That Unique Monster Who Just Got the 'Consciousness' Passive Skill

Being weak was a thing. Being powerful was another thing.

"And… right now," I playfully jumped around, "I'm being the latter~" I sang in a singsong voice. Quite naturally then, I was having fun. I was being powerful. If I wasn't powerful, then I'd be weak. "'Weak', you say…?" My joyful hopping around gradually died down, my feet coming to a stop. Yes, weak. Weak like all the other sleeping people who surrounded me at present.

Observing around, my smile dropped. I let out a solemn "humph" and thought back on my first day in the World. Today, I had my share of happiness and fun. If I wanted that to keep going, I needed to grow even stronger than this. Holding a fist out, I clenched it so tightly that it trembled.

Let's say the old man wished to bring me down right now, I thought, would I manage against him? To grow stronger than this, hm? Shaking my head, I made myself forget my thoughts and went on to marching.

For now, I would just go to my elves. I hoped they had their share of fun too, my two loyal subjects. They, along with their orc friends, must have been fighting a great deal today too. They were all together as one team up against another greater team of people. And just like the old man said when I insisted to ask whether he was sure to accompany me or not, he had said, 'The more, the merrier, oh ho ho.'

There were so many people playing all together competitively. Surely, now that I think about it, they must have had even more fun than me. Now, I was a bit jealous. But anyway, White-haired and Hideous were waiting for me.

The other side of our poorly improvised battlefield was right up ahead. The carriage was twenty or so meters away, and the elves another twenty meters or so forward. I reached the chariot and patted it, saying it did really well today too. Up ahead, then, were the orcs, elves, and humans. My battle had been wrapped up, theirs still was still going. I comfortably let my back lean on the chariot and observed the other team.

They were nearing an end. Of orcs, there remained three. On the human team, surprisingly, there was only one guy left. It had been like this for at least two minutes, but the man was so vigorous he still fought on. And finally, on the elf group— "Ha ha ha. I can be proud of my boys." —there were still two.

I knew White-haired had this. There was no telling how the cunning, little elf managed to make it this far without dying, dragging his hideous friend with him, but I knew he would make it. When he truly wanted it, he was the man. The man of his royalty. He got work done.

The three orcs standing were circling and cornering the last standing human. The orc leader on one side, painfully swinging his sword at him, barely still up, with one other big orc painfully standing and huffing with a big shield and sword in both hands. And finally another orc—who just went down.

With a slash from the enemy, he sank to the ground and the trying battle went on. It truly was a surprise they had survived against that great of a team. If not for their persistent stubbornness and willpower, they wouldn't have lasted that long. And at any rate, they still suffered a lot from this battle. As we were at war, I could confidently say that no team was really winning here. Still though, by the end of this show, some would survive and be granted another chance to stand up. The losers wouldn't.

Unfortunately for them, their last prey was a tenacious one. Going forth with a Holy Charge skill, he'd just cut down the third orc. He was the leader of the three units. Sir Paladin. Behold the man, making a shield out of thin air, he used yet another skill to protect his back.

A dull clang resounded and the orc leader bounced back. The orc leader swung his sword again, but again, it was blocked off. Going like this, it seemed the three remaining front fighters were enduring just fine.

My two boys also were holding up finely. The cunning elf was the reason they had survived this long for sure. If it were only Hideous, he would have dropped dead a long time ago. But thanks to White-haired's brains, he survived.

The cunning elf schemed a plan before, but even at present, his calculating eyes were hoping to pull off another plan. I could see it clearly. The orc leader yelled at him. He asked about the elf's healing talismans. They needed them. Right this instant. If not, the human leader wouldn't go down easily. Shouting back at the orc leader, the elf spoke of lies. He said he didn't have any, they were all gone.

I laughed at the fact that, even in a tense situation like the present one, these two managed to yell at each other like two brats. They really got along well. The orc leader clicked his tongue at White-haired anyway, and gritting his teeth, he continued to keep the paladin veteran on the edge. What did the elves do in all of this?

Hideous got himself a bow and arrows. He handled the weapon pretty well despite the fact that he complained about human-made bows being useless. Firing three arrows, all three missed. The orc leader cursed them for being so useless.

But ignoring him, the two cunning elves sneakily turned to each other. Both nodded. They both had a plan to work with, but only White-haired knew the truth of that sorry plan they would pull. With what would soon happen, I would see that the kinder elf could have an icy heart too.

Oblivious of White-haired's scheme, Hideous pulled off two daggers and approached the very front. Behind his back, the cunning elf pressed him forward. Albeit a little unwilling to do so, the hideous elf buckled down to it, ground his teeth, and charged forward.

Sir Paladin's white sparkly armor turned to so grim, so full of blood and so wrecked. Like the cornered beast he was, he only doubled over in strength and arduousness. All three guys were fighting against him, and instead of helping them take the thing down, I just looked from a distance, entertained by my men.

