To be honest, Think wanted nothing more than to unleash her magic.
But for now, she forced herself to remain rational. Her twisted gaze locked onto the man before her as she restrained her urge.
Such crude provocation—no, such blatant provocation—was irritating beyond measure. But if she rose to the bait, she would only lower herself to his level.
"Let's stop with the tiresome provocations, Mister 'Human.'" A kind smile bloomed on Think's face, completely at odds with the cold light in her eyes.
Outwardly, she seemed affable.
In truth, the chill she gave off was sharper than any blade.
"What? No temper? How boring. I thought you'd snap. Instead, you hide your claws. No wonder—you're the one who faked her death and shoved a substitute onto the stage." Arthur shook his head in mock regret, though inwardly he ranked her far higher than before.
Twenty-four years ago, the Flügel had obliterated the elves' old capital with a single blow. It was not an incident the elves could simply brush aside. It was a permanent scar, an indelible shame seared into their history.
Worse still, that calamity had left the elves the butt of every race's ridicule.
Any ordinary elf, if confronted with such words, would lose all reason and fight to the death.
But Think endured.
No—such composure was precisely what one would expect from the true Flower Crown Lord.
"You won't act rashly, then? Very well. I'll reward you with some information. Your enemies, the Dwarves, had their weapons depot raided not long ago. Among their arsenal was a certain weapon—[Marrow Explosion]."
As he spoke, Arthur tossed her a document stuffed with intelligence reports, its contents a veritable treasure trove of military secrets.
"So that's how it is. The self-proclaimed 'humans' who meddle in the affairs of every race… that would be you. Aren't you afraid I'll turn this over to the Dwarves? By rights, the elves are victims. Their attack was utterly unprovoked." Think's voice was light, almost casual.
"By all means, try. See if your mortal enemies believe you." Arthur's smile was all mockery.
Empty words. She knew as much.
Taking the document, she set the banter aside and focused on its contents.
The deeper she read, the more her face tightened. At last, her eyes widened, and a sharp breath escaped her. "The Dwarves are insane. They actually mean to detonate the dormant essence of an Old Deus—!"
Her astonishment was only natural.
If the Dwarves succeeded, [Marrow Explosion] would truly become a god-slaying weapon.
Even the concept itself reeked of madness.
"Oh? That's your reaction?" Arthur leaned forward, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Upon learning your enemies have developed a weapon of this scale, you sigh at their insanity, but feel no real sense of crisis. Or perhaps you do feel anxious? Tell me—how does it feel to be overtaken by the Dwarves? If I hadn't handed you this information, you'd be stumbling into disaster after disaster."
His laughter snapped Think back to herself.
Yes. The Dwarves were troublesome. But before her stood an enemy far more dangerous.
From the instant Arthur appeared, everything about him—his words, his tone, his very presence—reeked of malice.
Absolute malice toward the elves.
The only reason Think had not yet acted was fear: fear that he might be of a superior race, fear that his intelligence on the Dwarves could mask deeper traps against her people.
Until she fully grasped his thinking, until she mapped out every contingency, she would not act rashly.
"…All the more reason I want to know. Who are you?"
"I already told you—I am human. Even if I repeat it, you won't believe me. So why not see for yourself?"
"…You don't sound like you're bluffing."
"I'm not." Arthur's expression didn't waver.
The next moment, Think raised her hand. Water rippled across the floor, coalescing into enormous lily petals. They unfolded in a circle around Arthur, then clamped shut, sealing him in a cage of living magic.
[First Protection of One Movement]
"No matter how smooth your words, Mister 'Human,' your end goal is the same: to use me, or to forge some kind of alliance. But without equality, everything you say is nothing more than empty air." Her lips curled into a mad grin.
After all, in this era, no race could be called 'normal.'
Only madmen survived in a mad age.
And Think was far from finished.
"You're finally willing to act, then?" Arthur chuckled. "Starting with a spell of this caliber—impressive. Even in elven theory, it's considered an ace technique. One that shouldn't even be possible for a single caster. Unless, of course, it was prepared in advance. A trap, then."
"Call me what you will. But you understand perfectly well, Mister 'Human.'"
"And yet, what's the point? In the end, you still hesitate. You dare not strike. You're afraid I may be of a superior race, capable of annihilating you with a single blow. Prudence is wise… but hesitation betrays you." Arthur sighed faintly.
Now was the time. The best chance to break her mask and force her hand.
Foreign races could surrender, yes. But they would never reveal their true hand willingly.
There was only one way to make them yield.
"I'll say this only once."
Arthur pulled back his hood, his voice calm, his expression serene.
"Use me, elf."
"—!"
The world shifted.
That face—utterly inhuman in its perfection.
Extraordinarily beautiful, almost painfully so.
To fall in love at first sight was not natural. To feel one's mind assaulted by charm was inevitable. Rational thought screamed that this was interference, an attack on her will.
But reason meant nothing.
Her heart was already stolen.
Resistance was instinctive, subconscious—but powerless.
To witness such pure beauty was to fall, hopelessly and completely.
Yes. Charm.
The most direct, efficient, and devastating weapon imaginable.
Arthur had never once used this ability on Riku or other humans. Out of respect. Out of empathy.
But elves were not human. Elves looked down on humans.
And to them, he owed nothing.
Yet the next moment, something happened Arthur had not expected.
-End Chapter-
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