Chapter 118: The Elven Miss's Predicament
"Alright!" Serie said without a moment's hesitation, and pulled him by the hand, her steps now light and carefree, a stark contrast to before. "This way! I remember there's a lost ruin to the north, with magic from before the Age of Myth. I've always wanted to see it. And..."
Her voice trailed off, and she slowed, as if she had just remembered something unpleasant.
They had, without realizing it, come to the very same hill where she had been standing before, just a short distance from the tombstone she had erected for him.
"Let's go another way. It's not safe up ahead," she said.
He immediately understood. He had seen the tombstone before he had entered the Godfall Land. The elven miss clearly didn't want him to see it. And the more she tried to hide it, the more he wanted to see it, just so he could tease her a little.
"Really?" he said with a grin, a look in his eyes that made her feel a little flustered. "How dangerous is it?"
"It's just... very dangerous," she said, turning her head away.
"Well then, it must be very dangerous indeed, if even our genius mage is afraid," he said with a mock sigh.
His words had the intended effect. When has the genius mage, Miss Serie, ever been afraid?
"Of course not! I'm not afraid at all!"
"Mm-hm, I know," he said, and then walked past her and around the bend. And there it was, a small, simple stone mound, and a tombstone with the clearly inscribed words:
Rhodes's Tomb. Erected by his dearest friend, Serie.
The air froze.
Rhodes: "..."
Serie: "..."
The breeze was cool, but she could feel her face flushing, the tips of her ears turning red with shame. "Ahem," she cleared her throat, her gaze darting everywhere but at him.
He looked at the simple, yet clearly thoughtfully constructed tombstone, at the beautiful location she had chosen, and then at the elven miss beside him, who looked as if she wanted to shrink into herself, and he couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. To see the elven miss so utterly mortified... it was a wonderful feeling.
He slowly walked around the tombstone and ran a hand over its smooth surface. "Oh," he said, drawing out the word, his voice filled with a teasing amusement. "Our elven miss is quite a stonemason. And the location is excellent. Very sunny. I, the owner of this grave, am very satisfied."
"I...!" she said, turning to him, a look of cornered desperation in her eyes, but still trying to bluff her way out of it. "It's called being prepared! You'll need it eventually anyway! I was just getting it ready, so we wouldn't have to rush!" Her voice grew quieter and quieter, until it was barely a whisper. But she still puffed out her chest, as if to say, what I said makes perfect sense.
Seeing her trying so desperately to justify herself, he couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out laughing.
"Stop laughing, you damned, arrogant creature!" The elven miss was clearly getting angry now, her eyes shooting daggers at him.
"Yes, yes, the well-prepared elven miss," he said, barely managing to suppress his laughter. "I accept your preparations."
He looked at his own name on the tombstone, then at the living, breathing Serie beside him, and the plan for eternal life that had been forming in his mind grew a little clearer. But he would keep that a secret for now. He would let her think that he only had a few decades left. And then, one day, when she saw that he had not aged, that he could walk with her through the next century, and the one after that... the look on her face... it would be very interesting indeed.
"What are you looking at?" she asked, her eyes narrowed at the mysterious smile on his face.
"Nothing," he said, pretending as if nothing was wrong. "Just thinking that you were right, I will need it eventually. Come on, let's get out of this unlucky place before night falls."
He held out his hand.
She looked at his hand, then at the awkward tombstone, then back at his hand. With a pout, she took it. But before they left, she gave the tombstone one last, secret glance. It was still too simple. Without any care, it would crumble in a few decades. And so, with a slight, almost imperceptible, flick of her finger, a small preservation spell settled upon the stone. It was a spell she had learned in her thirty years of wandering, a spell that could greatly increase an object's durability. It was a shame to just let it go to waste, after all.
He saw her little gesture, and a secret smile played on his lips, but he said nothing. He just held the hand of the elven miss beside him and set off on a new journey, and this time, it was just the two of them.
In the far north.
This was the last gathering place of the demons. And since a king had now risen to lead them, it had become known as the Demon King's castle.
In the thirty years since their great defeat, their power had been in a steady decline. Without the connection to their goddess, they were leaderless. And it was then that a seemingly weak human had appeared before them.
At first, some had tried to attack him, to make him their meal. But he had obliterated them with a single blow. And in that moment, they had all felt it, a dark aura that was no different from their own. And though they had humanoid demons among them, this one had no horns. It was heresy. But no one had dared to say a word. Because he was strong, stronger than all of them combined. And he carried the aura of the goddess. And so, he had, by right of conquest, taken her place, and had become their king.
In the vast, empty throne room.
A slender figure, radiating a dark and ominous aura, sat upon the throne. It was Eirik. But he was not what Rhodes had imagined. A small part of his mind, his will, still remained. He had not yet been completely consumed.
(End of Chapter)
~~~
Get early access to 20+ advanced chapters on Patreon!
https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Hollowborn
~~~
Every 150 Power Stones = 1 extra chapter