THE LAST ELF

"All hail the King!" Kron bowed as low as he could—almost prostrating himself—while fixing his eyes on the ground.

His head felt like it had been hit by a rock, painful and dizzy, but also happy. Somehow, what was clear now was that Lord Aaron had appeared before them, whether it was his true form or a lost spirit.

The person who was now standing confused in front of Kron was a man with white long hair. Her skin was smooth, but as pale as the moon. When you look ahead, you will see a very beautiful appearance. The aristocratic look–dazzling blue irises, charming round eyes, perfectly straight nosebones–was just like Lord Aaron. However, this one has pointed ears. Something that distinguished him 180 degrees from the Lord.

"S-sorry, it seems you misunderstood." The man quickly pulled back his feet. "I'm not Lord Aaron."

"Forgive me, O Lord! You may be offended by our bad welcome. But, really, my respect has never changed to the point of hatred." Kron is getting low. His forehead touched the ground.

"I'm not the Lord you speak of, really. My name is Grover, an elf." The man officially introduced himself as an elf, creature that was supposedly born from the womb of holy light.

"Elf!?" Kron immediately got up. "Elf, you say?" He grabbed Grover's shoulder.

"The last elf of the eastern Fos temple." Grover took his eyes off Kron. "The only light guard left."

"You look very much like Lord Aaron," commented Kron as he looked at the elf's appearance.

"A lot of people have said that," Grover responded.

"Kron! Revan's body is getting colder!" shouted Rio who was increasingly worried about his friend.

"Oh, no! I have to find some medicine as soon as possible." Kron was about to leave.

"I can treat it," Grover said. "I'm a healing magic user."

"If you like, we will be very pleased." Kron welcomes.

Revan was transported from Frig's body, then laid to the ground. The man's skin was already very pale, too much blood had escaped from his body. At that time, his consciousness only stayed in line. The net is blurry, almost black. Luckily Grover arrived at just the right time.

The elf recited incantations in the sacred language, the language revealed directly by the nature, firmly embedded in the nerves of the brains of the children of light. Grover's five fingers began to glow, getting brighter by the second. Revan's wound was wrapped in a majestic light. An ancient elves' method of treatment that was extremely efficacious and miraculous.

"When light is born, darkness will disappear by itself. In the name of the guardians of light, I command dark magic to leave this body." In a moment of the sentence just now, the torn wounds on Revan's body instantly reconnected. The skin is intact, the blood is dry. The man started to open his eyes.

"Revan!" Rio immediately hugged his best friend.

"Rio!" The king's personal aide returned the hug just as warmly. "I'm glad you're okay."

"So do I."

"I'm afraid I can't repay your kindness, O last elf," said Kron. "This is too big to be called a favor."

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad I could help other people." Grover smiled lightly, dressed in a pale white satin—the pride of the elven nobility.

"Is this what I thought?" Revan glared at Grover. "Lord Aaron, is that you?"

"He's an elf with the face of Lord Aaron, actually," Kron said. "Don't bow down like I did before, Julius."

"How could it be?" Revan was getting curious.

"I don't know. I was born this way," Grover replied.

"What brings an elf into the forest of Nyx? The last elf, I mean." Kron said.

"Elves devourer." Short, but Grover's answer could make Kron and Revan's eyes widen.

"Elves devourer?" Revan repeated.

"They attacked our home. All the elves died, except for me."

"This elves devourer, Grover, how did he find your home? Ah, sorry for asking so many questions, because as far as I know elves like to occult their homes." Kron raised an eyebrow curiously.

"I don't know." Grover looked down. "Not yet, I guess."

"Oh, I see. Then, what are you going to do now?" continued Kron.

"Going to my foster uncle. His residence is in the heart of the Nekros forest."

"Foster uncle, huh?" Kron's eyes narrowed.

"He's a gnome," Grover said.

"Oh, gnome. I thought there was another elf."

"I must go, sorry." Grover gave a faint smile as he adjusted his sling bag woven from leaves.

"I promise to repay you on another day, O last elf." Kron replied.

"Me too. If we meet again, I'll make sure you'll be helped." Revan added.

"Okay. See you later." Grover turned, about to continue on his way. However, the elf stopped when the corner of his eye was hit by a glint of holy armor. "You have Kholoros?" he asked then.

Kron gave a curt nod, not wanting to prolong the discussion of their secret plan. He was indeed indebted to Grover, but paying it stupidly would sound like an exaggeration. Debt remains debt, and secret remains secret. Let's take the middle ground of mediocrity, like a friendly smile or a light nod like Kron just did.

"May I take a closer look?" Grover's gaze hinted at a desperate plea.

