Chapter 23: Elven Princess

Her name was Cetha and she was an elf.

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Father. Mother. It only can exist in the past, now. A true kingdom. It was a true kingdom. Our people were delighted and vigorous. Our Forest was just and fair. Our families were safe and sound. But now, there is just me, and everything—truly everything, Father, Mother—went wrong. There can only be me, your crying and pathetic helpless daughter, without any help or hope.

It is all in the past now. All beyond mending, behind us all, locked away from us. For it matters not how strong one's will can be, in the final analysis, if one doesn't have the power to go along with will, one doesn't possess anything.

The righteous person can be stomped under the foot of the evil one. It would never matter how one wishes for anything. If they do not have power and might, they are to be lorded over by their own vulnerability. Or rather, inadequacy. At any rate, even the just righteousness you, Father and Mother, have instilled in me, I do not have. I am weak and beyond help. But that isn't all. I must also deserve it. If only I had strength…

What is more, observing the righteous beyond help, and the evil force disparaging against all laws, not even a soul would dare utter so much as a word of discontentment. Not even in their own head would they complain about it. I have seen it with my eyes. People truly are beyond help. My people are, at the very least. They are weak, just like their princess, and beyond help. If only the weak wished to help themselves.

Father. Such a way of behaving totally contradicts your words and teachings. But work, as well as suffering, labor, and effort—all of what brings people to success and true happiness—is indeed almost always rejected by the people of helplessness. Father, my King. Your daughter cannot help but scorn her people. For that sin, I must apologize. Now that you and Mother are gone, who will accept my apology?

Our people, Father, and that includes me, are weak, lost without your guidance and reign. Without your capability and strength. And I can swear an oath to it by our Sacred Tree! I wish I could do something, anything really, to help fix our problem, anything! And restore our glory. But I can't! I can't pull something like this! Had I been granted the power, I surely would. What can one lone, weak feeble girl like me do on her own? I am no warrior! That's correct. I am only weak and can't assure my own protection. Father, Mother, I wished you were there, and I can't stop my tears.

Now, the weak, pathetic helpless princess you left behind can do is follow 'them' as they forcefully drag me around to every little remote village or establishment in order to 'stall for some time'. Stall some time before what? Your daughter can't even know what. Before the inevitable occurs, most probably.

I have never experienced any fights. Nor any kind of struggle at all. That is the reason for my own weakness. Trapped in another empty, dark room. I don't speak to anyone. Orders are just given to me, and I follow them. This inn is the fifth. Will there be a sixth? Or will the True Demon Lord, that scum, have his way before? Will I be saved?

For all this, Father, I blame you and I blame my people. Overprotecting me has only served to precipitate our own fall. And my people—no, they aren't 'my' people and responsibility anymore—the people, why are they so weak-willed? Where is the clear path of dignity that you, the King, have shown us? Did they not heed their King? Really now! It falls upon one's own soul to help themselves in times of hardship. But they do not. After you passed away, Father, every matter of the Kingdom went downhill. But I am to be blamed too. The Demon Lords allied, and now our kingdom is no more. And now, are they to defile me? Because God forbid, if that were to happen, they would earn the Sacred Tree's Benediction? To accomplish what evil do they need that! The idea scares me—it shatters me.

Even when I am fully aware you aren't here, listening to your poor daughter, as I moan and complain alone, in the dark, with no apparent end in sight—the only idea of speaking to you eases at least my heart of one huge load of sorrow and pitifulness. I have lost everything. It's hard on me. I want to be strong. I do want to be! How will I bring myself to that station, however?! How am I to stop the tears from flowing? Indubitably, I alone am not to stop them. I just long for my parents' presence and love. If only things hadn't turned out like this. I want my wish to be fulfilled. I want to be saved. But I'm a coward. And unworthy!

It didn't matter how hard I wished for help, nobody came. Not a soul. Spending the rest of my night crying myself to sleep, I may have dozed off and forgotten at times.

—W-What is that?!

But in the night, something came and ended my lamentation. Would I be saved?

I was startled. Who was that? A shadow gets on top of me. No way, have the demons already come to me? Rather than help, wasn't I to die then and there? Was I going to be hurt? Did that shadow want me to suffer, too? Father, Mother!

My heartbeat increased ridiculously, and my thoughts only begged for help.

Someone, help. I beg of you. Just help me. I'm in this inn in that room in that bed. Just send some help! Whoever that is, please, help me. I just… Do not let that person hurt me. Do not let them immobilize me, and pin me down on my bed.

Shutting my eyes tight, I frowned. I was scared. Nothing ever changed, in these times. I was still suffering. The shadow on top of me brought their face closer to mine. I could distinguish the features of a young boy. So young. Like me. Probably younger than me. What was more, this boy's eyes, weren't they like mine too? Aren't they crying for help too? Doesn't he need a savior, too? Or maybe will he be my savior! But what of all this was of any importance? I needed to calm myself and stabilize my thoughts. Pull myself together, in some sense. My world was just going to disappear—the boy told me he was sorry. Clearly, he was in so much pain. I was scared, but thinking he at least helped himself, unlike me, I managed to grow calmer and calmer. Somehow, I couldn't help but smile. It was eerie, I felt happy. Hey, maybe would my wish come true? He brought his face closer to mine, I looked deeply into his eyes, I told him it was fine, and I meant it.

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Suddenly, I was plunged into darkness. But I was still here.

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❮ Name: Skill ❯

❮ Race: Demonic Unclassified(?) ❯

❮ Title: Unique Monster, Fratricide, Evolver❯

❮ Level: 41 ❯

❮ Status ❯

❮ HP: 365/1450 ❯

❮ MP: 370/400 ❯

❮ Vit. 82 ❯

❮ Strength 82 ❯

❮ Agility 82 ❯

❮ Intelligence 82 ❯

❮ Sense 82 ❯

❮ Fatigue: 39 ❯

❮ Unique Skills: [Mana's Benediction] [Dwelling] [Grand Devourer] [Evolve] ❯

❮ Passive Skills: [Jelly-like Shapelessness] [Resistant Body] [Consciousness] [Mana Perception] [Reinred School — Sword Style +7] [Resistance to Poison +3] [Resistance to Pain +1] [Resistance to Cold] [Enhanced Flair] [Night Vision] [Resistance to Ailment] [Sharp Ear] ❯

❮ Active Skills: <Copying> <Quick Pace> <Intimidation> <Chain Attack> <Claw> <Knit Cobweb> ❯

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