Chapter 122 : Chapter 122
Chapter 122
One ear, severed.
Aquila Reschenhardt felt a jolt of shock as he stared at Levlorne’s ear—half of the flesh gone, the tip blunted where it had been cut away.
In every previous cycle in which he had encountered Levlorne, not once had his ear been severed.
‘The wound has already healed… but the surface is rough. It was not cut off in a single stroke.’
Even now, Aquila’s dark gaze coolly analyzed it.
Had it been sliced cleanly with a sharp blade, the scar would have healed far more neatly.
But that cross-section—
‘Was it carved off with a dull blade, scraped again and again? …Why?’
His eyes gradually cooled, narrowing.
“Dark skin, long ears… could it be…?”
The moment Levlorne removed his hood, the surrounding crowd’s attention converged upon him.
Those not from the East rarely had the opportunity to encounter other races; they might simply find pointed ears curious.
But among those murmuring were natives born and raised in the East as well.
“From the Eternal Valley…?”
Even Kelson, who had been about to protest the interruption earlier, fell silent the instant Levlorne lowered his hood.
Skin dark as the forest’s shade. Jewel-like eyes. Long, pointed ears extending sideways.
And a towering height nearing two meters.
Anyone from the East would recognize that the being before them was no ordinary elf. Even seasoned explorers would rarely meet such a figure unless they ventured deep into the eastern forests.
They seldom left the woods.
“My name is Levlorne. I hail from the Eternal Valley, fourth generation inheritor of my parents’ blood.”
Levlorne continued in a clear voice, devoid of the earlier roar.
Fourth generation inheritor of his parents’ blood.
They did not call themselves High Elves, though they bore that blood. They understood all too well that they were fundamentally different from those who had once revered the earth in an age when gods and dragons walked the world.
It was not a matter of purity, but of the scale of the soul.
Without sparing the murmuring crowd even a glance, Levlorne kept his gaze fixed solely on Aquila. Noticing that Aquila’s black eyes did not leave his ear, he raised a hand and lightly touched the severed tip.
Then he answered calmly.
“I sacrificed this to obtain qualification. For what lies ahead.”
“Qualification?”
Aquila seized upon the word, frowning.
Levlorne did not elaborate, yet his expression remained serene—as though the loss of his ear was not a painful memory.
‘Could it be… he cut it off himself?’
In truth, that seemed the most plausible explanation.
Who could possibly sever the ear of one who bore High Elf blood?
Who would dare infiltrate that iron fortress known as the Eternal Valley—
Aquila’s gaze shifted sideways.
‘…No. If it were Ark Batchel, he would have cut it off in a single stroke.’
Silently clicking his tongue at the absurd thought, he dismissed it.
“So, you wish to form a party?”
He tilted his head crookedly.
“Yes. You will need me.”
“And what makes you so confident that we need you?”
Levlorne inclined his head slightly and replied as though it were obvious.
“We are strong. I would be of greater use than those humans over there who merely swarm about without skill.”
From the lines stretching out from the Adventurers’ Guild to the armed adventurers passing along the street, his gaze swept across them one by one.
Then it settled on Kelson.
“Even more so than this one.”
Kelson’s brow twitched.
Unperturbed, Levlorne shifted his finger to Porzelin.
“And more than this one.”
Porzelin bit his lip.
Finally, Levlorne pointed at Heinen.
“This one… hmm. Even so, I can prove that I am of greater use than him as well.”
Having pointed out everyone except Ark Batchel, Levlorne lowered his arm.
In short, he was declaring himself stronger than all present.
Stronger even than Cahena, who stood on the verge of becoming a High-Ranking Sword Expert. Stronger than Heinen, who possessed enough Divine Power to rise to the position of Second Commander.
Porzelin and Heinen’s expressions are subtly twisted.
Their abilities had been openly dismissed before their eyes.
Yet despite their displeasure, neither could refute him.
Those from the Eternal Valley—descendants of High Elf blood—lived far longer than humans.
And as Aquila knew, Levlorne had lived at least one hundred and eighty years within that deep forest.
Though still considered young within the Eternal Valley itself, he had undeniably lived longer than any human standing here.
“Moreover, as you well know, Ark here is a great warrior. There is no reason not to form a party with us.”
Levlorne lifted his chin proudly.
An as-yet-unrevealed fourth Sword Master.
A man who even Aquila could not comprehend, possessing some ability related to time itself.
By sheer power alone, it was as though some of the continent’s most formidable figures had gathered together. Ordinarily, no one would pass up such an opportunity.
“Hmm. You probably should not phrase it like that……”
Ark Batchel muttered quietly.
And, as expected—
“I see. Then the two of you can enjoy your party together.”
With that, Aquila turned away without hesitation.
“Yes. The two of us can enjoy—what?”
Levlorne, who had been about to nod, froze mid-motion.
He looked as though he were questioning whether he had heard correctly.
Before he could process it, Aquila’s retreating figure was already growing distant.
