Chapter 173: Unresolvable Hatred

The sky had darkened into deep twilight, the last traces of orange and purple fading beyond the horizon.

Torches and small fires flickered to life around the village, casting dancing shadows across the clearing where the male elves continued their gruesome work.

Julius sat apart from them, perched on a fallen log at the edge of the tree line.

While the others dug through flesh and bone, searching for bullets with trembling hands and tear-streaked faces, he had simply walked away.

No one stopped him. No one expected him to help.

He was above such things or at least, he had been.

Now he sat alone, his face twisted into an expression of pure, venomous frustration.

Every single plan had failed.

Driving Luca out of the village? Failed.

Destroying his reputation? Failed.

Killing him? He had the chance.

The perfect chance. A gun in his hands, the hero’s forehead pressed against the barrel, begging to be shot.

And he couldn’t do it.

He still didn’t understand why. Some primal instinct had seized control of his body and refused to let go.

Even now, sitting here, he couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t justify it. Could only hate himself for his weakness.

And now? His reputation was in shambles.

Once, he had been a respected figure—feared, perhaps, but respected. Even those who disliked him wouldn’t dare speak against him openly.

Now everyone mocked him. Jeered at him. Treated him like the lowest of the low.

And Luca had called him such filthy names—worthless, pathetic, a coward—and Julius had said nothing.

And then there was what he had witnessed. The demonstration. The two humans reduced to piles of shredded meat.

Julius had heard the rumors—tales of Luca annihilating entire groups on the human continent—but he had never seen it firsthand.

Now he had.

And it terrified him.

Part of him wanted to abandon everything.

Flee. Run far away from this forest, from this hero, from this nightmare. Disappear into the human continent and never look back.

But another part—the arrogant, ambitious part that had driven him for his entire life refused.

If he ran now, he would live in shame forever.

Hunted. Despised. Worthless.

Everything he had built, everything he had worked for, would mean nothing.

He couldn’t accept that.

But he also couldn’t think of anything to do.

He stomped his foot against the ground, imagining it was Luca’s face beneath his heel. The frustration was eating him alive.

And that was when a voice called out.

“Julius.”

He looked up.

Rufus and Isaac approached, their faces twisted with the same fury that burned in Julius’s own chest.

Both clutched their wounds—the arrow wounds from earlier, which still pained them with every movement.

Before Julius could speak, Rufus launched into his tirade.

“We have to do something about that damn Hero! I can’t take it anymore! Just looking at his infuriating face makes me want to vomit!”

Isaac nodded vehemently.

“He humiliated us over and over again! Shoved mud in our faces like we were worthless dogs! And then he shot us!”

He gestured at his wound.

“He says it was an accident, but I know he planned it! He aimed right at us on purpose!”

Rufus winced, touching his own injury.

“It hurts every time I breathe. Every single breath reminds me of him. I want to tear him apart. I want to kill him! But I haven’t gotten the opportunity.”

He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at Julius.

“But you on the other hand had a chance. You had the gun. You had him right there.”

His voice dripped with accusation.

“So why didn’t you do it? Why!?”

Isaac moved to his other side, hemming him in.

“Yes, Master. If it were me, I would have pulled the gun without hesitation. I would have turned him into the same pile of meat on that ground. But you?”

He shook his head like he was utterly disappointed by his mentors actions.

“You didn’t. Why?”

Both of them were looking down at him.

They had never dared to look at him like this before. They were his subordinates, his followers, his tools.

They were supposed to look up to him, not down.

The disrespect added fuel to an already raging fire and Julius shot to his feet.

“SHUT UP! BOTH OF YOU!”

They recoiled slightly, surprised by the outburst.

“You don’t understand! You have no idea what it was like standing there! With that gun in my hands! With him looking at me like—like—”

He struggled to find words, his composure completely shattered.

“If you had been in that position, you wouldn’t have done anything either! So unless you’ve been there, SHUT YOUR MOUTHS AND DON’T SPEAK TO ME!”

Rufus and Isaac exchanged glances.

They had never seen Julius like this—so raw, so uncontrolled, so desperate.

He had always been the calm one, the composed one, the one who never let emotions show.

But still, Rufus’s anger burned too hot to back down.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t understand.”

He stepped forward again, his voice low and intense.

“But I do understand that he humiliated me in front of my wife. Do you know what that feels like?!”

“To have the bitch you’re supposed to dominate see you brought so low?!”

His fists clenched.

“She looked at me with disgust, Julius. With pity. My own daughter saw me like that and I-I can never undo that. I can never make them un-see it!”

His voice cracked slightly as he hatefully added,

“I have to do something! No, we have to do something! We can’t let him win!”

Julius stared at him for a moment.

Then he laughed.

It wasn’t a pleasant sound—hollow, bitter, edged with madness.

“Then tell me?”

His voice was a dangerous whisper.

“Tell me, o genius. What are we supposed to do?”

Rufus faltered.

“Go on. You’re so eager for action. You want revenge so badly. So give me a plan.”

“Tell me exactly how we’re going to take down the hero who just obliterated the human continent without breaking a sweat.”

Isaac opened his mouth, but Julius cut him off.

