Chapter 69: The Principled Dark Elf Assassin
Magical daggers were far sharper than ordinary steel daggers, requiring no sharpening. Moreover, the magical energy infused within them inflicted secondary damage, breaking down the flesh around the wound.
A stab to the heart with a magical dagger was essentially a death sentence, especially in this secluded area where the body wouldn’t be discovered for several minutes.
The woman behind Helen yanked the dagger out, flicking her wrist, and the magical blade vanished into thin air. She wore a tight-fitting ochre-red cloth armor and a matching cloak—a popular color in Golden Griffin City, where most houses had ochre-red roof tiles. Her hands were covered in leather gloves, and her boots, made from the supple and sound-dampening hide of an ogre, were silent on the cobblestones. Only half her face was visible, a mask embroidered with a spider pattern covering the lower half.
She was taller than the average woman, her exposed skin a dark purple. Her bright violet eyes gleamed beneath the cloak, and her long, pointed ears protruded from a specially designed opening in the hood. All these features marked her as a dark elf.
The female dark elf kicked Helen’s back, sending her collapsing to the ground. She sighed in relief.
“I thought assassinating a princess would be a grand affair. It seems I won’t be getting a bonus for this,” she muttered to herself in Elven, her voice laced with annoyance. “So the princess that those nobles hate so much is such a naive fool. Hmph, what a bunch of incompetent buffoons, wasting my talents.”
Her eyes held a deep disdain for the nobles who had hired her.
“I agree with you. Many nobles are indeed incompetent buffoons,” the “Helen” lying on the ground suddenly said in fluent Elven.
“Of course… Huh?”
The female dark elf was startled by Helen’s sudden speech. She leaped back, instantly vanishing into the shadows beneath the eaves.
The “Helen” she had just stabbed in the heart slowly got up.
“No need to hide. From the moment you touched me, you were no longer in your original world.”
The fake Helen tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze fixed on the shadows beneath the eaves. Her eyes weren’t their usual blue, nor the emerald green they turned after consuming the potion, but a turquoise shade, both eerie and beautiful. She spoke in fluent Elven to the seemingly empty space, her face devoid of fear.
“You’re not Princess Helen.”
Silence stretched for a long moment before a pair of eyes reappeared in the shadows. The assassin had clearly failed to contact her organization.
“You’re right. I’m not Princess Helen.”
The imposter Helen wagged a finger in the air, and her body began to transform rapidly, growing taller, until she became a slender young man with ash-grey hair.
It was Abyss, of course. The real Princess Helen was safely inside the tavern, protected by Leona and Flora. Abyss had decided to take the blow for her.
Necromancers were still flesh and blood. A stab to the heart would render them unconscious and kill them within minutes. But Abyss wasn’t an ordinary necromancer—his body had been enhanced by Leona’s power, his strength and vitality multiplied severalfold. Even with a pierced heart, he could survive for hours, more than enough time to heal himself countless times with magic or Divine Arts.
He had deliberately avoided using any flashy magic to dodge the dark elf assassin’s attack, wanting to test the limits of his enhanced vitality.
The result was satisfying—he was now as tough as half a healthy two-headed ogre.
“You’re from the Shadow Sisterhood? I’ve heard much about your organization. Your skills are indeed impressive,” Abyss said. He wanted to applaud the dark elf, but that seemed too villainous, not fitting his current stance. He settled for a slight bow. “If I were an ordinary person, I would have died by your hand.”
Confusion flickered in the dark elf assassin’s eyes. The shadows beneath the eaves rippled, and she stepped out.
Impressive Shadow magic. Abyss immediately recognized the school of magic. Few mages on the continent practiced this obscure art, which focused on concealment, typically used by assassins and thieves.
Dark elf society was strictly matriarchal. Female dark elves, dominant in their society, were taller, stronger, and more intelligent than their male counterparts. This assassin was no exception. Even in flat boots, she was a few centimeters taller than Abyss. Her eyes held a mix of pride and wariness as she maintained her distance, circling him slowly. She held a magically materialized dagger in one hand and a short-range escape spell ready in the other. Having sensed Abyss’s power, she wasn’t planning a direct confrontation.
“You can’t leave until I allow it, so I’d like you to answer a few questions,” Abyss said calmly, folding his arms and looking at the dark elf. “You’ve tried to contact your organization with magic, haven’t you? And failed? That’s because you’re currently within my domain.”
“What do you want?” the female dark elf asked. Her Common Tongue was heavily accented, but the fact that she used it at all indicated her willingness to negotiate. “I’m just following orders. The Sisterhood received a request from Golden Griffin City, and I’m here to carry it out. That’s all.”
“You know who your employer is, right?” Abyss asked with a smile, his teeth gleaming. “You revealed it when you were talking to yourself after striking me down. Tell me his or their names, and I’ll let you leave.”
“Hmph, no way,” the dark elf shook her head. “Client information is the Sisterhood’s top secret. I can’t just tell you that.”
“I wouldn’t expect such words from a dark elf, a race that prides itself on betrayal,” Abyss said, tilting his head.
“Tsk, you’re quite knowledgeable, handsome,” the dark elf said, her eyes narrowing slightly. “If you want me to tell you… It’ll cost you extra.”
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