Allegiance of the dark elves

"The ethereal sword?!"

My gaze widened at the radiant sword that was giving off a familiar sensation while gripping the handle.

I couldn't believe what I felt.

In my first life there were three main weapons that changed the entire outlook of the great human-demon war.

The first of them was the bow of sacred diligence. It was a gold and green clad weapon that was over two meters in size. The bow rewarded hard training and determination with insane firepower capable of shredding a whole army within minutes.

The human who wielded this weapon was known as the greatest bowmaster and managed to destroy a part of the main demon army, killing thousands with a single arrow. If I hadn't stepped in, the casualties would've been far too disastrous to recover from.

The second weapon was the amulet of death whose wielder was another human. It was a weapon that had the ability to apply curses to all enemies on the battlefield and deadly poisons to kill them slowly. Because of this, the person who wielded this weapon got the title of "Whitherer".

To allies, this weapon would be a godsend, being able to fight weakened enemies meant a huge advantage for their side. But to enemies, this was the absolute worst. Needless to say, this weapon shredded through our valiant defenses.

But even those weapons pale in comparison to the third. By far the most exalted weapon that existed on the battlefield was the ethereal sword. Not even my trusty staff of the demon sage could compare to it.

Back then, it was a weapon wielded by one of the pillars and the leader of those that betrayed me, the "Magic sword king".

The ethereal sword is no doubt a strange weapon. Although it was called a sword, it was formless, capable of taking up any form according to the wielder's image. It could swap from a rope over ten meters in length to a huge shield capable of blocking several cannonballs in one instant and in the next could become a huge great sword that could cleave the land in half.

But of course the thing that defined it as superior to all other weapons was its destruction prowess.

Being capable of splitting mountains and halving rivers made it somewhat a natural disaster. Only that it was a natural disaster that was capable of striking back to back.

The abilities of the ethereal sword can be said to be akin to a layered legendary artifact of this world's standard, or maybe even a mythical grade artifact.

It was an absurdly powerful weapon capable of slicing through space and creating vacuums that could act as pocket dimensions to the wielder to phase in and out of.

Anyone who wielded this weapon could be said to be on par with a high 7th tier or 8th tier mage even if they just started out learning magic.

This weapon played a huge role in my untimely death by my assailants, and looking at it now I can't help but keep getting bad memories.

"Hah."

I breathed out a sigh of disappointment after trying to stop recalling my first death.

Continuing on, the ethereal sword also responds best to the wielder's mana. Right now it's glowing in a white color, which means it hasn't been conformed to any person's mana yet.

This is also the reason why I couldn't feel anything emanating from the sword at all. It was because it hadn't taken up any sort of mana and form of its own.

But that will soon change as I steadily let my demonic energy run through it.

The radiant white color slowly dims and takes up a new color, black.

A few moments pass and all the demonic energy has spread through every crevice of the weapon. During this time, I noticed something weird.

"Even though it looks and feels like an ethereal sword...why does it feel way weaker? It feels like a defect compared to the actual ethereal sword."

So I say as I stared at the now glowing black blade curiously.

At first I thought Bromka had made this. But after feeling more and more of it, it seems highly unlikely. It does not feel as polished as his other works.

Bromka was the master blacksmith of the demon academy, he commanded metal and fire like it was nothing and crafted swords in less than a minute.

All of his works could be said to be equivalent to other blacksmiths' masterpieces.

He was also the one who crafted the ethereal sword. I remember he took quite a long time to create that weapon. It was his longest work yet.

But this...

As someone who used a multitude of weapons crafted by Bromka back in my first life, I can instantly tell the difference. There isn't that distant feeling.

"The sword I'm holding doesn't feel like Bromka's work. So did he not reincarnate here? Then who..."

A few seconds pass as I fell into deep thought trying to sort out all the information I just received.

"Ah! Is it that guy?"

No no. It has to be him. I can't think of anyone else capable of crafting something like this.

Bromka's student and one of my best friends in my first life, Raoul. An 8th tier mage with absolutely zero talent for the hammer but wanted to be a blacksmith.

