IRE 35

chapter 35

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“Don’t ever think you’ll die easily.”

Eldmir growled the words lowly, his voice rumbling with restrained fury.

“Kuh… kuhuhuhu… hahahahahaha!”

Irian laughed quietly at first, then louder and louder.
As though the whole situation were amusing—
as though even his own pain delighted him.

It was the laugh of a madman.

The laughter swelled, until at last, he was gasping for air.

“Khaha… hahak! E–Eldmir! Aha, Eldmir! Haha! You’ll never make me despair!”

With what little remained of his wrist, Irian pounded the ground.
Even as his face twisted in agony, he could not stop laughing.

“I lost those emotions long ago. It’s useless. Completely useless.”

Eldmir stepped closer and pressed his foot down slowly onto Irian’s chest—
gradually increasing the pressure.

Irian coughed painfully under the crushing weight, yet still managed to speak.

“Khuk! You can’t make me suffer. You might make my death painful,
but not a death of despair. Khaak! Hgh… All you can do—
is lash out like a fool drowning in his own rage!”

Crack.

Eldmir’s foot pressed harder, and several of Irian’s ribs broke with a sickening sound.
Yet even as blood spilled from his mouth, Irian laughed again.

“Eldmir… heh, heheheh… do you know why I let myself be captured so easily?”

Eldmir did not answer.

Irian smirked at his silence.

“Because I wanted to see that face of yours.
That face twisted in rage, desperate to take revenge but powerless to do so.
That look of hopeless despair. That’s what I wanted to see.”

“How ridiculous,” Eldmir growled,
and crushed Irian’s left shoulder underfoot.

Bones crumbled like powder as he ground them down.

“GAAAHHHHH!!”

“You lost despair, did you? Nonsense!
If you truly lost despair, how could you still cling to a goal worth dying for?
You haven’t lost despair—you’ve never known it!
Compared to what I’ve felt, you’ve never even come close!
You still have hope! You still believe you can change something!!”

Having a goal meant he still had hope.
And having hope meant he still hadn’t reached the depths of despair.

Then the answer was simple—
find out what his hope was aimed toward.

“Don’t worry,” Eldmir said coldly.
“As long as I exist, your wish will never come true.”

“……”

“The forest will not perish.
The World Tree will never be destroyed.
The elves will not fall.”

“Heh… with your strength alone…?”

“It won’t be just my strength.
That’s why you were wary of me, wasn’t it?”

Irian’s lips twisted. He thought of the Kerys sisters—
beings he despised more than anything.

“Don’t make me laugh.”

“Can you imagine it?” Eldmir’s voice grew calm, but his eyes burned.
“The Dark Elves will perish.
The forest will stand untouched.
The elves you hate will live forever in happiness.
I’ll make sure of it.
And you—you’ll watch it all from the depths of hell.”

Eldmir lifted his foot from Irian’s chest and continued,
“I won’t ask why you betrayed your kin.
I don’t care to know, and I won’t bother finding out.
You will be erased from this world—
and every trace of you will follow.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Who do you think you are?
Don’t act like you’re some hero out of legend!
You’re nothing but a boy who hasn’t even had his coming-of-age!”

“That boy,” Eldmir said quietly,
“will destroy every plan you’ve made.
Believe it.
Just as you risked your life for your cause—
I’ll risk mine to stop you.”

Then, without another word, Eldmir set Irian’s arm aflame.

Not in a single burst this time,
but slowly—methodically—letting the fire crawl and consume inch by inch.

“Ghh… hhhaagh! Aaaahhh! KRAAAH!!”

“Hurts, doesn’t it?”

“GAAAAAAHHH!! Aaaahhh! AAAAAAAHHH!”

“Looks like it.”

Eldmir watched dispassionately.
Irian writhed like a fish dragged onto land,
thrashing violently,
until Eldmir ground his foot against his leg to pin him down.

Gradually, Irian’s screams began to fade.

“You can’t die yet,” Eldmir said.

He waved his hand, and the nature of the flames changed—
from destruction to healing.

The divine fire mended what it had burned.

Irian’s lips trembled as he felt his body regenerate.

“The most… painful…”
He remembered Eldmir’s promise.

“Yes,” Eldmir replied, nodding.
His gaze—calm yet blazing with fury—fell coldly upon Irian.

“I told you not to think you’d die easily.”

He raised his hand again. Flames flared.

“You’ll never die peacefully.”

“Agh—AaaAAH!”

Suddenly Irian lunged like a mad beast,
his charred body hurling itself toward Eldmir.

But Eldmir had expected it.
He sidestepped effortlessly and set him aflame once more.

“AAAAAAHHHH!!”

“You’d better endure it.”

Eyes closed, Eldmir listened to the scream.
Irian would pay for his sins.
That was the only thing that might bring him any relief.

Days passed. He no longer knew how many.

He had burned and healed Irian over and over again,
mechanically, testing the limits of his sanity.

He only vaguely remembered that the sun had risen and fallen several times.

“Hhh… hhhaagh…”

“Broken already?”

At some point, even fire failed to make Irian scream.
His throat, too damaged to heal, could only rasp faintly.

Eldmir no longer felt anything watching him suffer.
Even the act of torture lost meaning.
He had continued only because of his own promise.

At last, when Irian’s body was beyond repair,
Eldmir ended it—
crushing his throat beneath his heel.

The charred flesh and brittle bone crumbled pathetically.

