VOLUME 13: CHAPTER 18

The elves realized they were witnessing history before their very eyes.

Throughout the ages, the ability to polymorph was known to be the Dragon Race's exclusive spell.

"…They pulled it off?"

They never expected they would witness a Scylla undergo polymorph, moreover, in such a short period of time.

How did a creature with seven heads split its body into seven separate individuals?

"Elves."

There was a hint of irritation in the third head's voice. 

Dumbfounded by the revelation, the elves realized they hadn't answered the question yet.

"A-About that! O-Of course, you look more Majestic than—"

"—We abhor liars," said the third head.

At those words, the duo immediately shut their mouths.

The Scylla seemed to have realized the elves chose the answer that would please the creature the most. But choosing the easy route went against the Scylla's goal when it asked that question.

The third head continued, "I'm aware, my polymorph is far from perfect. That's why I wish to hear your honest, unhindered opinion."

The first head said indignantly, "What are you saying, brother! We're geniuses! How could we have imperfect shells!"

"That's right!" said the seventh head. "Look at this beard! Kakaka! Doesn't it remind you of that man who calls himself the Emperor? Hmm… or maybe it's a bit longer?"

"Kekeke. I don't know about you, but my beard looks smoother, no?" said the second head. "Just like how my scales is more lustrous than the others!"

"This deluded gecko! Everyone knows my scales are glossier than yours!"

"What did you say! Mine is shinier!"

"Haaah… ignore them," The third head sighed as he spoke to the elves. Behind him, the other heads continued with their squabble. "I will personally guarantee your safety. Now, speak to us truthfully. No reservations. How do we look compared to the Dragons?"

"A waste of time. Everyone, let's just meet God Evander right away!"

"That's right! Why should we ask the opinion of mere elves?"

Unable to take it any longer, the third head growled, "Quiet! I am trying to assess our polymorph here!"

After the other heads finally shut their mouths, the elves looked at each other. One of them cautiously said, "You won't… kill us?"

"I dislike repeating myself. As I've said before, I'll guarantee your safety. Now, tell us."

"Erm…" one of the elves said nervously. "Haha… honestly speaking, your bodies look kind of… odd? The gaps between the eyes are too long, the ears seem convoluted, and the skin looks… slimy? Not to mention the scales on your cheeks and arms…."

The third head asked the remaining elf, "And you? What do you think?"

"I, I agree with what he said. You look kinda small, too. The legs… T-They… they kind of remind me of t-the dwarves…."

"Huh?!"

"This bastard! What did you say!"

"Just because the eldest guaranteed your safety, you dare compare us to the ass-licking servants of those lizards!?"

"I've had enough of this!"

The elves shrieked when the other heads started walking closer to them.

"Hiieeekk!"

"We're sorry! P-Please spare us!"

Immediately, the elves knelt on the snow-covered ground.

Thankfully, the third head intervened before his kin ripped the elves into shreds.

The third head glared at them.

"If you're going to act this way, I'll cancel the polymorph spell," said the third head. "You've all gone too far! You dare try to kill the elves even after I guaranteed their safety?!"

"E-Eldest, that's not what we…."

"…Come on, it's not like we did anything."

"Hah, and now you're spouting lame excuses! Do you have no shame as a proud Scylla!"

"W-We're sorry, eldest!"

The threat was very effective. The other heads panicked and immediately tried placating the eldest.

As the first-born head, the third head had the most authority in utilizing their main body. It had the strongest connection to their heart and mana core, and although it wasn't as powerful in magic as the fourth head, who frequently slept all day, it had the greatest insight among all of them.

If the third head wished for it, reverting to their original body should be feasible even if the other heads opposed it.

After reprimanding the other heads, the third head turned his attention to the elves again.

"Elves," said the third head. "In other words, we look hideous, correct?"

The elves nodded reluctantly. "...You can say it that way."

It was a heart-wrenching answer. Their current appearance was quite important for them.

The third head sighed. "Polymorph isn't that easy, huh?"

For a full minute, all seven heads stood there, pondering. Although they were no longer directly connected to each other, they could somehow surmise what was going on in each other's minds.

"Everyone, what do you think? If we look hideous, we might as well revert to our original form," said the third head. "I don't want God Evander to see us in such a state."

The seventh head gnashed his teeth. "It's regrettable, but I agree with the eldest."

"Tch. No matter," spat the first head. "Even that stupid hatchling took a decade to learn this spell. It's already an accomplishment that we did it in mere days."

The elves clearly heard the disappointment in the Scylla's voices.

Now that they'd turned into humanoids, it was easier to read the Scylla's expression. They could see regret, uneasiness, and disappointment within those eyes.

