【 ITS THOSE EVILELVES! 】

A golden dragon?

But judging from its size…it seemed to be a juvenile?

Andris paused for a moment, slightly taken aback.

“Shalu, could it be that a golden dragon has built a nest here somewhere in the desert?”

He turned toward the orc priest.

“How is that possible? There aren’t any large creatures here that could sustain a dragon’s appetite.”

The orc priest shook his head.

Andris was about to say something else when suddenly, a thought struck him, and he stopped. His gaze followed the golden dragon as it circled above them for a while before disappearing towards the northeast.

Andris’ eyes flickered with contemplation before he abruptly stood up.

“Alright, it’s getting late. Since we have already completed the transaction, I think it’s about time my caravan returned as soon as possible.”

However, just as he was about to leave, the orc priest blocked Andris path.

“Hey now, what’s the rush? You’ve had a long journey, right? why not rest here for a bit longer?”

Shalu grinned.

But Andris noticed something else—the other party was subtly signaling his subordinates with almost imperceptible gestures. Moments later, a few orcs quietly slipped away from their settlement.

Seeing this, Andris’ expression shifted slightly, his mind racing to piece together their intentions. Then, as if amused by an unspoken joke, he suddenly chuckled, his gaze sharpening as he turned back to the orc priest.

“Ah, Shalu, my friend, as much as I’d love to stay and rest here with your tribe, I have other matters to take care of. We can’t afford any delays.”

But his words were immediately seen through.

“Heh, let’s cut to the chase. Mr. Andris, you’re also after that golden dragon too, aren’t you?”

Shalu’s words made Andris’ expression darken slightly.

Well, he wasn’t wrong in that he was indeed planning to go after that golden dragon.

If elves were the most coveted and expensive kind of slaves in the black market, then dragons were the most sought-after creatures in the wildlife trafficking business.

Even though dragons have never considered themselves mere beasts and have proudly seen themselves as superior to humans and other sentient species, whenever a dragon appeared on the black market, it always caused a massive sensation, as each one could be auctioned off for an astronomical price.

Of course that being said, only juvenile dragons could be captured and sold.

Moreover, in most cases, auctioning a juvenile dragon has always been a perilous and highly dangerous endeavor, as it frequently provokes retaliation from a much older, more powerful dragon. As such, the aftermath of such trades can be catastrophic, often leading to the annihilation of entire cities or in some extreme cases, even the collapse of a small human nation.

Yet, despite the inherent risks, humans remained obsessed with poaching dragons whenever they encountered one.

After all, dragons had lifespans far surpassing elves, with some species having even greater potential for growth.

And if one chose to take the underground route, the reward for selling a single dragon could bring wealth beyond one’s wildest imagination. It was enough to tempt even the most cautious individuals to risk everything, knowing that such a fortune could change the course of their lives forever. ṟÄ𐌽O͍𝐁ЕṦ

Therefore, the moment Andris saw the juvenile golden dragon earlier, he had already made up his mind. Alas, from the looks of it, he wasn’t the only one with the same idea.

Noticing the somewhat annoyed yet knowing look on Shalu’s face, Andris fell silent for a moment before smirking.

“Shalu, surely you’re aware that young metallic dragons rarely travel alone, right? They usually have an older adult dragon accompanying them.”

“Heh, Mr. Andris, don’t underestimate me. I may be a priest now but I was an adventurer in my younger days. If an adult golden dragon were really nearby, then it would have already chased us off the moment that young dragon flew this close to our location.”

Shalu let out a sinister chuckle.

Andris fell into silence.

This Orc Priest was right.

If an adult dragon had truly been accompanying that young golden dragon, there would have been no chance of spotting it flying alone in such a manner. The presence of a fully grown dragon would have ensured that it stayed close, always vigilant, and unwilling to let its young one wander off by itself.

This made it all the more likely that the young golden dragon was alone, which is an incredibly rare and fortuitous occurrence.

Thus for any ambitious adventurer, this was a rare opportunity too tempting to ignore!

“80-20 split. I take 80.”

Andris suddenly stated.

Shalu raised an eyebrow.

“Oh? Mr. Andris, isn’t your appetite a little too big? This is the Desert of Death, after all. Besides, with such an open landscape, you’ll be spotted instantly if your men charge in recklessly.”

As he spoke, Shalu’s orc subordinates displayed their simple, ragged clothes, dyed in colors that blended almost seamlessly with the barren wasteland.