He exhaled deeply and looked around.

Far in the distance, the corpses of wyverns lay scattered,
their impact having scorched the surrounding ground.
Among them were the broken remains of Dark Elves—
unrecognizable, mangled beyond form.

The Dark Elves had been strong—
perhaps even stronger than the elves of the forest.
Each one a deadly fighter.

Had they, like him, inherited fragments of El Ruir?
Or were they simply born that way?

It didn’t matter now.
They were all dead—and those who remained soon would be.

That was all he needed to know.

He had walked straight into their trap.
Trusting the enemy, only to be betrayed this stupidly—
his current state was pathetic.

So this was their way.
Deceit, betrayal, death.
Filthy. Disgusting.

Were such corrupted beings even capable of any other way of thinking?

No… that was just an excuse.
Whatever he said now, the result was the same.

He had lost.

The enemy was stronger than expected?
He hadn’t foreseen Irian’s betrayal?
He’d fallen to a cowardly trick?

So what?
Enemies don’t show mercy because you failed to predict them.
They exploit it—that’s what they’re supposed to do.

He had been arrogant.
Overconfident in his own strength.
Maybe he’d let victory against those eight war hammers go to his head.
He’d survived that battle only thanks to that strange, unknown skill—
yet somehow, he’d convinced himself it was his own power.

Did he think it would save him again, like magic?

If so, that wasn’t arrogance—it was pure foolishness.

“…Hah.”

A bitter laugh escaped him.
The dry wind swept over the barren rocks,
stinging his face.

What did he even want anymore?
To reflect?
To comfort himself?

Whatever the reason, it was pathetic.

Forget it.

“Just forget it.”

He collapsed backward, staring up at the sky.
He had spent days torturing Irian.
Perhaps that was why his mind now felt distant, hazy.

He raised his arm to cover his eyes.

Drowsiness washed over him.

—It’s your fault.

A voice echoed suddenly.

He looked toward the sound.
Irian was standing there, smiling.

Eldmir sighed.

The bastard had just died—
and already his ghost was haunting his dreams.

“—It’s your fault.”

Irian smiled and repeated the same words.
Over and over again.

Eldmir frowned.
It was bad enough to see his face in a dream—
but now to hear him spouting nonsense?

“—It’s your fault.”

What was he even blaming him for?

“—It’s your fault.”

No matter what Eldmir asked, the words stayed the same—
like a broken record.

Irritated, Eldmir waved his hand to summon flame.
But none came.

His brow furrowed deeper.

Was this not his dream, but Irian’s?
Why couldn’t he even control it?

He sighed again.

“—It’s your fault.”

Fine.
It’s all my fault.
My mother’s death.
Atir’s death—or rather, his return to nature.

“—It’s your fault.”

Irian’s voice sounded almost like a demand:
Remember what’s your fault.

Frustration boiled over.
Eldmir swung his fist with all his might.

No bow, no magic—just pure instinct.
His punch went straight through Irian’s body.
The image wavered, but didn’t disappear.
Still smiling.

“—It’s your fault.”

Then Irian’s face began to melt—
softly, like wax dripping down a candle—
and reformed into another face entirely.

The face of his mother.

“—It’s your fault, my son.”

“A damned dream.”

Those were the first words that left his mouth upon waking.
Reflexive—like a defense mechanism.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head, as if to shake away the thoughts.

To his side lay Irian’s charred corpse,
burned to black ash.
The body could neither smile nor speak now—
the flesh long since reduced to dust.

He placed an arm over his eyes to block the sight.
Then, slowly, he lifted it again.

The harsh sunlight stung through his fingers.

“…I slept a whole day?”

The sun had been up before he slept,
and it stood in nearly the same position now.
Maybe it had been a full day.
Maybe longer.
Or maybe time itself had lost meaning.

“I should go back…”

But his body refused to move.
No, he simply didn’t want to move.

He just wanted to rest.
Every muscle felt heavy.

When he next opened his eyes,
the sun was gone.
The moon shone brilliantly overhead,
radiant and proud.

No nightmares this time.

He lay there for a long while, staring.
He moved his arms, flexed his toes.
His body obeyed, alive after all.

Hunger gnawed faintly,
but it didn’t feel fatal—
just an empty stomach.

He looked up at the night sky.

It was the first time he’d seen the stars
outside the forest canopy.

The sky here was as beautiful as anywhere—
the Milky Way like spilled silver across black velvet.
Unlike the dark, empty skies of his previous world,
this one glimmered with countless lights.

It looked like paint splashed across a dark canvas—
vivid, fragile, ready to drip and fall.

He reached out instinctively,
as if to touch the colors clinging to the night.
But his hand remained untouched,
and the stars stayed where they were.

“El R’darel,” he whispered.

His god.
The guardian of the forest.
Mother of all elves.

“My god… I pray to you.”

With a hoarse voice, he recited the prayer—
without knowing what he even wished for.
It had become habit, a reflex ingrained from twenty years of life.

Then—

Ding.

A chime sounded in his ears—familiar and alien at once.

[Congratulations. You have completed the Tutorial.]
[Your Status Window is now unlocked. You may check your Level, Stats, and Skills.]
[Job Selection is now available. Please choose your Job.]
[Your choices are determined by all your actions and achievements during the Tutorial.]
[Please review your Job options.]

“……”

A message window.

No—
a system message.

Something that existed only in games—
from his previous life,
when this world was nothing more than pixels on a screen.