That guy always went around proclaiming himself to be a blacksmith even though his works were worse than a beginner. It wasn't until Bromka gave into his persuasion and taught him that his abilities actually started to show promise.

"But then again, anyone whom Bromka thought was bound to show promise."

I couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle when I said that.

In any case, Raoul actually managed to craft something similar to the original ethereal sword. Looks like his smithing abilities have grown tremendously.

So I guess the mysterious helper of the Parakirt tribe founder is Raoul huh. How surprising.

I wonder how he's doing. Oh wait since it's been about a thousand years would that guy still be alive?

If he's still alive he must've reached the archmage or even become a transcendent already. I really want to meet him to ask him how he got here.

But what about the prophecy? Did he know that I would arrive here? And if so, how? Did he have someone by his side with a thousand-year divination or something?

Hundreds of thoughts raced through my mind every second as I firmly held onto the sword. After a few seconds, I managed to calm myself.

"Well, those are thoughts for another time. For now, let's get you out of here."

[Woosh!]

One more gale blew when the sword exited its thousand-year position.

And then suddenly, everything went silent.

"Huh?"

"What the?"

I could year curious voices behind me.

I too looked around to gaze at the surroundings. All the violent winds seized to ceased to exist.

I looked down to glance at the sword in my hand. It was emanating demonic energy throughout.

Come to think of it, the reason why the dark elves haven't been able to pull this out was because of the demonic energy restriction.

Since the ethereal sword was crafted for demons and demons only, it makes sense they were not able to even get an inch out because of their lacking demonic energy.

Hmmmm...

Looking back on it, the only reason I didn't keep the ethereal sword to myself was because it didn't suit my style in my first life.

But since I'm using swords and close combat arts now...

"Will this be my new weapon?"

I gave the sword a curious look upon delivering my sentence.

"Sir Rolan are you all right?!"

I turned around to see an anxious Licuz rushing towards me with five others behind him.

"My lord."

Zalfious and Jargon bowed in unison.

"Are you fine, brother?"

Says Blade while glaring at the sword in my hands.

"This is?!"

All the present dark elves' jaw drops as their gaze made its way down to my right hand.

"Yea, it's that sword."

So I say while proudly lifting my arm to show off the weapon. Now that I look at it, it does have a good shine.

"Hmm?"

While admiring the weapon once more, I glanced at the dark elves to see them all in a half-kneeling position, prostrating themselves in submission towards me.

"Sir Rolan, as the current chief of the Parakirt tribe and leader of the dark elves that dwell within Eastern Etelia, I, Licuz Parakirt recognise you as our new lord."

Licuz spoke in a reverent voice as everyone else in the room remained silent.

"As you have released the shackles of my people, the Parakirt tribe will serve you until the end."

Hoh?

"Rise, my subjects."

I extended a hand to Licuz who was directly in front of me and he graciously accepts.

"From now on we shall refer to sir Rolan as lord. Will that be fine?"

Asks Licuz in a reverent voice.

"Do as you wish."

I answered quickly as if dismissing the current topic.

I glanced into the eyes of the other dark elves present. Licuz, Lyndis, Zonn and Kera all had the same reverential and respectful look as the demons back in the demon realm.

At the corner of my eye, I could see Zalfious and Jargon make a satisfied face as they stared at the dark elves as if acclaiming them for submitting themselves to me.

"Oh right, sorry about this huge room."

I looked over at the destruction caused by the wind blades earlier.

"It's of no matter my lord. This place was meant to house the sword anyway, now that it is gone, this place holds no significant value."

Licuz hurriedly responds while bowing.

"So what happens now?"

I asked after Licuz lifted his head.

"We will return to the tribe to formally declare our allegiance to you, from there, you may use us however you see fit, my lord."

I nodded in silence and just then, a subtle sound could be heard.

[Crack!]

Everyone looked up to stare at the crumbling ceiling with cracks forming. It seems the damage from earlier was enough to cause this place to collapse.

"This place will come crumbling down soon, we better leave before that."

Several nods later, we all dashed out from the huge room and the secret tunnel. And very soon, we returned.