Compared to an ordinary Elf Queen, she seemed more like a god.
Despite Ailin’s flowery rhetoric embellishing this “god,” Leia was certain of this irrefutable fact.
A king could have many flaws, but a god was flawless—a ruler deeply beloved by every elf. Unless she was a hypocrite skilled at manipulating minds, she was a “god” different from the Light Envoy, who could only appear within one’s comprehension, or perhaps both.
Undoubtedly, achieving such a feat required superb methods and unparalleled ability.
It felt similar to how the Evil Dragon stood at the pinnacle of the Demon Race, towering above even the Demon King… but this Elf Queen seemed far from that simple.
Leia gradually detected a sinister aura, like the rain in the sky—sometimes pausing, sometimes raging wildly—playing a mournful melody atop the tent.
She had always been sensitive, but this sensation had never appeared during the First Playthrough.
“What about the Winter Queen? What’s her relationship with the Elf Queen?”
“The Winter Queen is nominally the Elf Queen’s subordinate. The entire Northern Border falls under her sphere of influence, while the Elf Queen is mostly active in the Southern Border. Aside from slight racial differences, it’s mainly the matter of who their followers are.”
“You’re indeed different from them.”
“Is that so? It’s probably because the Winter Queen guided us. Shall I tell the Dragon King about the Winter Queen?”
“…”
Leia nodded silently, though in truth, her attention had long shifted to the soft form of Xuefei cradled in her arms.
Her strength was immense, so she barely felt the weight—like gently holding a kitten, one that radiated a warm, plush scent. To Leia, it was undoubtedly a powerful aphrodisiac.
“Rumble—!”
“Woo…”
As if in response to the thunder, Xuefei let out a cute whimper and began licking Leia’s exposed shoulder. Of course, it wasn’t impossible that she might mistake it for a hunk of meat and bite down hard. Even so, Leia wouldn’t defend herself. She knew it was because Xuefei was trapped in a nightmare.
She whispered softly into Xuefei’s ear: “You can devour my flesh and blood, if Xuefei wishes it.”
“Aw…”
“Are you refusing? That’s fine too. Until you wake, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”
Homeless, ravenous souls had mistaken Xuefei for their savior, heedlessly pouring their resentments into her fragile heart. Leia burned with fury, but it was precisely why she had lingered here. As such, she had no kind words for any elf.
Finally, Ailin’s words reached a temporary conclusion. Leia hadn’t been listening and had ignored any details that might have arisen, but she had formed her own assessment of this Elf Queen’s existence.
The two of them then sat on chairs inside an empty tent in the camp. After drawing the curtain that served as the door, the clamor of the downpour was momentarily shut out, lending a faint sense of security.
With her floodgates opened, Ailin seemed less guarded—perhaps simply because the woman before her had been willing to sit by her side and hear it all.
“Still, thank you. If I may ask… what is your relationship with Miss Xuefei?”
“…”
This question was tricky to answer.
Leia glanced at Ailin, her gaze softening noticeably. But Evil Dragons weren’t fools who flaunted their treasures for all to see; they preferred to hoard them away, savoring them in secret.
Undoubtedly, Leia had inherited nearly all of the Evil Dragon’s finest traits, and she intended to pass them down to her daughter—and her daughter’s daughter.
Thus, she instinctively chose silence.
“…”
“Family. Companion on the path to Eternity.”
“Is that so? I had thought… Apologies, that was rude of me. I shouldn’t pry so much.”
Ailin sighed. Clearly, her mind had raced down an improper path—though she had actually guessed correctly.
Leia suddenly sensed something amiss.
If others coveted her treasure, it could prove extremely dangerous.
Thus, she added, “I like her. So anyone who harms her… I’ll settle the score with them one by one.”
“Is that how it is…?!”
Ailin’s eyes lit up once more. She smiled, meaning to offer her blessings.
“Though the elves here have forgotten their traditions, we Northern Border Elves still preserve the dance of offering blessings. If you’d allow…”
“No need. Someone’s coming from outside.”
Leia spoke slowly, ever so casually.
The next instant, a booming voice rang out, as if vying to match the storm and thunder.
“Attention, all survivors! Attention, all survivors! Your protector, Elder Melvas, has arrived! Attention, all survivors! The great Melvas will use the Great Healing Spell to grant every one of you new life!”
“What was that sound?” Ailin scratched her head absently. She quickly realized that if she didn’t know, then the Evil Dragon probably wouldn’t either.
“Melvas… That name sounds familiar. Dragon King, I’ll just go take a quick look outside, all right?”
“…”
Taking the silence as agreement, Ailin pulled open the door and stepped out.
Leia peered out the window in surprise.
In theory, the requirements for using healing magic were far too stringent. It demanded not only a gift for life magic but also extensive study materials to master this skill—one that could virtually defy the natural cycle of life and death.
Healing didn’t equate to immortality, and mana wasn’t limitless. Thus, healing magic consumed an enormous amount of mana. This was why hardly anyone could wield it, and most healing mages doubled as combatants or support casters.
Ailin knew full well that apart from the Elf Queen, the Winter Queen, and a handful of elders boasting exceptional magical prowess at Soul Tier Layer 4 or even Layer 5, she had never seen anyone cast Great Healing Magic.
By the time she reached the outside, a contingent of soldiers—whose armor differed slightly from hers—followed in the footsteps of two male elves. They shoved through the rubble and arrived at the survivors’ encampment.
The leader, draped in a white rain cape, bellowed his proclamations, thunder serving as his accompaniment—or perhaps he was on the verge of becoming thunder’s own echo.
The old man standing behind him had to be Melvas himself.
He smiled and offered greetings to every tent crammed with the wounded, though few responded. His relentless determination even stirred a twinge of envy in Ailin.
“Melvas will treat you soon. No need to worry!”
“Wait—who are you?”
At last, the leader’s eyes met Ailin’s. The sight of her armor caused his wrinkles to bunch together, lending him a ferocious scowl.
“Since when has our Southern Border needed aid from lowly Northern Border elves?! Get lost! With Lord Melvas here, you’re utterly superfluous!”
“You there—the Northern Border doctor. Get out! Leave this place now!!”
He barged into one of the tents and seized the doctor—whose eyes were threaded with bloodshot veins—by the collar, ready to hurl them out into the pouring rain.
In that crucial moment, Ailin clamped onto the arm poised to fling the doctor aside. Pleading, she said, “Hold on. We haven’t finished applying the medicine yet. Please, just wait a little longer.”
“Ha?”
The leader eyed her like a despised street rat. Being an elf, he refrained from spitting.
“Let go. We don’t need your medicine. Melvas will save them!”
