Demon King After the End-Chapter 18: Dark Elves’ Past

The desert heat continued to beat down on them, their boots crunching over the cracked, yellow earth. For a while, neither said anything. Then Leon spoke, his tone more thoughtful this time.

"Elvera, there's something I've been curious about. You're an elf—creatures born of nature, right? Loved by the forests and spirits. So why... why live here? In a land where nature is dead?"

Elvera's steps slowed just slightly. Her smile faded. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before sighing.

"...Seems Gorran was right about you," she muttered.

Leon frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you don't know how the world really works," she said bluntly.

He stiffened. "Then tell me. I want to understand."

She was quiet for a few seconds before nodding. "Alright. We've got distance to cover. I'll talk."

Her voice was calm, but there was something brittle in it. "To humans, we dark elves aren't even considered people. We're luxury items. Status symbols for nobles who want something exotic in their bed chambers. Our race is hunted, captured, and sold. Like rare animals."

Leon clenched his fists at his sides. "But... what about regular elves? The ones from Elyndor? They seem to be doing fine. They have their own kingdom, right?"

Elvera gave a bitter chuckle, void of humor. "That's the difference. High elves use light mana. They're beautiful, pure, radiant. They fit the human narrative of 'noble beings.' But us?" Her voice darkened. "We're born from the Tree of Death. We channel shadow and decay. That was enough for humans to label us evil."

She looked ahead, eyes narrowing at something invisible in the distance. "They attacked our homeland in the name of righteousness. Said we spread plague and ruin. That we worshipped death. They burned our forests, chopped down our mother—the Tree of Death—and took our people in chains."

Her voice cracked. "I was the last queen of the dark elves. I escaped with what few I could save. We searched for refuge, but no one would take us. No kingdom. No race. No sanctuary."

Leon's gaze softened. "Except the demons."

She nodded. "Your grandfather, the previous Demon King, opened his gates to us. He gave us food. Shelter. Dignity. That day, I swore my loyalty to the Demon Throne. My people fought for the demon army, believing we'd finally found a place where we belonged. But the kingdom fell. And now, most of us are dead or scattered."

A silence fell between them again. Elvera's shoulders were tense, her voice flat now.

"That's why I'm here. Not for glory. Not for power. I follow the Demon King because it's all I have left."

Leon took a slow breath, the weight of her story settling on his shoulders.

"...I see," Leon said softly. "Everyone here's been through hell."

Elvera didn't reply. For once, her sharp tongue was silent. Her expression wasn't cold anymore—just... tired.

Leon walked a few more paces, then stopped atop a cracked ridge of dry soil. All around them stretched lifeless land, bleached by sun and time.

"Say, Elvera," he began, glancing sideways at her. "What if... a new Tree of Death appeared here? What then? Could your people return? Could this wasteland become a home again?"

She froze.

Her gaze sharpened like a blade. "Please don't joke about something like that, Your Highness."

"I'm not joking. I'm dead serious."

"That's impossible," she said, her voice brittle. "The Tree of Death can't just be reborn. It was burned to ash. Nothing remained. No root, no seed."

Leon smirked. "Then let me show you what a miracle looks like."

He summoned his system and opened the inventory window. With a thought, he pulled out the [Sapling of the Tree of Death].

The air shifted.

The moment the tiny, black-veined sapling appeared in his hand, Elvera felt it. Like a jolt through her soul.

Her eyes widened in disbelief. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"...Ho...w?" she whispered at last.

Leon stepped forward, holding the sapling like it was nothing more than a stick. "I told you—you'd be most grateful when I was done."

Elvera stared at it as if witnessing the return of a god.

"Snap out of it," Leon said, chuckling. "Quit spacing out and dig a hole. We're planting it here."

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She snapped out of her trance, blinking rapidly. "No, wait. You can't just plant it here—it'll die. The sapling won't survive without Netherwater."

"Netherwater?" Leon raised a brow. "What's that?"

"It's a spiritual fluid—raw essence of death," she explained quickly. "It comes from the River Styx in the underworld. Without it, the sapling won't take root. It'll wither."

Leon crossed his arms. "Great. And where exactly do you expect me to get that?"

"We'd have to enter the underworld itself," she said solemnly.

"Yeah... no thanks," Leon muttered, then called out in his mind.

'Hey, System. Do you have Netherwater in the system shop?'

[There is nothing in this world the System cannot provide. The real question is: can you pay the price?]

"How much?"

[200 SP]

Leon blinked. "That's it?"

[It's not a rare item. You'll need more than one vial though. Given time, even the dark elf can acquire it. Their kind walks with death.]

"I don't have the luxury of time. Purchase it."

[[Purchase confirmed. Netherwater x3 has been added to your inventory.] [Remaining SP: 315]

Only a second passed in the real world. Leon looked back at Elvera.

Leon looked at Elvera. "Relax. I've got everything we need."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm not risking the last hope of my race unless you show me. Prove it."

"Sigh~" Leon handed her the sapling. "Here. Feel it yourself."

Elvera took it with trembling hands. The moment her fingers touched the bark, she shivered. A warm, aching pulse ran through her chest.

She could feel it—the essence of her people. Her origin. Her queenly blood resonated with it... but she could also feel the weakness in the sapling. Its life was slipping away.

"Leon..." she whispered.

He took out the vial of shimmering black liquid from his inventory. "See this? That's your miracle fuel."

Elvera's breath caught. "Yes! Hurry. It's weakening fast."

Leon took the sapling back. "Then what are you waiting for? Start digging."

Elvera dropped to her knees without hesitation, clawing into the hard earth with her bare hands. Dirt flew. Her fingers bled. But she didn't stop.

Within moments, the hole was ready.

Leon knelt beside her and gently placed the sapling into the pit. Then he uncorked the vial of Netherwater and poured it in.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

The black liquid seeped into the roots, and then—

The ground shivered.

Elvera held her breath, hands pressed to the earth.