Although the Scylla was something similar to the devil incarnate for the elves, for some strange reason, they felt an urge to help them right now.

Was it because they looked like a helpless old man currently? The elves didn't know.

"…Lord Blackie?"

"Speak."

"Have you heard of the saying that symmetry is beauty?"

To the elves, who were obsessed in nature, and beauty, this was a common saying. Aside from making sure their ears were as pointy and as clean as possible, they also made sure that everything in their bodies was symmetrical.

From their faces, to their clothes, even to the tip of their arrows. Everything must be perfect.

For them, there was beauty in harmony.

And there was even greater beauty in things in perfect symmetry.

"Symmetry is beauty," mumbled the third head.

It was the first time the Scylla heard of it.

The elves continued,

"We heard during our travel that the polymorph spell assumes the most basic form of the material shell of the caster. But since it's not the original body, altering it at will is possible. Well, that's according to the Dwarves, at least."

The first head said, "Hmm… Stop speaking in riddles. Get straight to the point."

"Well… what we're saying is it's possible for you to choose another appearance, Lord Blackie."

"Bah! Do you think we don't know that already!" said the fifth head.

The third head glared at the fifth head, and it immediately shut its mouth.

"We've lived for over a millennium," said the third head. "You're saying our default shells is an old man during polymorph due to this."

When Lark met Blackie, it was already nearing the end of its lifespan. If it hadn't met Lark during its life, on its last day, the Scylla would have used its remaining mana and life force to create a sturdy barrier to prevent intruders from reaching the deepest floor of the labyrinth.

The Scylla had vowed to protect the golden statue entrusted to it by the Dragon Devourer until its dying breath.

Fortunately, Lark entered the Forbidden Region, and the two of them met.

"Yes, Lord Blackie. That's correct," said one of the elves.

The other elf added, "But default doesn't mean permanent. Gender aside, it should be possible for you to appear younger once you learn to tweak your bodies."

The elves continued,

"And as we've said before, there is beauty in symmetry. If you wish for your polymorph to appear perfect, we suggest that you aim for a symmetrical body. Beauty is subjective, but everyone in this world can agree that things in perfect symmetry are attractive!"

The elves kept talking about symmetry this, symmetry that. But strangely, they sounded convincing right now.

"Ah, and longer legs, too! It wouldn't be any good if you started resembling those dwarves!"

After hearing the elves' opinions, the heads started talking among themselves. Although some of them didn't like the idea of considering the words of these monkeys, their desire to look perfect before God Evander forced them to swallow their pride and ask for the elves' input.

In the end, after much deliberation, they decided to go ahead with the elves' suggestions.

"You came here to ask for help with the barrier, correct?" said the third head.

The elves nodded.

"Yes, Lord Blackie. According to the shaman, the blizzard will only grow stronger from here! At this rate, the barriers our mages erected will no longer hold. If the barrier breaks, our soldiers will freeze to their deaths!"

"Then, let's do it this way," said the third head. "We'll reinforce your puny barriers."

The elves' expressions visibly brightened upon hearing this.

"But in exchange, help us achieve the perfect polymorphed state. This so-called symmetrical beauty you speak of, teach us."

It was something easy even for the elves to do. They readily complied with the Scylla's request.

"Of course, Lord Blackie!"

The fourth head yawned. "First, a barrier." It cast a simple mana barrier around them, preventing the blizzard from hitting their bodies.

"We'll start immediately. Look and assess carefully, elves. Our goal is a handsome, youthful body! A body more beautiful than those stupid Dragons! A body of indescribable majesty!"

Loud cracking sounds were heard as the third head started adjusting the bones, flesh, and scales on its body.

The first thing Blackie adjusted was the size of its legs. Unable to bear the shame of being compared to dwarves, they increased their legs' length by several inches.

This process was excruciating, but the third head endured it without complaints.

This much pain was nothing if it meant becoming beautiful before God Evander.

"We'll adjust our bodies until we achieve this symmetrical beauty you speak of. What do you think of our legs, elves?"

"…Ah, before that, are you able to make clothes, Lord Blackie? It's freezingly cold right now… and you're fully naked."

The polymorphed Scylla looked down, particularly at the thing hanging between their legs.

The elves didn't want to comment on it, but it was unnecessarily big for their standard. It reminded them of the one the war elks, which they used to roam the Endless Forest, had.

"We're naked, so what? Back when we were in our original state, no one commented on it, but now that we've polymorphed…."

The elves realized they needed to convince the Scylla to cover its body – for the sake of their eyes and the Scylla's dignity.

