From the moment I was chosen by the holy relic

It was the end of a broken street, where animal bones and ashes lay scattered haphazardly on the faded blue bricks, the embers of war still lingering. The night wind, carrying scorched earth and the remnants of magic, swept across their cloaks, shoulder guards, and sword blades. After running for several dozen steps, they finally stepped across the blasted crack in the irrigation ditch, and only when there was no longer any sound of pursuers behind them did they stop.

Eric gently set the elven warrior down from his back; the armor on his shoulders was stained black with blood and charcoal ash. He let out a long breath, his head remaining lowered, his left hand still gripping the sword hilt, as if he were still facing an enemy.

Leah quickly caught up, panting heavily, but her eyes remained clear and undisturbed. She glanced at the deserted night road behind her and said in a low voice, "She didn't chase after us."

Upon hearing this, Elotian's eyes narrowed slightly: "How could they let us go so easily? Unless..."

"Unless she's injured," Leah interjected, speaking in a low voice. "Eric did indeed strike her left shoulder with that sword strike just now; the magic array was shattered. Her magic core should have developed a crack."

Eric was slashing his sword, severing the spine of a berserk beast on the ruins ahead, when he didn't turn around. He simply replied coldly, "That's excellent."

Elotian's quiver was empty, with only half a tattered fletching remaining. She stepped forward and asked, "Then where do we run to?"

Eric finally looked up, his gaze still firm, staring at the distant southern night sky: "Let's head south and find our companion, Eileen."

He paused, his voice as steady as a low hum echoing from a mountain rock, "She is a powerful mage, even more intelligent. If she is here, she is our hope."

Leah nodded silently, a hint of tenderness flashing in her eyes for a moment. "She's alive. She's still waiting for you."

As she spoke, she quietly walked to the side of the unconscious elven warrior, and pressed her finger several times between his chest and forehead. Silver light wrapped around her fingertips like silk threads. She softly chanted, "Your breath, return to stillness; your blood, return to its rhythm."

As Elotian watched her cast her spell, she whispered to Eric, "The people around you are all extraordinary."

Eric shook his head, his eyes gentle yet firm. "They are the reason I've come this far."

Isel flipped through the map scroll, her hair still damp with blood: "There is an old trade route in the south that passes through Balxi Village. If she didn't specify the location, it's highly likely she chose to hide in that remote area."

Elotian nodded: "Okay, let's go first and then talk about it."

No sooner had the words been spoken than a low murmur came from the distant night sky. Several black-winged demonic shadows, having lost their target, hovered in the air before suddenly disintegrating on their own, turning into black powder that scattered in the air.

"The destruction of the magic cores has begun to affect the whole situation," Lia said softly. "They are no longer under control, and thus have lost the power to sustain their own existence."

Eric raised his sword; the bloodstains on it had been cleansed by magic, and its sharpness remained. He looked south; the night fog had not yet dissipated, but he already had a clear direction in his mind.

"Let's go."

They set off again.

The wind blew from the ruins, carrying the smell of decay and blood, but the stars also peeked out from behind the clouds, sprinkling their hair on their shoulders, armor, and bowstrings.

The group continued along the abandoned path amidst the rubble. The night was deep, with only the distant starlight, like silver dust, illuminating their way. Eric walked at the head of the group, his cloak billowing in the night wind, fluttering lightly among the rubble and broken bones, the occasional soft clatter of his boots against cracked wood audible.

Behind them, Lia led the elven warrior who had just awakened. His face was still as pale as snow, and the effects of the poisonous miasma had not completely dissipated. He could only lean weakly on her shoulder, but his mind had returned. Issel glanced back every now and then to confirm that he was alright.

Elotian walked beside Eric, silent for a long time, his longbow slung across his shoulder, his right hand still clutching a broken arrow, only the arrowhead remaining, the fletching gone. A weary but quiet harmony settled between the four of them, as if in this desolate city's ruins, only they, the few travelers, remained unswallowed by the darkness.

Suddenly, Eric spoke, his tone not sharp, but carrying a frank question and concern: "Elotian, why don't you return to the forest and request reinforcements?"

He glanced at the other person and added, "This journey south to find Eileen is completely unnecessary for you. You've never even met her."

Elotian didn't answer immediately. He took a few steps, then smiled faintly and said:

"Because in our forest elf tradition, going back to get help is an extremely shameful thing."

Eric raised an eyebrow: "But aren't we looking for help right now?"

Elotian glanced at him, her tone unhurried:

"That's different. Eileen isn't a forest elf, so that doesn't count."

As soon as he finished speaking, Lia chuckled softly behind him. The laughter was not loud, but it was as clear and crisp as the ripples of a stream just beginning to melt, and it seemed exceptionally bright in this devastated and ruined city.

Eric shook his head helplessly, a slight smile creeping onto his lips.

"Really... your sense of face is rather strange."

"Honor," Elotian said softly, her expression calm but her eyes resolute. "We call it the dignity of the leaf. In our culture, if the children of the forest are defeated in public, they must heal their wounds themselves. If you return, it means you have placed your defeat on the altar for your people to witness. That is a disgrace that cannot be celebrated."

Eric didn't reply immediately. He looked at the rubble at his feet and suddenly remembered the knightly oath in his clan's ancient mountain city, and also a saying his master had once said: "A true strongman is not one who always wins, but one who can endure defeat."

But he didn't say it.

After walking a few steps, he muttered to himself, "This culture does sound a bit tiring."

Elotian didn't deny it, only saying, "That's why I choose not to go back. That doesn't mean I'm unwilling to fight back, but... I will take back Diarant without yielding."

His tone grew colder, like an iron blade whistling in the night wind, "We forest elves have never suffered such a great loss."

Eric stopped, turned around, and lightly tapped the ground with the hilt of his sword.

"You won't be the only one," he said. "As long as we find Eileen, with her there, nothing will be a problem."

Elotian paused slightly, her gaze piercing through the night as she looked at Eric.

He hesitated for a moment before asking, "If this Eileen you speak of is so powerful, why doesn't she come to your aid? Why is she hiding in some small village in the south?"

Eric was about to answer immediately, but then he suddenly paused, his lips twitching slightly. He scratched the dried blood on the back of his head and replied with a strange expression, "I don't know either. You can ask her yourself when you see her."

Leah chuckled softly from the side: "To put it nicely, she's waiting and seeing; to put it bluntly, she's afraid of causing trouble for others."

Eric turned to look at her: "Don't talk nonsense, she just..."

Leah shrugged and smiled without saying a word.

The young elven warrior she was supporting spoke softly, his voice weak but earnest: "If she is truly as you say, then perhaps she will be our new hope."

"She is," Eric answered crisply and firmly. "You'll see."

They continued on their way through the gravel. The southern night sky remained dark, with occasional glimpses of fighting still burning in the distance. But compared to the raging flames of a few hours earlier, the night was now much quieter.