White-haired stood a distance from them, holding a sword in one hand and a dozen elvish runic sheets in the other. He was ready to accomplish something big. I wondered what he was up to. All I could understand was that the more spells he applied to his sword, the more it glowed and shone with a bright white light. He was adding an unimaginable amount of strength to his sword. Unlike enhanced weapons, that technique was only a temporary measure.

If a blacksmith enhanced a sword, said sword would glow and shine in the same fashion White-haired's sword did. Only, when a professional did it, though in most cases the effect of the enchantment was far weaker, it could last forever. Needless to go into the details of the art of craftsmanship, thanks to the old man always running his mouth about every matter and subject I would mention, I understood what the cunning elf was up to.

What I couldn't expect from him, however, was what he would come to do with his immensely powerful sword. If I was right anyway, after a swing of that sword, the elf would be totally drained from his mana. So much so that he would pass out on the spot. And still, he planned to pull his plan. Starting a countdown from ten to zero, he stabilized the sword's strength in his hand.

Meanwhile, at the frontline, many Clangs rang out along with grunts and furious shouts. Sir Paladin was more cornered than ever, he went for the weaker of his foe, trying to break the orcs' momentum. He swung his white, shining sword at the elf. Due to his fatigue, Hideous could block the attack.

Then it happened. In between many blows, the orc leader finally got an opening. He brought his thick arm down on the paladin's shoulder, making the veteran fall to a knee. With yet another slash coming at his neck, the paladin promptly passed away, earning his place in Valhalla. A true warrior.

And then 'it' happened. White-haired had finished his countdown. The sword he held instantly shone a flame so bright that I had to squint at it. The floor, by White-haired's feet, lit up like crazy. Holding onto his sword, the elf cried, clenching his jaws and frowning like he never had. His face was as pale as red—he already had burned so much mana, but the flames brightened and burned his face. It was a terrifying picture to look at.

It was just as if the elf unleashed hell contained in his sword. Quickly though, countless little fissures ran across the sword's blade. In less than five seconds the sword would break apart into tiny pieces. There was no time to lose. It was now or never.

As White-haired had unleashed hell from his sword, there was no time for the orcs to celebrate their victory. At any rate, the orcs weren't going to anyway. Because I was reminded then that White-haired had let it slip a while back. "The elf! Just hand over the goddamn princess! Y-You can't fight us!" He had let slip that I was the elven princess. The Receptacle was. After the fight was brought to an end, another feud just showed up.

That battle wouldn't last longer than a second, however. White-haired yelled at Hideous to get in line, which the elf immediately did, and as the three foes—the hideous elf, the orc leader, and the other orc—were gathered in one place, the steps of the running cunning elf rang out. Following behind him, there was the hellish, off-putting pitch-black sword in his hand.

As a Mana Perception user, I could tell how utterly demonic and devastating of an assault the elf pulled. On one hand, you had Hideous, the orc leader, and his last man facing each other, getting ready to fight. On the other hand, you had only one elf, with a sword full of flames that had turned black; he swung the hellish blade at the group of three.

All three of them were engulfed in dark flames. The flames reached heights. Some bits of the forest also was engulfed in the sea of dark flames.

The three enemies of White-haired were taken away from my sight. For a brief moment, all I could see of the sea of flames was a black, intense color. At the same time, the sword shattered. Where the sword had impacted, the air was so hot it expanded and exploded.

I was beyond speechless when the shockwave made me fall down, following a wild gust of wind. When I got back up in a hurry, I saw an elf, lying down unconscious. Next to the elf, gnawing at the earth and forest, the soil had turned to black ashes. There were no two orcs left, no hideous elf left, but only ashes.

What the hell had just happened? When I said I was beyond speechless, I meant it a hundred percent. Should I have expected that? Not that I minded any of what happened, but damn. After a second, I recovered my spirits, loudly and erratically laughed, then commented— "Most entertaining."

When White-haired would wake up after a long, long while, he would coldly assert facts. First and foremost, the orcs had to die. They knew the princess' secret. Needless to go into why, if the orcs had survived—had they captured the princess or just run away—the elven people were most likely doomed, and the truce would be no more.

About the hideous elf, White-haired would assert that he was a guarantee his attack would even work. It was the first time he ever did something this 'stupid' with a sword and runes, so he had no way of knowing the utterly enormous damage the hellish blow would deal.

By having the hideous elf fight the orcs upfront, White-haired had all his enemies gathered in one spot, so he was guaranteed his attack would work. In other words, the hideous elf was a necessary sacrifice.

But to top it off, White-haired would also coldly assert that he planned on executing him anyway. He was a scum, an insult to the Kingdom, a vile man who in normal circumstances would be considered a traitor so much he had insulted and repeatedly physically assaulted the royalty, and, in the same way the orcs knew too much about me being the princess, the hideous elf knew too much about the princess being the Noble Forest Spirit.

It was dangerous. I didn't mind any of it. Wasn't the dead elf only the man who would be remembered as 'the hideous elf' anyway?

Well. White-haired got things done anyway. A round of applause. Clap clap clap.