"Lord Blackie… there is this saying in the Elven Kingdom: Style is a way to say who you are without having to speak. Clothes make the man!"

"That's right, Lord Blackie! It's a way to invoke respect from those around you without doing anything!"

Hearing those words, the Scylla started to consider it.

Now that it thought of it, even those lizards made sure to create dazzling clothes whenever they polymorphed. They even made the effort to turn their claws into matching swords.

There was a vast discrepancy between the views of an elf and a Scylla. And between the two, an elf was the one closer to a mortal, specifically humans.

If they wished to impress God Evander, maybe listening to the fashion sense of the elves wouldn't be a bad idea.

"Adding clothes should be easy. Tell us. What kind of clothes should we create?" said Blackie.

The elves wordlessly congratulated each other for successfully convincing the Scylla.

"Uhm… first, why don't you cover your selves with something simple? What about… a pants and a tunic?"

"Very well."

The Scylla immediately altered its polymorph spell, creating pants and tunics to cover their bodies.

"Happy now, long ears?"

The elves grinned. The unnecessarily huge thing between the Scylla's legs had been bothering them for quite some time now. It honestly made them insecure, even if they didn't wish to admit it. They were really glad they could no longer see it.

"Next will be the eyes, Lord Blackie. You wish to impress King Lark, no? Then it wouldn't be good if your eyes are too far apart."

With the help of the elves, the Scylla started adjusting the position of its eyes.

It adjusted even the thickness of its eyebrows, and the length of its eyelashes.

"Perfect!"

"Your eyes look great, Lord Blackie! Those eyes! How tantalizing!"

Blackie never expected that getting praise from mere elves could make it this happy. No one had told it before that its eyes were tantalizing.

Normally, mortals would cower, flee, or faint the moment they locked eyes with Blackie.

Ah, how refreshing.

So, this was what polymorphing was like!

"Kakaka! The two of you are quite decent for mere long ears!"

"Once we get back, we'll exempt the two of you from our future Grand Road Widening Project!"

The elves shuddered when they heard this.

Crazy.

The road connecting Blackstone City and Aerith was already large enough, and this creature still wished to expand it?

Such plans wouldn't normally be a problem if the elves weren't being used like slaves to pave those pathways. But the two elves were aware that their kin were exploited in order to complete the so-called Grand Road. And to make things worse, the Scylla took all credit for its creation!

Thankfully, the Scylla was pleased with their help. Now, they no longer had to fear being forced into that slave work.

"T-Thank you for your benevolence, Lord Blackie."

"Kekeke. The two of you are good elves, so we'll make an exemption."

"I agree. Good elves, indeed."

"The other elves should follow these two. Those fools, they have no fashion sense at all!"

The sacrificial duo awkwardly coughed. "…Haha, is that so? Should we move to the nose next?"

"Go on, elves. Now that — hm?"

Blackie stopped midway through his speech upon sensing a familiar mana.

All seven heads looked toward the direction of the Coalition Army. They squinted.

"Lord… Lord Blackie?"

"God Evander has come. Come and meet us again, elves."

After uttering those words, all seven heads flew toward the direction of the Coalition Army's camp.

Using flight magic instead of their wings felt odd. Although they were wearing clothes, they felt naked right now.

"I feel so vulnerable."

"Damn polymorphed body."

"This is our maximum flight speed, huh?"

"Focus. I already miss him. We must meet God Evander."

"Yes, Eldest."

The Scylla flew through the blizzard. They yearningly looked forward to meeting Lark.

***

"King Lark, thank you once again for coming all the way here."

Commander Khuumal bowed as he uttered words of thanks to Lark.

The elven commander was grateful that Lark came all the way here to check on the camp's status. At the same time, he was ashamed that he couldn't do anything to fortify the barrier protecting their camp from the blizzard.

Although he was the strongest warrior of the Elven Kingdom, Commander Khuumal was no magician.

"This much is natural, Commander," said Lark.

Originally, Lark intended to check on Blackie first. But after arriving at the camp, he learned that Blackie had secluded itself nearby in order to focus on the polymorph spell.

Seeing the elven and dwarven mages struggling to protect their camp from the blizzard, Lark decided to help a little.

First, he decided to make the camp a bit warmer.

"Five should be enough," muttered Lark. "I can't remember the last time I used this spell."

Lark snapped his fingers, and five orbs of blue fire started forming above the Coalition Army.

Eight tier Spell: Illusory Ignis Fatuus

The orbs slowly expanded, until they reached thirty diameters each. Like miniature suns, they remained compact and unmoving despite the blizzard.

