Reincarnated Into A World Of Elves As The Only Man-Chapter 143: The Path to Darkness

The surviving warriors gathered at the courtyard’s edge, their breath forming clouds in the frigid air as they prepared to leave the carnage behind. Elena sat propped against a broken pillar, her face pale but determined as she watched Maria organize the remaining forces. Two of Thornvale’s most trusted guards flanked their injured queen, their hands resting on their weapons as they scanned the surrounding ruins for potential threats.

"The Obsidian Spire," Commander Lyra repeated, her white eyes reflecting the dim light filtering through the perpetual gloom. "Even the name sounds like a trap."

"Everything about this realm is a trap," Elysia replied, adjusting her grip on her weapon as she surveyed their depleted numbers. Of the original force that had entered Luna’s domain, fewer than twenty warriors remained combat-ready. The rest lay scattered across multiple battlefields, their sacrifice a stark reminder of the price they were paying for this rescue mission.

Commander Maria stepped forward, her expression grim despite their recent victory. "Your Majesty," she addressed Elena, "are you certain you can manage without additional support? The information we extracted suggests the path ahead will be even more dangerous than what we’ve already faced."

Elena’s jaw tightened, her royal pride warring with the practical reality of her injuries. "I’ve survived worse than this, Maria. Besides, you need every capable warrior for what’s coming. Don’t waste resources protecting someone who can’t contribute to the fight."

"You’re not a waste of resources," Elysia interjected, her voice carrying the weight of recent loss. "You’re the reason we’re here. Eren needs his aunt to survive this war, just as he needs his mother to rescue him."

The mention of her son sent a visible shudder through Elysia’s composed exterior. The queen of Moonlight had maintained her regal bearing throughout the battles, but the constant fear for Eren’s safety was taking its toll. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her hands trembled slightly when she thought no one was watching.

"He’s strong," Lyra said quietly, reading her mother’s distress with the intuition born of their unique bond. "Whatever they’re doing to him, he’ll survive it. He has to."

"Strength won’t protect him from everything," Elysia whispered, her voice barely audible above the wind. "The things that creature described... the experiments, the rituals... What if we’re already too late?"

Commander Elira, still bearing minor wounds from her battle with Whisper, moved closer to the royal family. "We can’t think like that. The moment we accept defeat, we’ve already lost. Eren is alive, and that means there’s still hope."

"Hope," Maria repeated, her tone bitter. "Is that what we’re calling this? We’ve murdered our way across an entire realm, tortured a prisoner for information, and left a trail of bodies that would make demons weep. At what point does hope become mere vengeance?"

The question hung in the air like a physical weight, pressing down on the assembled warriors. Each of them had blood on their hands now—not the clean death of honorable battle, but the deliberate brutality of those who had abandoned moral constraints in pursuit of their goal.

"The moment we found Viva’s broken body," Captain Diana said flatly, her voice carrying the accumulated grief of all their losses. "The moment we realized what they were doing to our people. Some lines, once crossed, change you forever."

Viva. The name sent a ripple of pain through the Thornvale contingent. The young warrior had been more than just a soldier—she had been a symbol of their kingdom’s future, a reminder of what they were fighting to protect. Her torture and death had shattered something fundamental in their collective psyche.

"She was barely past her second century," one of the surviving Thornvale warriors whispered. "Had her whole life ahead of her. Was going to be married next spring to that blacksmith’s daughter from the eastern provinces."

"They took that from her," Lyra said, her water magic responding to her emotional state by forming sharp-edged crystals in the air around her. "They took her life, her future, her love. They took everything that made her who she was and turned it into a weapon against us."

"Which is exactly what we’ve become," Maria observed, her illusion magic creating ghostly afterimages of their recent victims. "Weapons forged from grief and tempered in blood. The question is whether we can live with what we’ve become once this is over."

Elysia’s expression hardened, her maternal instincts overriding her moral qualms. "I’ll live with anything if it means bringing my son home. The guilt, the nightmares, the weight of every life we’ve taken—I’ll carry it all if it means Eren survives."

"And if he doesn’t?" Elira asked quietly. "If we arrive at this Obsidian Spire only to find that we’re too late? What then?"

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the wind howling through the ruins around them. It was a question none of them wanted to contemplate, but one that lurked at the edges of every decision they made.

