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TWL Chapter 501: A War of Methods, a Clash of Worlds
🕑 Added 2025-07-24 05:57:43 +0000 UTCEredin stormed through the palace halls, his face dark with fury.
His mind kept replaying the scene he’d just witnessed:
Avallac'h, the elven sage, and several beast tamers had been gently scrubbing the unicorns’ bodies. Though the unicorns clearly resisted with strong aversion, they didn’t shy away from the elves’ touch.
Their hostility had faded. They no longer saw the elves as enemies to be fought tooth and horn.
Eredin had even seen one of the unicorns begin communicating telepathically with an elf!
“It’s a trick. A damned trick!”
The commander of the Wild Hunt seethed as he barreled down the hallway, eyes blazing with rage.
Others might be willing to tolerate such a thing—but not him. Not the leader of the Hunt. He would never accept a world where prey became allies.
He soon arrived at the palace’s central gate, where two guards stepped forward to block his path.
“Eredin is a loyal friend. Let him through,” came a voice from behind the door before the herald could announce his arrival.
The soldiers bowed to Eredin and twisted open the handle.
No one was inside the room. Every piece of its decor was clearly visible: a single book and an aged malachite water jug rested on the table; the walls were adorned with delicately carved bas-reliefs, pleated curtains, and floral tapestries. In one corner stood a solemn statue.
At first glance, one might assume the room belonged to a man who was learned and refined, yet far from ostentatious.
No one was in the room—but the balcony was crowded.
A long table had been placed there, filling the space completely. The servants had been dismissed, as the Alder King preferred solitude.
Eredin cast a quick glance over the table, laden with a rich assortment of dishes: more than a dozen types of vegetables, and mushrooms prepared fried, stewed, or served with sauces.
He’d tasted these meals before. Some of the white mushrooms were thin as leaves, with a mild and pleasant flavor; others, dark brown and rich, gave off a mouthwatering aroma and had a juicy, meaty texture. A light rosé accompanied the meal.
But none of this held Eredin’s attention.
What drew his eyes was the small flask of potion to the Alder King’s left. The residue inside still glowed faintly.
“Unicorn blood has detoxifying properties. It’s good for your body,” Eredin said with lowered head. “But even so, you shouldn’t be mixing it with—”
“That’s enough, Eredin. I know.” The Alder King shook his head faintly. “But I’m in pain. You know that.”
What also drew Eredin’s attention was the thing directly in front of the king.
At that moment, the Alder King was using a small knife to gather a fine white powder into two lines. He picked up a slender silver tube from the table and inhaled the powder through one nostril, then the other.
He set the tube down. His hands were pale, slender, and long-fingered. Raising his head to look at Eredin, who now stood beside him, he repeated, “I’m in pain. And you know why.”
The Alder King was tall and strikingly lean. He wore a black jacket and traditional elven high boots with a row of clasps along the sides. His long grey hair flowed loosely over one sloped shoulder, draping down along his back.
His eyes, once as luminous as molten lead and steeped in an indescribable sorrow, were now dull and clouded—brimming with tears.
Eredin lowered his head. “I’ve disappointed you.”
The Alder King—Auberon Muircetach—was the father of Lara Dorren, the original bearer of the Elder Blood, and one of only two elven sages among the Aen Elle. A hero who had led his people across worlds in search of a new home—and the one most responsible for trapping them in this dimensional prison.
No one knew how long he had lived. His face retained the youth and fineness of a man in his thirties or forties, yet everything about his presence evoked the decay of a long-forgotten tomb.
“But I want to make amends,” Eredin said gravely.
“You already have.” Oberon waved a hand. “Three years… and at last, we’ve found the unicorns again. The Aen Elle have hope once more.”
“No,” Eredin said, his voice firm. “That was Avallac’h’s doing. And he was wrong. I intend to bring us back to the right path before it’s too late.”
...
Avallac'h had already noticed Eredin’s arrival and departure. As meticulous as he was, he naturally understood what the leader of the Wild Hunt was thinking.
There had always been differences between them—differences that had only grown sharper after Eredin’s forces were wiped out. Or rather, it was Eredin who had grown increasingly combative.
Avallac'h had never deliberately opposed him; he had no taste for political power struggles.
“Keep an eye on things here for me,” he instructed the elven knight at his side, then turned toward the largest unicorn in the herd.
“Next time I come, I hope we’ll be able to speak.” The elven sage’s tone was calm and grave. “Otherwise, the problem between us will never truly be resolved.”
He left the unicorns’ designated habitat and followed Eredin’s trail to the king’s bedchamber.
“Eredin is inside, isn’t he?”
...
“Avallac'h has arrived. Do you wish to see him?” The Alder King smiled gently at Eredin, his tone surprisingly understanding.
“We can’t afford that kindness. In fact, I came to oppose him.”
So, he didn’t want to meet. The Alder King nodded without surprise. “As expected.”
“Avallac'h wants to domesticate the unicorns, perhaps even establish some so-called partnership with them. I find that completely unrealistic,” Eredin began bluntly. “He has plenty of rational arguments—and they are, in truth, quite persuasive.”
“But none of them change the fundamental problem: the uncertainty in our relationship with the unicorns!”
“If we strip them of their materials and outfit ourselves with them, the Aen Elle will regain the ability to traverse time and space. Even if that power is weakened through separation, it’s still worth it!”
“But if we rely on a ‘cooperative’ method and have the unicorns open the portals themselves—then the key power is no longer in our hands. We wouldn’t even know if they’d planted traps beforehand. Sending more soldiers into a new world might only mean more casualties!”
Eredin’s expression was earnest, his voice like the clang of tempered steel: “I still hold to my proposal—kill half of them, and keep the other half for breeding. Even if it means cutting down our space-faring forces by more than half, it’s worth it. This core power must not be wielded by another race…”
He didn’t finish.
Across from him, the Alder King suddenly widened his cloudy eyes in shock.
The elven king glanced back at the silver tube on the table, almost wondering if he were hallucinating.
A brilliant emerald glow had risen around Eredin.
In the next instant, he felt the weight of a mountain come crashing down on his shoulder—through a single hand.
“Such a passionate speech, Eredin. Honestly, I’m starting to appreciate your sharp instincts,” a calm voice said.
“As for you…” Lann’s gaze shifted past the frozen commander of the Wild Hunt, locking onto the figure seated behind—eyes dull and gray.
The Alder King.
His eyes also took in the white powder on the table—and the silver pipe beside it.
Well, now. Wasn’t that a pleasant surprise.
[Thwack!]
A crossbow bolt embedded itself in the Alder King’s shoulder. The special potion mixed with powdered metal instantly began seeping into his flesh. Black veins burst forth under his jacket, crawling up his skin like a web of ink.
With a thud, the Alder King collapsed back into his chair.
Lann frowned slightly as he noticed a flush of sickly red briefly pass over the Alder King's face.
It wasn’t that the king of the Aen Elle had some twisted fetish—there was no pleasure taken from the arrow wound.
Lann knew the Alder King harbored several unhealthy vices, habits that had left the elven sage’s body teetering on the brink of collapse.
Now, Lann had embedded anesthetics and dimeritium into the man's body via the arrow. All he could hope was that the elven ruler—having just taken his medicine—wouldn’t drop dead right then and there.
If he was going to die, at least wait a little…
“What’s going on?!”
“Your Majesty?! Are you listening?!”
Voices came from outside the bedroom—the guards standing at the door, and Aen Elle sage Avallac'h, whose senses had been alerted by the ripple caused by Lann's passage through space-time.
“There’s an intruder! A unicorn!”
They had arrived at a beautiful misunderstanding.
