when Renjiro stiffened. A clear, chime-like voice rang through his mind, sharp and bright as a bell.

[Ding! Dear User...]

[The system believes you’ll become a great Elf King!]

[Side Quest Issued!]

[Quest: Establish an Elf Territory in the Forest and declare to all races that the elves have risen again.]

[Time Limit: One Month]

[Reward: One Equipment Draw Chance]

[Penalty for Failure: Erase the God’s Blood from the User’s Body]