"Then we make sure Luna pays for what she’s done," Elena said from her position against the pillar, her voice carrying the authority of one who had ruled for centuries. "We make sure no other mother has to lose her child to this madness."

"Enough," Elysia declared, her voice cutting through the growing despair. "We can debate the morality of our actions after we’ve rescued our people. Right now, every moment we waste is another moment Eren and any other survivors are suffering."

The remaining warriors began to organize themselves for the journey ahead, checking weapons and redistributing supplies from the fallen. The march to the Obsidian Spire would be long and dangerous, requiring them to cross terrain that had been deliberately altered to discourage intruders.

As they prepared to leave, Elena caught Maria’s arm. "Whatever happens at the Spire," she said quietly, "remember that this war started when they invaded our lands. We’re not the monsters here—we’re the ones trying to stop them."

Maria nodded, but her expression remained troubled. "I hope history remembers it that way."

The group set out into the wasteland, their footsteps echoing hollowly in the unnatural silence that had settled over Luna’s realm. The landscape around them was barren and twisted, as if the very earth had been poisoned by the dark magic that permeated everything. Skeletal trees stretched toward a sky that never quite decided whether it was day or night, their branches reaching like grasping fingers.

They walked in formation, with scouts ranging ahead and guards protecting their flanks. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the crunch of their boots on frozen ground and the occasional whisper of wind through the dead vegetation. No birds sang, no insects buzzed—the entire realm felt like a tomb.

Hours passed in this manner, the warriors pushing forward despite their exhaustion and injuries. The Obsidian Spire gradually became visible on the horizon, a black needle that seemed to pierce the very sky. It was impossibly tall, defying architectural logic as it twisted upward into the perpetual twilight.

"There," Lyra breathed, pointing toward their destination. "The heart of her power."

As they drew closer, the true scope of the structure became apparent. The Spire wasn’t just tall—it was massive, its base stretching for acres in every direction. The walls were made of black stone that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, giving the entire structure an otherworldly appearance that hurt to look at directly.

"The air," Elira observed, her mastery of atmospheric magic allowing her to sense things others couldn’t. "It’s thick with power here. Compressed, weaponized. Every breath we take is a calculated risk."

They approached the main entrance, a set of doors that stood easily thirty feet tall. The doors themselves were covered in intricate carvings that seemed to move when viewed peripherally, depicting scenes of conquest and domination that made the warriors’ skin crawl.

"No guards," Diana observed, her hand tightening on her weapon. "Either they’re supremely confident, or it’s another trap."

"Both," Maria said grimly. "Definitely both."

The doors opened at their approach, swinging inward with a grinding sound that echoed through the structure beyond. The interior was revealed in all its impossible glory—a main hall that stretched far beyond what the exterior dimensions should have allowed, with a ceiling that disappeared into mist and shadow.

The floor beneath their feet was made of some iridescent material that rippled like water with each step, creating an unsettling sensation of walking on liquid stone. The air was thick with magical power, so dense it was almost difficult to breathe.

But it was the occupants of the hall that truly gave them pause. Hundreds of elven warriors stood in perfect formation, their movements synchronized as they performed combat drills with mechanical precision. Their eyes were blank, empty of any individual will or personality—perfect soldiers created through means too horrible to contemplate.

"Training puppets," Lyra whispered, her voice barely audible. "They’re not even alive anymore."

The group pressed forward, their weapons ready but their spirits increasingly heavy. Each step took them deeper into the heart of Luna’s power, closer to answers they weren’t sure they wanted to find.

Finally, they reached the inner sanctum—a throne room that contrasted sharply with the chaotic enormity of the main hall. Here, everything was precise and austere, dominated by a simple throne carved from white stone. Six smaller seats flanked it, arranged in descending height like a mockery of royal protocol.

And there, seated upon the throne with casual arrogance, was their target.

Kiada—Luna’s lieutenant, the architect of so much suffering—regarded them with cold amusement. Five warriors flanked her, their positions suggesting they were elite guards rather than the mindless drones they had encountered in the main hall.

"Welcome, Moonlight Kingdom and Thornvale Kingdom," Kiada said, her voice carrying clearly across the chamber despite its vast size. "I see you killed my number seven warriors." Her smile was sharp as a blade, promising pain and death. "Once again, welcome to your final destination."