“No, no, I want to hear it from Rufus. Since he’s so certain. So confident.” His eyes bored into Rufus’s. “Come on. I’m waiting. What’s your brilliant idea?”

Rufus opened his mouth, then closed it.

When he actually tried to think of a plan, a real plan to go against Luca, his mind went completely blank.

The Hero was like a mountain. Immovable. Unclimbable. Impossible to overcome.

He bit his lip in frustration, the taste of blood sharp on his tongue.

Then, slowly, an idea began to form.

His eyes flickered with something—hope? desperation?—as he looked at Julius.

“What about the trump card, Julius?”

His voice dropped to an urgent whisper.

“What if you use ’that’ against him? If we do that, we could—”

He never finished the sentence.

Julius’s hand shot out and clamped over Rufus’s mouth with terrifying force.

“SHUT UP, YOU IDIOT!”

Julius’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of a scream.

“SHUT THAT FILTHY MOUTH OF YOURS!”

Rufus’s eyes trembled with shock at how crazy Julius seemed at the moment.

Julius on the other hand glanced around frantically, checking the shadows, the tree line, every possible hiding place.

“That bastard might be close by! He could be listening! He’s probably already hunting for any dirt on me, any weakness to exploit, and here you are—”

He shook Rufus roughly.

“—shouting about it out in the open! Are you insane?!”

His chest heaved with panicked breaths. For a moment, he simply stood there, trembling with barely controlled rage.

Finally, he released Rufus and stepped back.

He brushed off his hands as if touching the other man had soiled them, and visibly forced himself to calm down.

When he spoke again, his voice was controlled, but cold.

“What you’re suggesting won’t work.”

“That…measure…is an absolute last resort.”

“If everything goes wrong. If he actually finds a way to kill me. Only then can I use it.”

He fixed Rufus with a hard stare.

“And even if I did, it would be mutual destruction. There’s no escaping it. That’s not a plan—it’s a suicide pact.”

Rufus wasn’t satisfied. The desperation still burned in his eyes.

“But you have to think of something, Julius! I can’t stand it anymore! Just the thought of him being near me, breathing the same air—”

He shuddered with pure hatred.

“Yes, Master.” Isaac nodded eagerly. “He humiliated us in front of everyone. We have to do something!”

Julius looked at them like he was talking to idiots.

Then he sneered.

“Fine. If you want to do something so badly, go ahead.”

He gestured dismissively toward the village.

“Challenge him to a duel. Attack him in his sleep. Do whatever you want.”

His lip curled.

“You’ll be choosing your own death, but that’s your decision. Leave me out of it.”

He turned away.

“I’ll find my own way, one way or another. I want nothing to do with you two.”

And he walked off into the darkness, leaving Rufus and Isaac standing alone.

Rufus stared after him, his face contorted with rage.

“That damn Julius.”

He hissed under his breath.

“Just because he used to rule over us, he thinks he still can. Treating us like we’re still beneath him.”

He spat on the ground.

“I hate him! I hate him almost as much as I hate that Hero!”

Isaac shifted nervously as he said,

“But what can we do? You saw what happened. Even when Julius had a gun pointed at his head, the Hero didn’t care. He was begging to be shot.”

His body shook in horror at the memory.

“How do you fight someone like that?”

Rufus had no answer. Everything he thought of, every plan, every scheme, every possible attack—it all crumbled against the reality of Luca’s power.

But then he heard it.

Laughter. Distant, but clear. The sound of female elves celebrating, of children playing, of a village coming alive with hope and joy.

The sound of everything Luca had given them.

And in that moment, an idea sparked in Rufus’s mind.

Not a good idea. Not a smart idea. But an idea nonetheless.

A vicious smile spread across his face.

“You’re right, Isaac. We can’t do anything to him. He’s impenetrable. Untouchable. No matter what we try, it won’t work.”

Isaac frowned. “Then what—”

Rufus’s smile grew wider, more malicious.

“But what if we destroy something he cares about?”

His eyes gleamed in the darkness.

“Something he worked hard to restore. Something precious to these elves. What do you think would happen then?”

“Would he be happy? Or would he be on his knees in despair?”

Isaac’s eyes lit up with understanding—and excitement.

“What is it, Rufus? What are you planning?”

Rufus leaned in close, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“I have something in mind. Something that will send a message that Hero will never forget.”

He pulled back, his expression turning serious.

“But if we do this, we can’t stay here. We’ll have to run. Escape. There won’t be any rules protecting us anymore—we’ll be on our own.”

Isaac didn’t hesitate.

“I was already planning to get out of this cursed place anyway.” He spat on the ground. “I’ve learned enough from master. I’m strong enough to survive anywhere. Settle somewhere else, do whatever I want.”

His eyes hardened with resolve.

“But I can’t leave without revenge. Not after what he did to us.”

He met Rufus’s gaze.

“Whatever it is, I’m in. Let’s do it.”

The two of them stood in the darkness, their faces twisted with hatred and malicious intent.

And somewhere in the village, unaware of the threat brewing in the shadows, Luca sat among the elves, laughing at a joke Lulu had told about chickens, completely oblivious to the plot taking shape just beyond the firelight.

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