Chapter 2

Burning with unbearable anxiety, I abandoned all courtesy, shoving through layer upon layer of the crowd until I squeezed into the central plaza of the Royal City.

Deafening cheers and curses intertwined, piercing the clouds.

But in my eyes, the entire world vanished, leaving only that blinding, piercing crimson at the center of the altar.

Ereven.

My daughter.

She looked so much like her mother.

But she looked so frail. Her thin body was draped in an oversized, blood-red robe—the ultimate capital punishment attire the elves reserved only for the most unforgivable and wicked criminals.

Her hands were bound by magical chains. She stood alone on the high platform like a broken ragdoll, facing tens of thousands of spectators.

"My compatriots!"

A booming, majestic voice echoed across the plaza through amplification magic.

Above the high platform, High Priest Kalad, draped in gorgeous golden robes and gripping his scepter, looked down upon the masses from his elevated perch.

"Fifty years ago, that shameless traitor named Arion, in his pursuit of so-called dark power, not only sold out the elite elite army of our Elven race, but completely annihilated the allied forces of the other races that marched to subjugate the Demon King!"

Kalad roared with extreme, hypocritical righteousness. "He defected to the demons! He is the greatest disgrace in the history of our Elven race!"

Hearing those words, I bit my jaw so hard my teeth ached, my fists clenched tight enough to pop.

Shameless beyond belief!

Fifty years ago, to seize supreme ruling power over the elves, it was Kalad who ordered the spatial portal closed as the allied army retreated! He left us to be dragged alive into the void turbulence by the demonic horde!

Fifty years had passed, and he had actually rewritten history, pushing all his sins onto me while painting himself as the wise sage of the elves!

"And today!"

Kalad’s scepter pointed sharply at Ereven on the stage. "The abomination left behind by this traitor must offer her flesh and soul to the Blood Sun! Only by burning her to ashes can we wash away the century of humiliation Arion brought upon us!"

"Kill her!"

"Burn the traitor's spawn!"

"The Elven race doesn't need sinful bloodlines!"

The elven citizens below completely boiled over.

With bloodshot eyes, they cursed like maniacs.

Countless pieces of rotten vegetables and rancid eggs rained down upon Ereven.

Foul juices dripped down her hair, staining her delicate face.

Yet she didn't even flinch.

She simply bit her lip tightly and kept her head down, letting the filth strike her body.

Her dull, grey eyes were brimming with shame and despair. Her trembling frame seemed to be pleading guilty to the entire world, as if even she believed her father was an unforgivable monster and she was born with original sin.

Seeing my daughter's resigned, submissive state felt like ten thousand sharp knives simultaneously carving my heart to shreds.

"Go to hell, you filthy trash!"

Just then, a young elf standing near me with a twisted face dug a sharp, fist-sized rock out of the ground. Winding up his arm, he prepared to hurl it viciously at Ereven's head.

If that rock hit, she would be severely injured, if not entirely killed.

I snapped my head toward him, locking onto him with a death stare.

I didn't use a single drop of magic. I simply released my internal restraints, unleashing the materialized killing intent I had condensed over fifty years of wading through blood and corpses, projecting it at him without reservation.

The air seemed to freeze in that instant.

The young elf happened to meet my eyes.

His arm froze mid-air. Eery drop of blood drained from his fanatical face in a tenth of a second, leaving it as pale as paper.

It was as if, through my eyes, he saw an endless abyss piled mountain-high with corpses.

Clatter.

The rock slipped from his fingers.

Thud!

His legs gave way, and he collapsed onto his knees, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

It wasn't just him. The few civilians nearby who had been yelling the loudest instantly felt the terror of this deathly, ice-cold aura.

They widened their eyes in horror, guttural choking sounds coming from their throats as they scrambled backward in a panic. One of them even had a stream of foul, yellow liquid seeping from his trousers.

Dragons have reverse scales! Touch them and you die!

I shifted my gaze back to Kalad, perched high and mighty on the altar.

Fifty years of fighting in baths of blood. Fifty years of surviving by the skin of my teeth.

I thought I was defending the homeland I loved. But looking at it now, what kind of ignorant fools was I really protecting?

My last shred of attachment to the Elven race was completely obliterated into ash.

I was no longer the great general of the Elven Royal Court who died for honor.

I was simply an enraged father.

"The hour has arrived!"

Kalad's hypocritical, cruel voice rang out again. He looked up at the sky, the cold sneer on his lips deepening. "Bring the daughter of the sinner forward! Ignite the flames of purification!"

Two heavily armed, high-elf elite guards marched forward, ruthlessly grabbing Ereven by her thin arms.

They roughly dragged her off the high platform and moved toward the massive pyre behind it, which had already been drenched in pungent oil.

And beneath the pyre, the executioner had already raised his torch high into the air.