Forbidden Region

by Michael Sisa

  “But it would be wise if we start moving with the assumption that the two are one and the same,” said the priestess. “And even if he is a different person from the avatar of the Sun God, the fact that he managed to tame that monster remains. We should tread carefully, Father.”

  The king understood what the priestess meant. If the God of the Scylla was indeed Evander Alaester, then they should definitely pursue a friendlier relationship with him and his territory—Blackstone Town. And even if they were wrong, they would not be losing much from this assumption.

  “We’ve closed our nation for too long,” the king said in regret. “If only we had more information regarding that town, that kingdom… it would have been easier to come up with a decision.”

  The king sighed and fell silent for a long time. Eventually, he said, “For the sake of the elven race, we shall open our nation to Blackstone Town.”

  The king looked at the priestess and she nodded her head in approval.

  The military officers closed their eyes upon hearing those words, while the ministers heaved sighs of relief.

  “I will personally go to the border and meet with that human,” said the king. “Commander Khuumal, you shall accompany me, along with two guardian golems and a hundred royal guards.”

  “Understood!”

  Although the king had just declared that he would go to where the scouts had been annihilated, no one raised a protest. This much was needed for something of this scale. They would be opening their nation to outsiders after hundreds of years, after all.

  ***

  Although it would normally take a month on foot to reach the forest border, the king and his entourage managed to reach it in just a week. The elks, together with the spirits, made it possible for the elves to move through the sea of trees with ease.

  “Your Majesty, we’ve arrived,” said Commander Khuumal.

  The entourage halted. King Melandrach stared at the trees in front of him. Although it was faint, he could see the distortions in space right before his eyes. He realized that all of the trees in front of him were mere illusions—a mirage.

  “An illusion spell,” said the king.

  “I believe so, Your Majesty,” said the commander.

  “Then, how do we get in?”

  As though those words were on cue, a rift appeared right in front of them. It slowly expanded, until it became large enough to accommodate even the guardian golems. Looking inside the rift, they could see a large stone castle and the seven-headed monster from before.

  “King of Elves,” said the seven-headed monster. “My God has given his permission. You may enter our sacred domain.”

  The Scylla was as imposing and as threatening as before. Although it was speaking to the King of Elves, it held no hint of respect or deference at all. It looked at King Melandrach as though he was nothing but an insignificant insect.

  “You may bring a dozen guards with you,” added the Scylla. “And those golems. Bring them inside.”

  The king, along with a dozen guards and the two guardian golems, entered the rift. The moment they entered the space protected by the illusion spell, they realized that the stone castle was far larger than they’d expected. What they had seen outside was only a portion of its towering walls and battlements. The castle itself was twice the size of their royal palace.

  Various questions started running through King Melandrach’s mind.

  How did they manage to build this castle in such a short period of time? Why did they build a castle in this part of the forest? And why was an absurdly strong defensive spell, together with a seven-headed monster, protecting it?

  “Welcome,” a familiar voice spoke.

  A young man with short silver hair emerged from the castle’s entrance.

  “Thank you for coming all the way here. You must be tired from the long journey,” said Lark. “I’ve prepared some refreshments. Please, come inside.”

  Lark ushered the king and his men inside the castle. Along the way, they passed by a large statue, its upper body covered by a cloth, as though the Lord of Blackstone Town did not wish anyone to see what it looked like. Looking around, although well made, the castle’s interior was surprisingly empty. There were no paintings, no carpets, no fixtures commonly found in castles.

  Even the grand hall had only a single table and two chairs, just enough for Lark and the King of Elves.

  After the two of them sat, Lark poured the king a drink and got straight to the point, “So, has His Majesty arrived at a decision?”

  The king drank the wine offered to him without hesitation. For some strange reason, the wine was very similar to the ones their warriors normally drank in taverns.

  King Melandrach gently placed the cup on the table and said, “Yes. But before that, I hope you can answer one question of ours, honestly.”

  Lark looked at the king curiously. “A question?” He paused, sipped his wine and said, “If it is something within the limits of my knowledge, alright.”

  “Are you Evander Alaester, the magician who lived during the Age of Magic, fifteen centuries ago?”

  Lark hadn’t expected this question from the king. He fell silent, smiled, and eventually said, “I am.”

  King Melandrach’s eyes widened. Even Commander Khuumal and the royal guards stared at the human in wonder. Rumors of the human’s real identity had already spread throughout the kingdom. And now, the human had just confirmed it himself, that he was that same magician written in the legends.

  A human who’d single-handedly repelled several demonic invasions and killed two demon lords during his lifetime.

  Shivers crawled down the elves’ spines as they realized that they were in the presence of such a monster.

  “So, i-it’s true,” said the king. “But the journal… it clearly said that you died from a curse. The Ritual of the Immortal failed. A human couldn’t possibly live this long. How—”

  “One question,” said Lark, smiling. “I agreed to answer only one question.”

  “Ah, that’s right. I apologize for overstepping my bounds.” King Melandrach lightly bowed his head.

  It was regrettable, but it was indeed true that he’d asked the human to answer only a single question. King Melandrach inwardly clicked his tongue for this blunder. Had he known that the human wouldn’t deny it, he would have requested more answers.

