Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls

Elen'Var narrowed his eyes, and his voice cut through the silence like a sharp blade: "And those two... they kill their own people. Who else here is a traitor besides you?"

'This guy is spellbound...' Kael thought, analyzing his mana before laughing unintentionally.

Kael let out a low, tired laugh. A hoarse sound, without joy. He still held the mana sword that Elen'Var had thrown, and the silver glow of the blade reflected in his eyes, darkened by the effort.

"Interesting to hear that from you," he replied, planting his feet firmly among the rubble. "... accusing me of treason without even knowing the faces of those you pretend to protect."

Elen'Var's golden eyes narrowed even further.

"Are you accusing me of blindness, heretic?"

Kael ignored the provocation and nodded toward one of the fallen bodies—one of the first to be killed by the traps.

"How about checking?" he said. "See with your own eyes who really fell here. See who you're so eager to avenge."

Elen'Var hesitated for a brief moment. Then, with a sharp gesture of his hand, one of the elves accompanying him stepped forward—a young warrior in light armor, runes of recognition glowing faintly blue on his bracelets.

The elf cautiously approached the body Kael had indicated. The cultist's black cloak still covered his face and torso. Dust and blast marks obscured the details, but the hands... the hands already told a story.

They were broad, with black claws. The skin was hardened like charred leather, with cracks pulsing dark red. The smell of sulfur permeated the air around the body.

The elf hesitated for a moment, then pulled back the hood.

What remained of the face was a mask of horrors.

The elven features were distorted, deformed by corruption. The eyes had disappeared, replaced by glowing vertical slits. The teeth had lengthened into jagged fangs, and black horns sprouted from the forehead.

A heavy silence fell over the temple once more.

The elf stepped back, pale, and stared at Elen'Var with wide eyes.

"That is no longer one of us," he said with difficulty. "That... that is a demon. Or something in between."

Elen'Var took a step toward the body, now visible in the light of dawn. He stared for a few seconds at what had once been an elf—now nothing more than a vessel consumed by darkness.

His expression did not change immediately. But something in him... wavered. A small crack in his wall of absolute conviction.

Kael, watching, seized the moment.

"You call them murderers. But tell me, Elen'Var: if a man is consumed by fire and burns until he becomes something else... is he still the same man? Or is he just a memory of what he was, disguised in flames?"

Silence was the only answer for a moment.

Kael continued, stepping forward, still holding the sword that did not belong to him.

"They are no longer elves. What we fought here was a seed planted long before you or I. A power that infects, that corrupts everything it touches. Would you have preferred to leave them alive? To let them infiltrate your city, your rituals, your families?"

"You don't understand what's at stake!" Elen'Var exploded, his silver aura intensifying, causing the nearby stones to tremble. "Order! Unity! The world only holds together because we keep the cracks closed. And you—you've torn them wide open with your own hands!"

Kael did not back down. Even wounded, even exhausted, his presence was unshakable.

"Then tell me: what good is it to protect an entire kingdom if its heart is already rotten? What good is it to maintain order if it protects monsters disguised as brothers?"

The two stared at each other like walls about to collide.

Exelia, still hidden, watched with her hand firmly on the hilt of her sword, ready to rise if the worst happened. Liora kept her eyes half-closed, studying Elen'Var's aura, looking for cracks, for indecision.

Silence returned, heavy as before—but now there was something else: uncertainty.

Elen'Var lowered his eyes for a brief moment, looking again at the corrupted body in front of him. The light of dawn touched his silver armor as if testing its shine.

"If this is true..." he said, in a lower tone, "then the corruption has already infiltrated deeper than we imagined."

Kael tossed the mana sword at the general's feet with a firm but not aggressive gesture. The blade stuck in the stone, still vibrating with lunar power.

"You must choose, Elen'Var. Either face the truth before you... or become another shadow trying to extinguish the light."

The general stared at the sword on the ground, then at Kael. His gaze was still hard—but the fury had given way to doubt. To reflection.

"What if you're lying?"