Rio suddenly glanced at Kron and Revan. He clearly didn't want to make the wrong move as he did when he offered his two friends to help Bayrak slaughter Fenrir. Although that one mistake had a sweet ending too—it seemed.

"Of course." Revan gave his approval. "Rio." He invited Rio to bring Kholoros to Grover.

"This is the first time I've seen Lord Voliborn's masterpiece directly. There are so many poems and verses that tell how beautiful the green armor is. They're not lying, this armor is as beautiful as the emerald moon on the Lord's birthday." To his amazement, Grover's hand unknowingly touched the surface of Kholoros. In that instant a white glow spread throughout the forest.

Kron, Revan, Rio, even Grover himself had to close their eyes when the light came. The sky was still pitch black, but the Nyx forest that day shone like an eternal source of light. All creatures of darkness are extinct, including the imps who are still in battle with the goblins. They were all dazed, unable to see how glorious the light was.

The majestic sheen of Kholoros lasted for a minute. For a moment the light dimmed, then they were able to open their eyes again. Revan looked straight at Grover, his gaze wide and focused. A flash of speculation flashed through his mind.

"What was that?" Rio said. "The light is very bright."

"By the Lords who rule this land justly, let me ask you, O last elf." Raven approached him.

"I don't know anything about this, believe me." Grover tried to defend himself.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," he answered, as if checking Revan's preconceived notions. There is no longer any cons that refute his theory.

"Kron, it seems our king isn't the only one." The man in the bow tie turned his head to tell the giant who was still dumbfounded until now.

"Two kings?" Kron tried to confirm, though his body was shaking in disbelief.

"Not just two. We will have four kings," said Revan. "If my assumption is correct, then Lord Aaron's soul should be split into four according to the number of wizards who did the dianom that day."

"F-four!?" Kron fell to the ground. "Just kill me. This is too unbelievable."

"Our energy doesn't seem to be enough to completely reincarnate his soul. In that case, it means that every wizard is connected to one soul shard. I am a wizard connected to the heart of the King. That's why when I went to the non-magical world, I immediately appeared at Rio's place."

"Where are the remaining three wizards?" Rio chimed in with a question.

"Dead, killed. Now that's the worst news," said Revan.

"I-I think it's just a misunderstanding," Grover retorted. "Coincidence can come at any time, right?"

"No, Grover." Revan denied. "I believe this more than any fact I have ever heard in my life. O last elf, you are the physical heir of the King. Lord Aaron's physique."

As the newcomer to meeting the armor-hunting group for no more than thirty minutes, Grover certainly didn't know the crux of their argument. Therefore, Revan and the others agreed to reveal all their plans. Revan explained about their purpose to defeat Tarnath, about The Eight, about the meeting with the goblins, the fierce battle, until the imp attack that dragged them to where they are now.

"You guys intend to gather The Eight? What sane person would do that?" Grover spontaneously hesitated.

"You could say we're a bunch of crazy people chased by crazy fantasies. But what else can fight madness other than madness itself?" Revan knotted lightly.

"I'm not denying that," Grover commented. "You have a strong motive."

"What are you going to do when you get to your foster uncle Grover?" Lord Aaron's aide looked further.

"I have something to tell him. After that, I don't know. I lost my way."

"Why not just come with our crazy group?" Revan suggested.

"That's a great idea. New members mean new fun," added Rio enthusiastically.

"Who knows." Grover was still undecided. "Gathering The Eight still sounds impossible to me."

"You know what, Grover?" Kron suddenly spoke. "A few days ago I thought so too. I almost gave up and left this journey. However, some people turned out to be persistent enough to keep holding my hand. They didn't let go, never. Here I am, there and back again."

"This giant meant, Grover, he wanted to say that nothing is impossible in this world as long as you still have the will to make it happen." Revan simplified it.

"I've got nothing," Grover said. "And I don't think I have anything to lose now."

"So?" Revan waits.

"Is there a way to be insane like you guys?" Grover said, eliciting laughter from Revan and the others.

"You are accepted into this group. Grover, last elf, physical heir of the Lord, allow me to congratulate you as aide to the kings of Nefertyland." Revan shook the elf's hand.

"It's an honor to know you."

"My name is Rio. Nice to meet you." Rio also greeted his new partner.

"I am Kron son of Vron, a special sculptor for the kings of Nefertyland." Kron's tenuous teeth were visible as his lips curved so wide.

Important meetings sometimes do happen at the most unexpected times. Grover, the last elf escapes from the destroyed eastern Fos temple and ends up joining a group of armor hunters. He who was asked to be Lord Aaron's physical heir had little choice but to accept the offer regarding The Eighth. After visiting his foster uncle's residence, he promised to escort the group's hunt until one day they could sit happily on the thrones.

(To be continued)