  The two started discussing the trade between Aerith and Blackstone Town. As agreed before, Blackstone Town would provide the elven kingdom with at least four thousand bottles of bloodstone water each year. In exchange, the elven kingdom would provide the town with metals, fabric, herbs, fruit, and meat.

  According to the elves, the fabrics Lark had seen before were made using threads produced by a carnivorous worm species living in a cavern near the city of Aerith. Although the supply of these threads was limited, King Melandrach promised to sell the bulk of their harvest to Blackstone Town. Furthermore, the king also promised to provide vast quantities of medicinal herbs. With which it should be possible for Lark to create high-grade potions.

  For a moment, Lark remembered Big Mona. That fat merchant would definitely squeak in glee once he presented these items to him.

  King Melandrach placed an arrow on the table. Its tip was made of a black metal reminiscent of obsidian.

  “This is the metal our race uses to create arrowheads,” said the king. “It’s as strong as iron and as potent as a paralyzing potion made from mydrengia. Even a graze from this arrow can paralyze an elk in mere seconds.”

  Lark took the arrow and inspected its tip. “An arrow that could paralyze its target. This will surely boost the firepower of my archers. Impressive.”

  Lark’s gaze moved toward the golems standing behind the king. He was curious about what kind of technology the ancestors of the elves used to make those things. For a moment, Lark had the urge to cut their bodies open and look at the mechanism engraved inside.

  “Of course,” the king said proudly. “When I was young
, this forest was infested with monsters. A species of devouring apes lived in this territory. They could rip elks apart with their bare hands and they could move through the trees as though running on flat ground. But over time, our warriors eventually managed to wipe them out—these arrows greatly contributed to that victory.”

  “This forest is indeed eerily peaceful, despite its size,” said Lark. “The elves killed all of the monsters living in this forest, huh?”

  “That much was needed to protect the children,” said the king. “Unlike humans, we aren’t capable of giving birth to several offspring. The death of a single elf carries far greater weight for our race.”

  For a race with a declining population, Lark believed that eliminating the threats in the forest had been a wise decision.

  “If you would permit us, we’d like to create a road connecting this castle and the city of Aerith,” said Lark.

  “A road,” said the king. “I don’t see any harm in creating one, as long as the damage to the forest is kept to a minimum…”

  “I’ll see to it that as few trees as possible are destroyed in the process of creating this road,” Lark gave his assurance.

  The king smiled. He was glad that the human before him knew how important the forest was to the elven race.

  The two finally came to a consensus.

  Lark raised his cup. “For the elves.”

  King Melandrach also raised his cup. “For Blackstone Town.”

  From now on, Aerith would open their nation to Blackstone Town.

  VOLUME 6: EPILOGUE

  “God Evander, you’re leaving already?” the Scylla’s first head asked despondently.

  The meeting with the elves had ended a few hours ago. King Melandrach and his entourage had already returned to their kingdom, leaving behind five elves proficient in earth magic to help with the creation of the road connecting the castle and Aerith.

  “These herbs I received from the elves,” said Lark. “I want to try them out. I’ll probably be able to make high-grade potions with these. And these fabrics, I’m going to show them to a merchant I’m acquainted with.”

  “I believe the poison brat left behind several pinnacle-grade potions. There’s no need for God Evander to concern himself with mere high-grade potions,” said the fifth head.

  “That’s right! And the fabrics produced by these elves are mediocre at best! We can easily tear through it with our claws!” said the seventh head.

  “These aren’t for me.” Lark smiled in understanding. “They’re for my subjects. The people living in Blackstone Town.”

  “Are those humans living in that town really that important?” said the third head.

  “That’s right,” said Lark. “Blackstone Town is important.”

  “Blackstone Town is important,” repeated the first head in a small, almost inaudible voice.

  Lark looked at the five elves left behind to help the Scylla create the road. Although the five of them were trembling from fear and their faces were drained of color, Lark could see the conviction within their eyes.

  “I’m really glad that we’ve become trading partners with the elves,” Lark said to them. “Even if something similar to the black famine strikes our land, we’ll be fine. King Melandrach told me that your kingdom never once suffered from hunger nor drought. He told me that in Aerith, food is incredibly abundant.”

  The oldest among the five elves spoke, “W-We’re also grateful that you’re willing to give us something as valuable as the bloodstone water!”

  Lark smiled wryly. He felt a prick of conscience. Dipping the bloodstone in water hardly sapped away at its strength—it was almost negligible. Lark cleared his throat. “I’ve already received permission from King Melandrach for the creation of the road. He told me that the five of you held the highest aptitude in earth magic.”

  “Yes,” said the oldest elf. “We have also made contracts with earth spirits.”

  “Impressive,” said Lark. “Then, I’ll leave it to you. Please work together with Blackie here.”

  The Scylla looked disapprovingly at the elves after Lark praised them.

  “Yes! Please leave it to us!”

  “We’ll do our best to make a road connecting to this castle!”

  The Scylla snorted.

