The chieftain couldn’t make sense of what was happening.

In less than ten minutes, the intruder who had suddenly stormed in had taken down not only the sentries but also all twelve Guardians of the Great Forest.

And just now, he had caused the World Tree to explode in the most bizarre way imaginable.

That alone was enough to plunge everything into chaos.

Yet, for some reason, the man who had set the World Tree ablaze stood calmly before the chieftain.

There’s a well-known tale about a foolish alchemist whose entire body rotted away just from trying to snap a single branch off the World Tree.

Even breaking off one branch triggered such a curse.

But this man had burned down the entire sacred tree… and remained completely unharmed.

And most baffling of all—

“Why do I feel... nothing?”

The fact that he himself felt fine—that was the strangest part.

The World Tree is burning.

The World Tree. Of all things.

The very essence of life for the elves, an irreplaceable existence, the source of life itself—was now a ruined, crumbling shell.

And yet he felt nothing.

He could still sense the energy of the World Tree.

Strangely enough, that energy was coming from that bizarre man with the white hair.

“What in the world did you do?”

There was no way to understand the situation.

What exactly had this man done? And what was all that talk about saving “His girl”?

So the chieftain asked the man.

But—

“You’re the one who should be explaining, not me.”

The man with white hair replied as he stepped forward. In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of him—then, without warning, he grabbed the chieftain’s hand.

A sudden, unpredictable action.

What the hell is he doing? The chieftain was about to snap at him—but before he could, his consciousness started to fade.

A wave of unspeakable pain crashed over him.

His vision warped from the agony.

A grotesque, monstrous sound rang out.

It wasn’t until the man let go of his hand that the chieftain realized—that horrifying scream had been his own.

Drenched in cold sweat, the chieftain looked down at his left arm.

Just moments ago, it had looked completely normal—but now, it was horribly disfigured, as if it would rot away at any second.

In terror, the chieftain stumbled backward from the man. But his nerves and body, wrecked by pain, wouldn’t cooperate.

He tumbled to the ground in a pitiful heap.

The white-haired man, splattered in blood, looked down at the fallen elf and finally spoke.

“You told the prince about where our kid was, didn’t you?”

“I… I…”

Cold sweat trickled down his back.

The chieftain felt like he was on the verge of going mad.

That killing intent… that hatred when the prince was mentioned.

And the sheer power it must have taken to pull off something this insane.

There was only one possible conclusion.

The man standing before him was Black Fangs.

The leader of Black Fangs had come for them.

The chieftain’s mind raced.

There was no point resisting someone who had the power to bring down the Holy Church. If he wanted to survive, he had to think fast.

After some desperate thought, he cautiously spoke up.

“W-We were threatened too. They said they’d kill us if we didn’t cooperate…”

Black Fangs was known to be compassionate toward the weak—he even supported the slums.

In truth, it had been the elves who had approached the prince first, actively offering cooperation. But maybe… just maybe, if he pretended to be a victim, the man would let it slide.

But—

“Think carefully.”

Before he could even finish spinning his story, the leader of Black Fangs cut him off.

“I’ve already used up the one-time Predation Buff. I don’t have any reason to stick to non-lethal tactics anymore.”

Predation buff? One-time use?

The chieftain didn’t understand any of it.

But what he did understand—loud and clear—was that the man no longer cared about sparing lives, and the bloodthirst aimed at him was real.

The chieftain immediately grasped the gravity of the situation.

…He had been complacent.

He’d heard that the man had even healed the ones he had slaughtered, and without realizing it, he’d assumed he wouldn’t be killed either.

But the man standing before him was an overwhelming force.

A being who could take his life at any moment—simply by willing it.

And there was only one thing to do before someone like that.

“I-I’m sorry!”

And what does any of that have to do with me?

If it were another elf, maybe. But finding the exact location of a half-elf—someone of mixed blood—is never easy.

It takes an enormous amount of time, an intricate ritual, and most of all… it only works if everyone cooperates.

Every elf standing here must’ve played a part in locating Siel.

‘So why should I feel any obligation to judge them fairly?’

‘I hate those bastards.’

Just like how they cooperated with the chieftain’s plan because they didn’t care whether Siel lived or died—

He too, couldn’t care less what happens to these self-righteous bastards. He would gladly throw them into the jaws of death.

‘I’m no saint.’

Compared to a group of elves who sold us out without a second thought—who he don’t know and don’t care to know—that quiet, dazed kid he do know is far more precious to him.

“You seem to be misunderstanding something. This isn’t an offer. It’s a threat.”

Without hesitation, he withdrew the energy of the World Tree.

That alone caused the elves to scream and collapse to the ground.

“You don’t have the freedom to choose.”

Obedience.

That’s the only path available to them—and he have no intention of offering any alternatives.

Standing before the dying elves, he made his declaration.

“Hm…?”

Rob, who had been deeply focused on repairing the Holy Sword, suddenly wore a puzzled expression.

Just now—for the briefest moment—he thought he had witnessed something completely abnormal.

But then—

“Hey! You there! How many times do I have to tell you?! You can’t melt artifacts like that!”

The moment he saw his idiot subordinate ruin a perfectly good artifact with a dumb mistake, Rob erased all thoughts from his head and rushed over to the forge.

Honestly, it was the expected outcome.

To think the Holy Sword might have turned black for a second?

There was no way something so absurd could actually happen.

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