The Devil's Cursed Witch

“This is how powerful those people were a century ago. After so many years, do you think their strength would have remained stagnant? If you could not even shake my barrier a little, then it is useless for you to learn of their identities,” Draven said without a change in his expression.

Erlos said nothing. He could only silently grit his teeth in anger and frustration. He held another arrow, and this time, he wrapped more of his elemental power around the arrow. He thought of the other magic skills he learned in the past and chanted under his breath to add them to this shot.

If viewed by an outsider, one would be in awe to see the terrain around the silver-haired elf being changed by the mere force from that arrow.

Swoosh! Swoosh!

‘More arrows… faster… I need to shoot them faster!’

Countless enchanted arrows were shot at that shield, but still, the result was the same. It had reached to the point that Erlos had run out of wooden arrows and was already using pure magic, his arrows created from nothing but his own power. He didn’t give up and kept trying, again and again, creating wind arrows with strength enough to destroy this part of the forest if it weren’t for Draven’s shield.

Draven remained standing in place without a word. He neither stopped him from trying nor commended him for showing talent beyond his peers, simply watching behind that shield with his hands folded behind him.

Though Draven wasn’t intending it, his nonchalance further provoked Erlos. The elf hated how he looked as if he was sure not a single arrow would reach him.

After so many tries that Erlos even forgot counting, the young elf finally ran out of magic power and collapsed on his knees. Drops of blood could be seen dripping from his nose, and even the fingers of his hand holding the bow were bleeding. They could not even properly hold the weapon anymore.

Erlos let out a frustrated curse, angered by the overwhelming sense of helplessness inside him.

The shield in front of Draven disappeared and he walked toward Erlos. He only stopped after reaching the kneeling young elf. “You did not break the shield…”

Erlos angrily wiped away the blood from his nose.

“…but you showed potential. You managed to create a small crack in that shield.”

His words didn’t excite Erlos at all. “What is the use? I failed because I’m weak.”

“You improved a lot compared to last time. It won’t take you long to reach your goal if you keep trying.”

Erlos continued to furiously wipe away his nosebleed. “How long do I need to try? I cannot wait to get my hands on them.”

“Your anger is justified, but one should rule their anger and not let anger rule them. Impatience is the enemy that you need to first take control over. You are still young.”

Erlos muttered another curse under his breath, but Draven ignored that and continued.

“The strength of a warrior is determined by three factors—talent, effort and time. Amongst all the High Elves I knew, you have the greatest talent, and you are not lacking in the effort as well. What you need now is time to gain experience and grow.” Draven looked up in the sky as if he were reminiscing.  “In terms of combat ability, you are far ahead of the High Elves of your age that I had seen in the past. Have patience.”

Erlos continued to kneel on the ground, choosing to remain quiet as he calmed himself. Draven gave him ample time to recover his senses.

After some time, Erlos raised his head to look at Draven, his eyes no longer showing frustration. Draven met his gaze and let out an internal sigh. “Ask!”

Erlos didn’t hesitate to open his mouth. “Everyone says you are the most powerful being on the continent. Then… why did you fail to protect us? Why didn’t you kill them? Say, even if you weren’t able to hold all of them back and some escaped, why didn’t you find them after that?”

The young elf lowered his head as he gripped his bow with both hands.

“Sire…aren’t you our King because you are our protector? Do you not feel anything for the loss of my entire clan? Does it mean nothing to you? Is it your will to simply maintain this peace, to not fight at all? Do you wish to forget the debt of blood we have with our enemies?”

That pair of red eyes seemingly darkened upon hearing those questions. Draven knew not only Erlos, the other subjects of the kingdom must also have the same questions in their minds. However, no one aside from Morpheus and Erlos dared bring this up to ask him.

“Do you know what our enemies call me?” Draven asked out of the blue, causing Erlos to be taken aback.

“Sire?”

“The Devil,” he responded to his own question. “My hands are stained with countless blood, regardless of race, and I became feared for bringing death wherever I go.

“Peace? What use is peace when the people I cared for are gone? I wanted to kill them, all of them. The price for killing my people should be their lives. I was so angry that I won’t even feel guilt if I hunt them and their descendants and everyone related to them.

“Especially those humans?” Draven scoffed. “Pathetic creatures, whose boundless greed is their only merit? There was a time I wished to remove the entire human race in this entire continent.”

“Why? Didn’t you, Sire?” Erlos asked, feeling that it was so unfair those culprits were still roaming free after betraying their own kind and causing countless deaths.

“Because someone told me to not let my anger rule me, that she did not want me to become a monster who only knows slaughter. She reminded me that I, Draven Aramis, am first and foremost a protector of my people. She is the reason I am still here and keeping myself still calm.”

Erlos wondered who that ‘She’ was.