  “God Evander,” said the first head. “These insects will just be a hindrance. Earth spirits? Bah! They’re nothing compared to an Earth Scylla!”

  “What did you say?” one of the elves snapped upon hearing the Scylla insult their contracted spirits.

  “It’s true, isn’t it? Can your spirits make a castle as majestic as this?” said the first head.

  “The most they could probably do is make a bump on the ground!” sneered the seventh head.

  The rest of the Scylla’s heads started chuckling, as though it was the most hilarious thing they’d ever heard. Even the third head was openly showing its dislike of the five elves, especially after Lark uttered his praises for them.

  The elves were livid. One of them even started putting his hands on the quiver, ready to pull out an arrow.

  Lark immediately moved to pacify them. “Now, now. Let’s get along, shall we? Blackie, with King Melandrach gone, these five elves represent the elven kingdom. I want you to treat them with respect. And you are not allowed to harm them, no matter what. Do you understand?”

  “B-But we can create the road on our own!” protested the first head.

  “That’s right! We don’t need these elves to help us!” said the second head.

  Lark cast an apologetic glance at the elves. With a stern voice, he repeated to the Scylla, “Do you understand?”

  The Scylla lowered its heads glumly. “Yes. We… We won’t harm these elves, God Evander. Please leave the creation of the road to us.”

  Lark sighed. “I’ll visit every now and then. Cooperate with the elves. You can destroy some trees, but be sure to keep the damage to the bare minimum, just enough to create a path, a road. And you absolutely must not harm any elven oaks.”

  “Yes, God Evander.”

  Lark nodded in satisfaction. At least now, he’d no longer have to worry about the Scylla ‘accidentally’ killing the elves. Furthermore, he’d no longer have to worry about the Scylla greatly damaging the forest. He’d promised King Melandrach that he would keep the damage to the bare minimum, after all.

  After giving several more instructions to the Scylla, Lark finally went back to Blackstone Town. Only the Scylla and the five elves were left in the castle. Now that they were alone, the five elves wondered if they would suddenly be eaten by the seven-headed monster. But to their surprise, a rift in the illusion spell opened, and a path leading to the outside appeared.

  “We shall start making the road immediately,” said the Scylla domineeringly.

  Following behind the Scylla, the elves left the castle. The rift closed and they were finally back in the Endless Forest.

  The elves looked at each other. They thought that maybe the creation of the road wouldn’t end in a tragedy as they’d initially thought.

  But they soon realized that they were wrong.

  To their horror, without warning, the Scylla started gathering vast amounts of mana, and using all seven heads, cast Grand Scale Magic. A colossal wind vortex started forming in front of the Scylla. It slowly grew in size as it continuously sucked in mana from the seven-headed monster. And the moment it reached a diameter of thirty meters, it shot forward, in a straight path toward the direction of the elven kingdom.

  “W-What are you doing?”

  “Oh, God Gaia!”

  “Stop!”

  “You’re destroying the forest!”

  The elves’ shouts were muffled by the blast of wind. Trees were blown into chips and fragments and even the root-blanketed ground wasn’t spared by the spell. The Grand Scale Magic the Scylla had cast easily made a half kilometer long clearing on the ground.

  “What, what is this? What did you do?” the oldest elf ran to the
Scylla and started kicking its legs. He was fuming with rage and no longer considered the consequences of aggravating the seven-headed monster. “The trees! You! You destroyed the forest!”

  “Stop yapping. I’m creating the road,” said the Scylla. “And stop asking the obvious, damn insect.”

  The elves opened and closed their mouths. They were stunned speechless by the Scylla’s flawed logic.

  Making roads? This seven-headed monster had just destroyed over a hundred trees with a single spell!

  “My master told me that this is the best way. The fastest way,” said the Scylla with pride. “Indeed, the master is wise. It’ll be easier to make the road now, isn’t that right?”

  The Scylla stared at the elves and added, “And worry not, we’ll use a weaker spell if an elven oak is nearby.”

  Ignoring the dumbstruck elves, the Scylla started hardening the clearing it had made using magic. Astonishingly, despite its tendency to destroy everything in its path, the Scylla was incredibly dexterous in earth magic. It skillfully manipulated the soil as it created the road.

  A realization dawned unto the elves.

  “Were you the one who made that castle?” breathed one of the elves.

  The Scylla looked at the elves. The seven-headed monster looked at them as though they were pitiful creatures who couldn’t even comprehend something so glaringly obvious. The Scylla snorted and didn’t utter another word. It shouldn’t have expected much from these… things.

  God Evander said that he would visit this place every now and then. The Scylla vowed to make a grand road, something that would shame even that of an empire, for him.

  The Scylla looked forward to the day when he would see the road it had created.

  ***

  [Lion City]

  Big Mona hummed as he flipped through the Merchant Guild’s ledger in his hand. He could still vividly remember the incident in Mavas City several weeks ago.

  “That fool,” chuckled the fat merchant. “He should have stored them at different granaries. How stupid.”

  A few months ago, Mavas City had suffered an arson attack. The lord’s castle burned to the ground, and all of the food stored inside—meant to feed the people during winter—was engulfed by the flames, reduced to nothing but dust.