Andris narrowed his eyes at him and said,

“70-30. That’s the best offer I can make. Being a former adventurer, you should already understand this, Shalu, but only we at the Sauron Group have the resources to sell a dragon and withstand any retaliation from its adult guardian.”

Shalu examined Andris’ serious expression before letting out a low chuckle.

“Okay deal.”

Seeing that the other party finally agreed, Andris breathed a little easier. After a moment of thought, he added, “Alright, let’s move swiftly. We can’t afford to lose sight of it. Also, since you’re more familiar with the terrain, send more of your men. And make sure we get those clothes as well.”

“No problem.”

With that, the two sides quickly organized their respective teams, setting their plans into motion to capture the golden dragon.

The Sauron Group was the first to mobilize, sent nearly half of its mercenaries—thirty elite warriors, all of whom were seasoned veterans within the upper Iron-rank, known for their skill, experience, and combat prowess.

The orcs, not one to fall behind, contributed a substantial force of their own—over eighty warriors, with more than half of them being high-ranking Iron-rank fighters.

Together, these two powerful teams seemed to be enough to capture the young golden dragon. A creature whose strength was no more than Silver rank at most, and whose intellect was comparable to that of an eleven- or twelve-year-old child, surely didn’t stand a chance against such an overwhelming show of force.

The expedition, led by Silver-ranked warrior Andris, set off in full force, charging toward the direction where the golden dragon had disappeared into.

༺⟐༻

It turned out that the young dragon’s speed wasn’t particularly fast, and it seemed to be still playing around and oblivious of their presence.

With a combined force of over a hundred humans and orcs, Andris’ hastily assembled hunting party quickly spotted their prey.

Dressed in light brown linen clothes provided by the orcs, each members of the hunting party blended seamlessly into the barren desert landscape. The dull, earth-toned fabric matched the surrounding terrain, making it nearly impossible for any observer to distinguish them from the dust and rocks.

Thanks to the clever camouflage, the juvenile golden dragon remained blissfully unaware of their presence.

However, as time passed, it began to show signs of weariness. Its movements slowed, and its once-energetic flight patterns became more languid. After a few more minutes of soaring above the barren landscape, the young dragon descended gently into a shallow depression in the desert floor.

Andris’ eyes lit up.

Without hesitation, he immediately signaled his men to move in.

At this moment, Andris could already see the path to his triumph unfolding clearly in his mind.

He could almost taste the success!

First, he would capture the golden dragon, then deliver the majestic creature, along with the three elven slaves, directly to the Sauron Group’s headquarters, where he would be lauded with the highest commendations from his superiors. His status within the organization would surely soar after this. He would rise through the ranks, securing a senior position and the power that came with it.

Power, prestige, and a fortune beyond imagination…He could almost taste it!

Even as a seasoned Silver-ranked expert, Andris couldn’t stop his breathing from growing heavy with excitement.

However, the very moment he led his hundred-strong hunting party into the depression, he suddenly realized—

It was empty.

Andris froze.

“….Where’s the golden dragon?”

He was certain he hadn’t been mistaken!

That young dragon had definitely flown in this direction!

The afternoon sun scorched the land, its heat intensifying the restlessness that churned within Andris. Sweat beaded on his brow as the sun’s relentless rays seemed to press down, making every second feel heavier. A light breeze swept across the desert, stirring the dry, hot air and carrying fine grains of sand that stung his skin as they passed.

Frowning, Andris covered his nose with a cloth, trying to block out the dust that swirled around them. His gaze shifted uneasily, scanning the towering sand ridges that encircled them on all sides.

“Check the high ground.”

Andris had always disliked being in low-lying areas as it made him feel vulnerable, unable to grasp the full picture.

But just as the wind blew through the hunting party, one of the orc scouts suddenly tensed, his expression shifting.

“Elves! Their scent is everywhere!”

…Elves?

Andris blinked in surprise.

For a moment, he thought he had misheard.

Elves?

Here in the Desert of Death?

That was impossible!

But the next instant—his expression swiftly froze.

A loud rustling filled the air, followed by the soft crunch of shifting sand. From the surrounding sand ridges, hundreds of tall, armored figures suddenly emerged one after another.

Their hair colors ranged from deep blacks to fiery reds, golden blondes to ashen grey, each individual striking in their own way. Gleaming weapons were clutched in their hands—swords, spears, and bows that reflected the harsh sunlight, their edges sharp and well-maintained. The intricate designs of their armor caught the golden glow of the afternoon, shining brilliantly as if forged from the very essence of the desert itself.