Kael simply replied:

"Then execute me. Here. Now. You know you can."

The air froze.

Neither party moved. Only the wind whispered through the ruins.

Finally, Elen'Var turned slowly, his eyes still heavy with tension. His tone, however, had changed—less accusatory, more calculated.

"I will investigate this. Personally. If the other bodies are like this one... then perhaps, perhaps, I will be willing to hear more."

He began to back away, but before leaving, he took one last look at Kael.

"But don't think this means forgiveness. Only... postponement."

And with that, Elen'Var disappeared into the shadows of the trees, taking his soldiers with him—and leaving behind something he rarely allowed others to see:

Doubt.

The sound of Elen'Var's boots and those of his soldiers faded away on the destroyed trail leading out of the ruins. A new silence hung over the temple—not the tense silence of war, but the remnant of something broken.

Exelia emerged from the shadows with slow, steady steps, her sword still in hand, though lowered. Her eyes were fixed on the crater where Kael stood, breathing heavily.

She looked in the direction Elen'Var had departed and then at Kael, frowning.

"What was that?" she asked, in a tone that was more incredulous than accusatory. "He was going to kill you. And then... he gave up?"

Kael stared into the void for a moment. His hand still trembled slightly from the effort. He turned slowly, his eyes worn but steady.

"There was a spell," he said simply. "Something subtle. Very old. Mind control, but... fragmented. Thought implants. Not total... but enough to distort perception. To foment hatred, mistrust. To direct anger."

Exelia frowned even more, surprised. "You broke the spell?"

Kael nodded, looking at the ground where the silver blade was stuck.

"I broke it when I threw the sword near him. I used it to make a brief connection with his surroundings." He took a deep breath. "Sometimes, all you have to do is show someone their reflection... for them to realize they're not seeing with their own eyes."

Liora limped out from behind a broken column. Her expression was alert, but also understanding. Her face was still pale, the healing runes on her neck glowing faintly.

"If he was bewitched like that..." she said slowly, as if piecing together her thoughts as she spoke, "...then so might the others. The advisors. The guardians. The inquisitors. Perhaps even the arcanists of the White Tower."

Kael stared at her for a moment, then nodded, his expression grave.

"Yes. It's not just physical corruption. They used ancient magic, woven beneath the skin of the structure. A web of poisoned ideas, spread among leaders and soldiers—all without their knowledge. And if Elen'Var, the most disciplined of generals, was affected..."

"...then the empire is a house of cards about to collapse," Exelia finished, her voice somber.

A heavy silence followed. Everyone knew what this meant. The war was not over—it had merely changed form.

Kael looked up at the sky. The dawn was spreading, but it brought no relief. Only enough light to reveal what was to come.

"Let's go back to the palace. Inform the Queen of the Elves about this," he said, turning toward the rubble. "Every body needs to be examined. Each one may hold a piece of the puzzle and lead us to find out who started all this."

Exelia watched him for a moment before sheathing her sword. "Do you think she'll believe us?"

Kael didn't answer right away. His gaze wandered over the broken stones, the twisted bodies of the cultists, the ashes and dried blood. Everything there seemed to whisper a forgotten story—or one that had been forcibly erased.

"I don't know," he replied, finally. "But she needs to hear it. Someone needs to break this cycle before it all repeats itself on a larger scale."

Liora approached. "She will listen, but I think her decision will be to try to reconcile the two sides again. Unfortunately, her character is too strong in unity. I don't see that anymore for the Elves. Perhaps an iron-fisted dictatorship is more likely to end this useless war."

Exelia looked at Liora and sighed, "I wish things were easier, but it seems we'll have to start being more strict with our decisions." They talked while Kael stared at the bodies.

"Ah... I just wanted to rest a little..." he muttered, bending down and touching the demonic power. However, he noticed something...

[You have learned about demonic power]

"I see... so if I..."

[You have absorbed demonic energy]

[Due to limited knowledge]

[Demonic energy expelled]

"Maybe I should ask that succubus about it..."