The Transmigration Survival Guide – Vol. 05 Ch. 47



How Many Elves Did You Kill?

The events of that day were recorded somewhat vaguely in the elven books. Every historian recorded the event with a touch of their own interpretation. Basically, there were two factions. One interpretation claimed the elves accidentally fired, while the others proclaimed the soldiers deliberately shot down the elves.

It was a chaotic night. There were freckles of flames from torches. The loud screams spun my supposedly clever brain. Lucia didn’t see what happened for she was descending the vine. Not many people remembered what happened. The soldiers didn’t know what the spark was, either. The survivors were to the rear, so they didn’t see what happened at the front. As such, nobody knew why the first shot was fired. Nevertheless, that shot led to a disaster.

The soldiers were tense to begin with. Nobody knew if the elves were armed. Owing to the fear generated after the first gunshot, the scene was plunged into anarchy. Further, the soldiers understood the gunshot as permission to open fire. Thus, all of the soldiers in the first row pulled their triggers and gunned down all of the elves in front of them. The elves shrieked as they fled helter-skelter. The first row of elves pushed over to the soldiers. Next was a fight for weapons. Amidst the chaos, the soldiers in the rear opened fire and used their bayonets to clear out the crowd.

Lucia’s brother rushed down and shouted for the soldiers to cease, but nobody could hear his voice amidst the chaos. As a matter of fact, they thought he was ordering them to continue clearing the place out. Gunpowder and blood painted the dark sky, enveloping the entire forest in thick smoke.

Lucia dismayed, didn’t know what to do or what she could do. It was pointless to do anything at that stage. The officer finally told his soldiers to stop after receiving the order to cease their attack. Alas, it was already too late. Elves were dead if not severely injured. The blood on the ground extinguished the flames. That was the elves’ biggest loss ever. It was ironic as they just defeated humanity without losing anywhere close to the number of their brethren that they killed.

“Are there any survivors?!! Are there?! Are there?!!!” cried Lucia, standing amongst  the corpses and dismembered limbs.

A fire bloomed from a torch. Virtually all of the elves’ eyes of despair and fear were on Lucia under the light. Lucia’s legs were weak. She had never known fear before. She had crossed battlefields of corpses, but she was genuinely afraid that night. She tightly gripped her arm and howled. It was as though she awaited a non-existent voice’s response. The soldiers were panic-stricken as they searched the corpses in attempt to compensate for their mistake.

Elves don’t kill fellow elves. That was a norm that had to be upheld among elves. Elves only killed traitors. In the past, Lucia could justify her kills, didn’t regret killing the elves that she killed and exiling the Queen. What wrong did the elves there do, though? Nothing. They merely voiced their discontent. They had the right to do so. Every elf had the right to a voice.

“What have I done?” was the question constantly hammering Lucia’s mind.

The smell of blood rushing in Lucia’s nose reminded her of what happened. The wind blew against her face. The blood was so sticky that it was impossible to breathe. Every breath contained the blood of innocents. She touched her face with her scarlet and wet hands. Countless screams and cries reverberated, and the culprits of it all were her fellow elves.

“Why did I fight the Demon King? Why did I go through snow, wind and deserts? What did I risk my life for? I risked my life to protect them. I was supposed to protect my fellow elves, the elves who smiled, sang and danced with me. I did everything to protect this era of the elven forest! I did it all for them!! Those elves I was supposed to protect are now lying on the ground in front of me, and my hands are covered in their blood,” realised Lucia.

Lucia’s legs finally gave in. Countless corpses clung to her. She could seemingly see their tragic souls floating around her. They came closer and closer.

“No… Don’t… Don’t… Don’t…” Lucia dropped to her knees. She sobbed, “Sorry… sorry… sorry… sorry… sorry…”

Lucia buried her face in her trembling hands. Her tears rolled down her cheeks. She leaned over to the side and vomited. She did her best to hurl everything up as if she wanted to throw up her organs, as well. As Her body weakly tilted into the mush of blood as she convulsed. She repetitively apologised, ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry… sorry… sorry… sorry… I’m sincerely… sincerely… sorry…”

I gently picked up an elf who was convulsing. She struggled to look up at me. She had a hole in her chest. She had no blood left to bleed. Her eyes didn’t contain the fear before death but eagerness. She used her last ounce of strength to open her hand, revealing a piece of black fabric stained with blood…

The elf understood what I meant and what I wanted to do. The disturbance wasn’t my opportunity. Its aftermath was my opportunity. The field of corpses weren’t elven corpses but pieces and pieces of black fabric. The bloodstained black fabric was my commodity. The elf understood that. She turned herself into a piece of black fabric that didn’t stand out. There was nothing more worthless in the world than the corpses, but, for me, a businessman, my goal was to turn worthless goods into the most valuable goods.

Mourning was the one thing I should never do. That was reserved for Lucia and the rest. What I had to do was consider how to elevate the value of their deaths; or rather, I had already planned their deaths. Therefore, I didn’t have any other thoughts in the moment. I placed her corpse down and got to my feet.

I noticed Lucia lying on her side in misery. Aggravating her then was immoral. If I was hung up on morals with everything and decided to be considerate of her, however, would I still be me? I wasn’t there to give Lucia bliss.

I knelt down and hugged Lucia. She tightly hugged me as if I was her life vest. She was freezing and quivering. She tightly hugged me to plead for one last bit of warmth. Unfortunately, she came to the wrong person.

Next to Lucia’s ear, I whispered, “Lucia, how many elves have you killed?”

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