And the strength each of them exuded was quite formidable, with the weakest among them being in the upper Iron ranks, while over a dozen radiated the power of Silver-ranked experts!

Every elf in the vicinity raised their weapons, gazing down at the trapped hunting party below with faces brimming with excitement.

Their battle cries echoed through the air, wild and loud.

As if this weren’t enough to signal their overwhelming presence, numerous banners depicting the insignia of a black dragon were unfurled across the sand ridges, fluttering high and proud in the scorching desert winds.

Andris’ eyes widened in shock.

It really was Elves!

Under normal circumstances, stumbling upon such large number of elves would have been a cause for celebration for elves meant gold and beautiful slaves…

But at this moment, his pupils contracted before his expression entirely darkened.

With him being a ranking member of Sauron Group and especially as a caravan leader, Andris was well-informed about the rumors circulating throughout Seigües.

Moreover, with his involvement in the elven slave trade, he knew for a fact that ever since the World Tree had withered a thousand years ago, elves from various clans rarely gathered together like this, particularly not in such large, organized groups.

So, the appearance of this diverse, heavily armed elven force, adorned in lavish armor that matched a description in their group’s records, could only signify one thing:

These were the ruthless Elves who had partaken in the war underground.

The so-called evil elves from the Elven Forest!

“Shit. It’s a trap! Quickly fall back!”

Andris mind reeled as he shouted the order to retreat.

If these elves were truly the ones from the rumors, then being ambushed like this would be a disaster!

Based on what he had heard, these evil elves were nothing like the helpless, docile “little elven darlings” their group so often captured and sold to the highest bidder. If the rumors were indeed true, then these elves were far more stronger and ruthless killers who reveled in murder without blinking an eye!

Hearing Andris’ command, the hastily assembled hunting party descended into a frenzied panic.

But the evil elves moved first.

From their ranks, an elven girl suddenly stepped forward, her presence commanding attention despite her petite size. She wore a striking crimson mage robe and a wide-brimmed wizard’s hat that only added to her intimidating aura. In her hand, she held a staff, its slender form topped with an enormous, pulsating gemstone that seemed to glow with potent energy.

Without hesitation, she raised the staff high into the air, her eyes burning with exhilaration. Her voice rang out, cutting through the tension of the moment as she shouted—

“Kill them all!”

At her command, the surrounding three hundred elves roared in unison—

“Kill them all!”

“Kill them all!!”

“Kill them all!!!”

And then—

Andris watched in horror as the evil elves launched their merciless assault, each movement deliberate and practiced, as though this had been a preordained strike.

Some of the elves began to chant incantations, their voices rising in a melodic rhythm that sent a chill down Andris’ spine.

The others, however, were more direct in their approach. They raised long, dark metal tubes—strange weapons that Andris had never seen before. The deep, hollow muzzles were aimed at his men with chilling precision.

A moment later—

Thunderous explosions shattered the air, the sound reverberating across the Desert.

From the black barrels, dozens of streaks of blue light erupted, transforming into raging tongues of flame. The enchanted blue fire engulfed the bewildered orcs and human mercenaries, consuming them before they even had a chance to react.

Agonized screams echoed across the battlefield as the makeshift hunting party plunged into chaos.

In that instant, nearly half of his men were injured, while seven or eight unlucky mercenaries and orcs were struck in vital spots and died instantly.

Even their fallen bodies turned to ashes before the horrified eyes of those around them…

“What kind of cursed weapon is this?!”

Andris was shocked to his core.

He, too, had been wounded, with his arm pierced clean through by one of the flaming projectiles. Through the gaping hole in his flesh, he could see the sand dunes on the other side.

Just the sheer penetrating power of these attacks was terrifying enough to make Andris completely lose his composure.

“Retreat! Quickly fall back the way we came!”

He shouted again, leading the retreat himself.

Clearly they had been lured into a trap!

An ambush, meticulously planned to such precision that even before they could react or flee—the second wave of attacks came crashing down, halting their every attempt to regroup.

This time, it was a barrage of spells.

Ice blades, lightning bolts, thorned vines, stone spikes, fireballs…

Spells that should have only existed in the mage battalions of human armies for war now rained down in an overwhelming cascade, unleashed by hundreds of elves situated above them.

