A mage? A spell engineer!

Chapter 316 Foreign Aid Makes its Debut

Meanwhile, the resistance movement on El Isle was raging but also on the verge of collapse.

This is not contradictory. First, news of victory spread throughout the island, from villages to cities, as if the kingdom had abandoned El Island overnight and handed it over to the Grey Elves.

However, they did not have a change of heart. The administrators and lobster soldiers withdrew to the port and set up defenses. All ports were completely blockaded by the royal fleet, and any grey elves that approached would be met with merciless attacks.

When the Grey Elves took over the warehouses, they discovered that the food had already been transported to the main island of Istani or other places. This meant that widespread famine would continue.

Even if the resistance could hold onto the fruits of victory, they would be so withered and bitter that they would not be enough for the island's inhabitants to survive the coming winter.

On the Istanky side's positions, sentries coldly surveyed the island from high ground, wearing warm fur coats and carrying muskets, silently waiting for the cold and hunger to defeat these rebellious slaves.

Sirsa was unaware of the above situation, but she was still very irritable these past two days.

Following the elders' instructions, the grey elf girl donned the meticulously prepared attire, complete with armor plates, lace, and a skirt. To the girl, the clothes were utterly bizarre—they offered no protection, only hindering her movement. Moreover, her combat skills were honed through hunting and assassination, requiring only agility and nimbleness.

Representatives from villages and towns near Belranst began to arrive in the city, and a visit to Sirsa was an essential part of the itinerary arranged for them by the Restoration Parliament.

As representatives, young and old alike, listened with hope and reverence to her (artistically embellished) story, Saoirse felt deeply uneasy. When these people asked her again, "Will we win?" "Can we get our food back from the kingdom?" Saoirse wanted to tell them that she was just as lost as they were.

She felt like she wasn't fighting right now.

After enduring for three days, Sirsa finally made up her mind to act. She stared at the crescent moon high in the sky, estimating it was already midnight. She changed into her familiar clothes, and compared to wearing the ridiculous "prop costume," Sirsa felt much better now.

Although she was reluctant to part with the delicious food she had enjoyed over the past few days, the desire to return to her team overwhelmed everything. Only when she was with her hometown people could she truly be herself.

*Plop.* The sound of her falling from the second floor was very soft. She was as agile as a cat, quickly dodging the dozing sentry.

"They're too lax," Sirssa thought, feeling that the current atmosphere was wrong, but what could she say when she was just a soldier? She could only thank the sentries for their carelessness, which made it easy for her to leave the big house and sneak back to her unit.

They've already moved away? Sirsya was startled; the camp was dark and empty. But soon, a series of soft footsteps approached. The girl pressed on, finding everyone lined up neatly, wearing dark green cloaks.

She thought for a moment, then pulled out a cloak from the pile of supplies and draped it over herself, blending perfectly into the group. She then joined a larger group, now numbering about three hundred.

Everyone remained silent as they walked into a deep forest near Berlanst. As the layers of branches and leaves parted, a rather large clearing suddenly appeared. Feldspar, covered by vegetation, marked a circular area with intricately patterned grooves.

Everything here was clearly illuminated by torches, and heavily armed soldiers guarded the area, with security even more stringent than that of the Grey Elf high command. When the cloaked troop arrived, the two sides exchanged a series of passwords before being allowed to pass.

These are relics of our ancestors! Even the elves, though merely farmers, are familiar with some totems and symbols. Istani wasn't ruthless enough, adopting a laissez-faire attitude towards the culture of the Grey Elves, allowing many historical memories to be preserved through customs, so that Sirsa and others can still know that the pillars were erected by their ancestors.

"The appointed time is approaching. Take a headcount." The commander in charge of the defense gave the order to the cloaked troops.

The team was divided into small groups based on villages. The village chief, who was usually the village chief, became the group leader. When he counted the group members, he found that there was one extra person.

The slightly short Sirsa pulled back a corner of her hood, startling the village chief, but he quickly reported that everything was normal.

"Sirsa! You shouldn't be here!" The village chief immediately lowered his voice and questioned Sirsa after returning to the group. The others also noticed. In fact, everyone was happy that Sirsa had returned to the group, so they consciously tightened their formation and surrounded her in the crowd.

"What is our mission?" Everything was shrouded in mystery, which filled Sirsa with curiosity and fighting spirit.

"We will use the magic of our ancestors to secretly infiltrate Storm City! We will be the dagger plunged into the enemy's heart! When we demonstrate the ability to threaten the capital, the kingdom will yield." The village chief repeated the words from the mobilization meeting, then expressed his concern: "Silsa, it's too dangerous for you to come with us. What if something happens..."

"Didn't we defeat the Burning Lion Knights together here? The elders gave me a foolish nickname: 'Victory Girl.' Let's assume they're right to let me join this operation and achieve victory together!"

While Sirsa and the village chief were whispering to each other, the leading commander poured the melted resin into the groove of the magic circle. Without igniting it, the resin spontaneously combusted, and a bright green flame erupted, creating a wall of fire inside the stone pillar.

The path to the Shadowlands, or more precisely, to the Holy Land of the Elves, has opened.

"No, I think the elders have their reasons." The village chief was still hesitating, but Sirsa had already rushed into the wall of fire, and he could only sigh and follow her in.

The flames weren't scorching; a warm sensation enveloped them as they passed through, but then the damp, chilly air of the shadowy ground embraced the cloaked soldiers. This was an abyss where reality and illusion met, a sacred elven land where the last hope had been placed. The colossal ancestral statues left everyone speechless with awe.

Instead of focusing on her useless ancestors, Sirsa felt her feet getting tangled in strange black grass, which she cut open with her knife.

The holy site was just a transit point. A giant statue's eyes emitted blue beams of light, guiding the group to the edge of the deep-sea area, where they passed through another stone gate.

What will Storm City be like? Will its buildings be taller and more numerous than Bellanst's? Will its streets be paved with gold and filled with the aroma of bread? After all, they took our wheat and stole so much wealth.

Sirsa gripped her dagger tightly, while the others nervously passed through the portal, ready to witness the splendor of the big city.

They arrived at a mountain of garbage, and it was a very lively one at that. A bunch of tiny people, about the same height as dwarves but even smaller, were singing and dancing, surrounding a dwarf who looked to be a real one.

"A warm welcome to the foreign legion of the Holy Rat Whisperer Kingdom!" a flashy mushroom-headed man shouted through a megaphone. The 301 cloaked warriors of the Grey Elves received a bewildered welcome from the Rat Whisperers.

(End of this chapter)