Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls-Chapter 217: Conversation with the Queen

Kael remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on Aelirenne, who now, seated on her shattered throne, still tried to maintain the semblance of sovereignty she once symbolized. But something in her shoulders betrayed the wear and tear—not just physical, but ancestral. The weight of centuries of tradition, pride, and sacrifice.

He sighed.

"Let’s make one thing clear right now..." His voice was cold as ancient ice, without the veneer of cordiality of earlier moments. "I don’t care about your people, Aelirenne. Not one bit."

She frowned, surprised by his abrupt frankness.

"This stupid war between elven clans for reasons I don’t know beyond pure racial disgust, a fucking racist fight... it all gets on my nerves. This retarded fight shouldn’t even exist."

The silence that fell was dense, almost palpable.

The guards, even from a distance, shifted discreetly. Exelia just watched with a heavy frown. Liora looked away at the charred tapestries, as if anticipating something even more dangerous than the collapse of the throne.

Kael took a step closer, his countenance darker, as if the light that surrounded him had decided to retreat.

"If it were up to me, I would let it all burn and start over with the ashes. But... fortunately or unfortunately, you are someone Sylphie will probably need in the future."

Upon hearing that name, Aelirenne paled again, more than before, as if she had been stabbed in the chest with an invisible blade.

"You... said Sylphie?" Her voice came out weak, as if she wanted to confirm, but feared the answer. "Yes," Kael replied calmly. "Sylphie is in the Kingdom of Witches. Well, we sent each other letters, didn’t you receive them?"

The Queen’s golden eyes widened. For the first time, there was no dignity or calculation in them—only instinctive terror. An almost primitive fear.

"Letters?? No! I thought she had died!"

Kael raised an eyebrow, as if watching unnecessary theater. He showed no compassion—only a certain annoyance.

"Well... that explains a few things."

Aelirenne brought her hand to her mouth, her mind clearly spinning in contained panic. Kael’s words were in direct conflict with everything she believed she knew—and everything she feared.

"Are you saying... that my daughter... is alive... in the Witch’s Realm?"

"Yes. And under the care of Eleonor Scarlet."

It was as if the Queen’s soul left her body for a brief second. Aelirenne leaned forward in her throne, her fingers digging into the armrests so hard that her knuckles turned white.

"Eleonor..." she whispered. "The Scarlet Witch... is with her?"

Kael crossed his arms. "And she’s doing a better job than anyone here would have done, judging by the state of this place."

The comment hit Aelirenne like a whip. She looked up indignantly, but hesitated. Because it was true. Everything around her—her people, her court, her security—had crumbled in a matter of hours. And Sylphie, her daughter, the last trace of royal blood she could still love, was in a place she would never have allowed her to go...

And yet she was alive.

"What does she want with my daughter?" She then fell silent...

Kael looked at her...

"Nothing? What would she want? I’m the one who wants something with her." Kael spoke calmly, "Besides, Yggdrazil has already asked me to take care of her." Kael shrugged, "I’ll just do my job and protect my dear future wife. No big deal."

Aelirenne froze.

Kael’s words hung in the air like a contained storm, about to explode. The echoes of "my dear future wife" seemed to reverberate off the stones of the ruined throne.

The tension in the hall reached a new level.

Exelia’s eyes widened, but she restrained herself. Liora seemed to hold her breath. Even the guards, previously mere spectators, looked at each other nervously.

Aelirenne, however, remained motionless.

"Future... what?" Her voice came out as a whisper, weak—but laden with silent terror.

Kael stared at her with the same coldness as before. There was no provocation in his expression. Only brutal honesty.

"That’s right, you heard correctly. She accepted. Of her own free will. With full awareness. I didn’t have to force anything—unlike some arranged marriages that you call tradition."

It took the Queen a few seconds to process. When she finally rose from her throne—still trembling—she was no longer just a queen facing her downfall. She was a terrified grandmother facing something she didn’t understand.

"She... accepted? Are you saying that my daughter—"

"Let’s skip the small talk, mother-in-law. Tell me right now what and who did all this to create this spectacle. I’m going to kill everyone, and we’ll talk later, okay?" Kael said, smiling like a demon.

The silence that followed was heavy, almost like the moment before a storm.

Aelirenne blinked, as if trying to decipher whether that aggression was part of a game, a real threat, or just the bitter exhaustion of someone who had seen too much.