“Y-you mean to refuse my offer?”
“Yes. I refuse.”
Aquila answered immediately.
In terms of strength, Levlorne was undeniably an asset.
How could he not know that, having met him so many times?
Blunt to the point of shamelessness, tactless to one’s face—yet his soul was clear and pure, his exterior and interior excessively aligned.
But such one-sided memories and exceptional ability became meaningless when considering Levlorne’s endings in previous cycles.
The moment his soul became drenched in blood, hell descended upon those around him.
Whatever scheme Ark Batchel was weaving by appearing before him now, Aquila could not accept a party offer while pretending that vision of hell had never existed.
He knew that hell too well.
And besides—
‘He cannot mean to form a party solely for the Black Forest Dungeon.’
Aquila narrowed his eyes as he approached the table again.
Ark Batchel’s plan—to kill all the gods.
Given Levlorne’s keen hearing and lack of reaction, he must already know and be participating in that plan.
This party offer was clearly an attempt to draw Aquila in.
But that was not what Aquila desired.
Killing the Corrupted God—the final boss of this world—and clearing the mission was an entirely different matter from slaughtering every god in existence.
“Why? If you are the one Ark spoke of—”
“I do not know what you heard, but I have no intention of joining your party.”
His throat was parched.
Standing before the table, Aquila seized his now-cold cup of coffee and drained it in a single gulp.
“…And I am in the midst of severing ties with that fool because of something he did. We shall find an archer elsewhere. Consider your offer withdrawn.”
Setting the cup down, he turned once more.
Confusion. Bewilderment. Questioning gazes.
He gestured to Heinen and Porzelin.
“Let us go. There is nothing to gain by remaining here.”
“But, truly…?”
Heinen hesitated, lips parting.
The unspoken words were obvious: Are you certain you should refuse?
Though Levlorne had belittled him, it remained true that a descendant of High Elf blood was an unparalleled archer—and powerful beyond doubt.
Perhaps it was Ark Batchel’s presence that prevented him from speaking further.
Aquila nodded.
“Let us go. You as well.”
He called out to Merdin and Dalia, who stood stunned after hearing everything.
“Ah, um…”
“May we stop by the shop? I must finish repairing the magic tool we could not complete yesterday.”
“Hah…! That is right! To think I nearly forgot my precious and joyous time from yesterday! Of course! Naturally!”
The moment the Communication Bracelet was mentioned, light—no, flames—flared in Merdin’s eyes.
“Come! Quickly!”
He bounced with renewed enthusiasm. Even Dalia’s attempt to restrain him proved futile.
After all, that had been his sole wish from the start.
And this was precisely the reaction Aquila had intended.
If Merdin insisted on leaving, they would have a perfect excuse to withdraw.
“Oh. And as for why a member of the Adventurers’ Guild has come all the way here, I do not know—but we have much to attend to. If you intended to request something, we must decline.”
Aquila added quickly before Kelson could resume speaking.
Judging by the way he had tried to address Heinen, it likely required Divine Power. In Aquila’s experience, Guild requests were filled with endless menial tasks.
Once accepted, they never ceased.
“I was speaking to this Temple Knight—”
“Preposterous!”
Levlorne’s shout drowned out Kelson’s words.
He trembled.
“Do you not understand what lies ahead? How can you dismiss this so lightly—!”
“Lev.”
Once again, Ark Batchel intervened, gently grasping his shoulder.
“We cannot force him.”
He shook his head.
As before, and even now, his eyes were calm as a windless lake—bearing the wisdom of a sage.
“Hah.”
Aquila scoffed.
Coming from the man who had forcibly teleported him east without explaining anything about Fenrir, the words rang hollow.
Levlorne seemed ready to protest further, but at the sight of Ark’s expression, he swallowed the words at the edge of his throat.
Ark patted his shoulder a few times and shifted his gaze.
“I will wait. If you change your mind, come to the inn.”
“I will not.”
Aquila cut him off, waving dismissively.
He simply wished to leave this place as swiftly as possible.
Naturally, the two restless swordsmen hurried after him, though they remained vigilant in case the pair followed.
Merdin trailed behind cheerfully, indifferent to the tension, while Dalia kept glancing back.
“I will wait.”
Ark Batchel spoke with curious certainty.
Aquila quickened his pace.
Watching his retreating back, Ark gave a short laugh before turning to Levlorne.
“Let us return as well.”
“Is it truly acceptable to let him go like that?”
“Yes. He will return. Do not worry.”
They exchanged glances and finally turned away.
Ark did not look back.
Levlorne pulled his hood over his face once more, though he briefly cast a glance behind him.
Only the lingering murmur of the crowd remained.
“No, just what in the world…….”
Only Kelson was left standing there, unable to conceal his bewilderment.
***
[Aquila? Quil? Are you well?]
Later that afternoon, after the magic tool repairs had been completed—
At last, a message arrived from Lexenbert Fad Reschenhardt.