Another chorus of screams erupted as both his men and the orcs fell in droves.

The desert, once still, was now filled with the sounds of agony and chaos. Some were sliced open by razor-sharp ice blades, their wounds jagged and raw, blood mixing with the frost in a cruel contrast. Others convulsed violently, their bodies scorched by searing lightning, electricity crackling through their veins, frying them from the inside out. Some were ensnared by vines bursting from the earth, tight coils wrapping around them, suffocating and crushing them as they struggled helplessly.

Others fared no better—jagged stone spikes erupted from the ground, impaling their feet and legs, the sharp rocks tearing through muscle and bone with sickening force.

And then there were those who were obliterated by fireballs, the searing heat reducing their flesh to charred husks. Their bodies crumbled to ashes, scattered like dust in the desert wind, as if they had never been.

After these two rounds of devastating attacks, just these two were enough to incapacitate half of their entire hunting party.

Over twenty lay dead, their remains obliterated.

The horrific destruction left the surviving human mercenaries and orcs paralyzed with fear.

“T-These elves… It’s indeed those evil elves from the rumors!”

“Run! RUN!”

By this point, all thoughts of fighting had vanished from the hunting team, and the only instinct left in everyone’s mind was to flee. Each surviving member turned and ran, desperate to escape the way they had come.

There was just no way around it.

The strength displayed by the enemy was far too overwhelming.

Alas, just as the fastest runners reached the edge of the depression, two figures suddenly appeared before them, blocking their path.

One was a young elven boy, appearing no older than fourteen or fifteen. His raven-black hair contrasted starkly with his piercing crimson eyes, and his body was draped in a long black robe.

Beside him stood a half-dragon woman, seemingly in her twenties. Her fiery red hair cascaded down her back, her crimson eyes burned with amusement, and her curvaceous figure radiated both allure and menace.

Behind them was a small gathering of juvenile dragons, consisting of a young black dragon, a bronze dragon, and the very same golden dragon their party had been hunting all along. All three bared their fangs, snarling and growling at the retreating orcs and mercenaries.

Seeing them, Andris’ pupils contracted as he gritted his teeth in frustration.

This whole incident was caused by that blasted golden dragon!

However his gaze quickly shifted towards the two figures blocking their path.

There was just something deeply unsettling about these two…

The pressure they exuded was suffocating, and Andris had only felt this kind of presence once before—back when he had been chatting with the Borderlord of the Holy Maniya Empire.

These two…

They were definitely Gold-ranked Experts!

His blood turned ice-cold.

Although the other mercenaries and orcs were unable to gauge their exact strength, they could still sense the unfathomable depth of their power.

In an instant, their formation was once again thrown into sheer disorder. But just as Andris’ despair threatened to consume him, he noticed something—

These two figures didn’t seem to have the intent of attacking them. They merely stood at the exit, barring their escape but made no move to strike.

Andris’ despair flickered with a sliver of hope.

“Break through in another direction!”

He roared the command.

Without hesitation, Andris pivoted sharply, choosing another path where the fewest elves were stationed, and charged forward, his heart pounding in his chest. His men scrambled to follow from behind, each of them fleeing in every direction they could, some running desperately alongside him, others scattering in fear.

But the elven assault showed no signs of relenting.

Explosions rocked the battlefield, and another wave of mercenaries was struck down—unable to even grasp what hit them. Their screams were silenced just as their bodies turned to ash, leaving only the unsettling silence of the aftermath.

In mere moments, the hunting party’s numbers further dwindled to less than half. The remaining survivors were either writhing in agony on the ground, their bodies broken and burned, or running blindly in terror, their minds shattered by fear.

Only a fraction of his men remained, clinging desperately to Andris as they scrambled up a barren hillside.

Seeing their pitiful state, something inside him snapped.

The rage of being ambushed, coupled with the terror of facing two Gold-ranked foes and the raw, primal desire to survive—all of it ignited something deep within him.

It was as if a switch had been flipped, and in that moment, Andris felt the surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

His body moved without thought, driven by pure instinct.

With a roar that echoed across the Desert, he drew his beloved longsword. With rekindled fire in his eyes and his heart pounding, Andris charged forward, determined to face the overwhelming odds in melee combat.

The remaining mercenaries and orcs, after seeing their commander’s unyielding charge, regained some semblance of morale.

With renewed determination, they followed behind him and clashed head-on with the elves blocking their path.

— 494 —

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