She finally spoke, her voice firm despite the tremor she could barely hide:

"You want quick answers and blood, Kael. As always. But for that, you need to understand what drove all this."

She stood up with difficulty, leaning on the arm of the broken throne. Her eyes—once clouded by fear—now shone with the cold flame of experience.

"It wasn’t just one group, nor was it an isolated act. This was orchestrated by those who fear the change I have begun to implement in this kingdom—not only for our people, but for the balance of the entire world."

Kael crossed his arms, smiling sidelong.

"So you mean there’s a dark council behind this? That wants your head for being someone who is ’escaping traditions’?

Aelirenne nodded, with a bitterness that only centuries could shape.

"Do you think these thrones were erected with noble ideals, Kael? They were cemented with blood, fear, and silence. And now that I’ve tried to change the order—even if it’s too late—those who benefit from the old world have decided to act."

She descended one step from the throne platform, her posture gaining a dignified, albeit faltering, air.

"They are the patriarchs of the ancient clans, the matriarchs of the purist bloodlines. All with a single goal: to prevent us, the dark elves, from leaving a legacy different from the one they forged by force centuries ago."

Kael tilted his head slightly, his eyes half-closed, thoughtful.

"So that’s it. Sylphie was never really accepted here... because she’s half High Elf and half Dark Elf."

Aelirenne nodded slowly. Her voice was lower, but heavy with meaning.

"Exactly. From the moment she was born, we knew that her existence would be a living affront to the rotten roots of this system. Her father and I... we knew there would be resistance. But we never imagined they would go this far. This went beyond any logic. It went beyond even our worst fears."

Kael let out a long sigh, running his hand through his hair as if to wipe the exhaustion from his face.

"Okay. Tell me where they are." His voice was dry, almost bored. "Let’s get this over with now. I have such a long to-do list that I’d need three lifetimes to finish it. So, we eliminate the culprits, erase the stain on our tradition, and everyone goes on with their lives. Practical, efficient, and, honestly, quite therapeutic."

He turned, facing Exelia and Liora with a crooked, almost mischievous smile.

"You agree, don’t you? Exterminating a bunch of elders who think they’re gods seems much more fun than the diplomatic alternatives."

Exelia crossed her arms, with the expression of someone who had already expected this.

"As long as I can choose which one of them will scream the loudest, I’m in."

Liora, on the other hand, hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. "The cause is just... and there is no longer any balance to be preserved. They declared war when they attacked the royal line itself. I’m with you."

Kael nodded with satisfaction.

Aelirenne, however shaken she was, seemed to regain some of her former composure when she saw the determined group before her. The spark of hope that had disappeared returned, albeit timidly.

"They hide behind veils of rituals, names, and masks... But there is a place where they gather. The Temple of Nihrael, in the black forest of Syl’doril. Once a sanctuary, today it is a nest of poison and conspiracy."

Kael was already walking away, his eyes shining with the intensity that preceded action. He turned slightly and looked over his shoulder.

"Perfect. A cursed temple and old fanatics. It fits my Tuesday perfectly." frёeweɓηovel_coɱ

He snapped his fingers.

"Let’s go. Before they change their address or their bodies."

...

[Witch Kingdom – Eleonor Scarlet’s Red Tower]

Lilac flames danced lazily in the central brazier, while the scent of sweet herbs and rare incense filled the air. Mechanical griffins dozed on the window sills, and flying books buzzed lazily around the main reading room.

Elion absentmindedly adjusted the dark blue cloak over her shoulders. Her eyes—as deep as a moonlit night—were fixed on the misty landscape beyond the magic window.

"I’m going to the Elf Kingdom," she announced, with the same serenity as someone saying they’re going to the market. "I want to see how my son is doing... After all this, I can no longer sit around waiting for news from Kael’s letters."

Across the room, Eleonor Scarlet looked up from the cauldron where a potion sparkled in shades of pink and raised an eyebrow with visible irony.

"If you go, go invisible," she said casually, as if suggesting taking an umbrella on a cloudy day. "And don’t even think about interfering. No dramatic speeches, whispered prophecies, or appearances amid lightning bolts, understand?"

Elion frowned, feigning offense. "I’m always discreet."

Eleonor snorted, not even trying to hide her laughter. "Discreet? Do you really want to argue about that?"

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