Since the camp of the Coalition Army was arranged in a square formation, Lark strategically positioned the orbs of fire at all corners, putting the remaining one at the middle.

The presence of the orbs was immediately felt.

"It's warm," said Commander Khuumal.

Strangely, despite its size, the heat coming from the spell wasn't scorching. Instead, it only felt warm.

The mages in the Coalition Army realized that waves of mana poured out of the orbs every now and then, covering the camp with much-needed warmth during winter.

It felt like they were standing a few feet in front of a hearth.

"Next, the barrier," said Lark.

"Wait, Your Majesty."

"Commander?"

Just when Lark was about to reinforce the barriers cast by the elven and dwarven mages, Commander Khuumal suddenly took out his bow and glared in a certain direction.

Commander Khuumal roared, "Coalition Army! Prepare for battle! We have intruders!"

The soldiers from the Coalition, who were still mesmerized by the ignis fatuus spell of Lark, snapped back into reality. They immediately took arms and prepared for battle.

Commander Khuumal nocked seven arrows on his bow. Quickly, he imbued mana into each of them.

Seeing this, Lark remembered Elias Farsight. He wondered how that archer was doing now.

Lark wondered: if the Commander and the royal court magician fought, who would win in battle?

"You dare intrude on this camp?" uttered Commander Khuumal, "not a chance!"

The Commander released his arrows, and sharp whizzing sounds were heard. Shortly after, the Commander's eyes widened.

"They deflected the arrows!"

Lark was also looking in the same direction as the Commander, but due to the blizzard, it took him some time to finally see the so-called intruders.

The moment Lark saw them, he immediately realized their identities.

Lark softly said, "Ah… that's…."

Seven old men landed before Lark. But before they could even take a step forward, they found themselves surrounded by three dwarves-driven power suits, over a dozen blackstone knights, and several dwarven warriors and elven archers.

The first head said angrily, "What's this? Have you gone insane?"

The seventh head snarled, "Dwarves, want me to rip those puny power suits into shreds?!"

"Elves!" said the fourth head. "Put down those damn bows before I snap them in half!"

The third head bared his fangs at Commander Khuumal. "Elven commander! How funny! You used to avoid our gaze before. You've become bold, huh!"

By now, the Commander, the elves, and the dwarves realized that something was wrong.

That manner of speech.

Those reptilian eyes.

Everyone who surrounded the seven old men felt chills crawl down their spines.

"L-Lord Blackie?" gasped Commander Khuumal. His previously fearless expression started to crumble. "Is… is that you?"

The elves and dwarves whispered.

"That's the Scylla?"

"It succeeded in polymorph?"

"But… how? It's so soon!"

"Hey. Aren't we… screwed?"

Mana and bloodlust started gushing out of the Scylla's polymorphed bodies.

They were a lot less than what their original body had, but it felt oppressive regardless.

Commander Khuumal, the dwarves, and the elves froze in fear. The Scylla was really pissed. They felt that they might really meet their end here.

Thankfully, Lark stepped forward before things escalated further.

"Blackie," said Lark. "It's you."

As though a lie, the bloodlust oozing out of the Scylla vanished in an instant.

To everyone's surprise, the faces of the seven old men contorted. Tears started forming at the corner of their eyes, and after staring at Lark for several seconds, they started bawling.

"Wuuaaah! God Evander!"

"Hic… Hic… We did it!"

"Finally!"

They ran toward Lark, jumped into his embrace, and cried their hearts out.

For a moment, it reminded Lark of Leanne.

"I always wanted to do this!"

"O-Oh! To think this day would come!"

"I'm hugging God Evander!"

"Ah, all the pain was worth it!"

"Huhuhu! I can die in peace now!"

Since they were a tad too many, the polymorphed bodies pulled out each other every now and then in order to get their turn to hug Lark. Some even resorted to punches and kicks in order to get their turn sooner.

Lark laughed. He hugged them tightly.

"You succeeded in polymorph. In the entire history of the Scylla Race, this must be the first time. How impressive, Blackie."

All seven heads foolishly grinned. They felt euphoric hearing the praise.

"Hehehe.…"

"It's only natural. We're unlike the other Scyllas, God Evander!"

"We're a genius! Kakaka!"

Lark smiled broadly. "Come here. Let me hug all of you more."

"Yes, God Evander!"

"Hey, it's my turn now!"

"What? It's been only five seconds!"

"Move!"

It was a heartwarming moment for Lark and Blackie. But to the rest of the Coalition Army, it was a peculiar sight.

After all, seven old men were currently fighting over who would be hugging King Lark.

Little did they know that this situation could have been worse if the 'sacrificial duo' did not convince the Scylla to wear clothes.