Chapter 113: War Spirit, Moon Elf

“Isn’t that right, Heavenly Judgment Knight, Ailindel Delis Morningsong?”

The moment the name rang clearly through the hall once more from Nolan’s lips, the gray-armored knight, who had been clutching her head as though struggling against chaotic memories, suddenly froze.

The crimson glow flickering within the slits of her helmet began flashing violently before gradually dimming away, returning to its original muted gray.

Countless fragmented memories surged into her mind like a tidal wave.

Endless battlefields.

Demons blotting out the sky.

Twisted masses of flesh, grotesque creations of blood and meat, and bizarre semi-energy lifeforms shifting endlessly in shape.

Feathers drifting through the air.

Bloodstained weapons.

Alliance comrades collapsing one after another into pools of blood.

Homes reduced to rubble.

Forests burning beneath towering flames…

And finally, before the sacred yet tragic ritual of the Eternal Covenant began, there was the image of her father. A man who had always been strong, who had never shed a single tear before her, quietly turning away to wipe the moisture from the corner of his eyes.

“The Oath of Shackles…”

She slowly raised her head and whispered in a voice so soft only she could hear it herself. At first the words came broken and uncertain, but gradually they grew steadier, firmer.

“I… my identity… I… remember now. I am… the Champion and Lord Commander of the Fifth Alliance Legion, the Vanguard of the Wind King. I am… the Heavenly Judgment Knight, Ailindel Morningsong, the eternal shackle of sinners.”

As her memories and self-awareness steadily returned, the dull gray armor covering her body began undergoing a startling transformation. The weathered outer shell cracked and peeled away like eroding stone, breaking apart into drifting dust that scattered through the air and revealed the true color hidden beneath. A pure white brilliance, flawless as fresh snow and radiant as moonlight. The once plain armor transformed into something magnificent and sacred. Compared to before, the design was now far more ornate and exquisite.

Only at this close distance did the group finally notice the countless intricate magical engravings carved across the armor’s surface. These were not merely decorative. Each engraved pattern formed a miniature enhancement array capable of dramatically strengthening the wearer.

Over the left breastplate bloomed the carving of a lily in full flower.

Even from appearance alone, it was obvious how much effort master craftsmen and arcane enchanters had poured into forging this armor. In an age where even ordinary enchanted armor was extraordinarily precious, such lavish craftsmanship was almost unimaginable.

Everyone stood mesmerized by the breathtaking sight before them, unable to look away from the transformation unfolding like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis.

Then, under their silent gazes, Ailindel slowly raised both hands and removed the winged helmet concealing her face.

Rustle.

Long dark-blue hair spilled down like a waterfall beneath a midnight sky filled with stars, cascading smoothly behind her. And then her face was revealed, a beauty so breathtaking it nearly stole the air from their lungs.

She possessed the pointed ears characteristic of elves, though her features were gentler than those of modern High Elves. Her skin was pale to the point of translucence, finer than even the highest-quality silks of royal courts. Every feature was so exquisitely formed that not a single flaw could be found. Her eyes remained closed, long lashes trembling faintly as they cast delicate shadows over her cheeks.

Behind her, the altar that had continuously emitted a soft white glow suddenly blazed with brilliance. Beams of light intertwined around her body, forming a translucent cocoon of radiant energy that enveloped her completely.

The scene was so beautiful that everyone instinctively softened their breathing, afraid that even the slightest disturbance might shatter this vision of the knight who seemed to have stepped directly out of myth.

A living legendary hero.

“She… she’s an elf too?”

Romina’s reaction was the most complicated of all. She stared at the woman bathed in holy light, her eyes filled with shock and confusion.

There was no question that Ailindel was an elf, yet the aura surrounding her was completely different from that of either modern High Elves or Wood Elves. Hers felt older, nobler, and somehow… closer to the origin of their kind.

As an elf herself, Romina could clearly sense it. The female knight before her stood above every elf she had ever encountered. Not in terms of social standing, but in something deeper, more absolute. A transcendence rooted in bloodline and soul itself.

“Yes. She belongs to one of the branches of the original elves, a bloodline said to rival dragons themselves. In that era, they were known as Moon Elves.” Nolan noticed Romina’s expression and quietly explained. “As far as I know, among the three purest elven bloodlines, only the Star Elves survived and eventually evolved into today’s High Elves. The Sun Elves and Moon Elves both disappeared into the river of time long ago.”

Moon Elves.

Romina’s heart trembled violently.

Wasn’t that race supposed to exist only in the oldest epics and legends? According to the stories, they were the beloved children of the King of Wind Elementals and the noblest royal lineage among all elves.

And yet today, she was witnessing a living Moon Elf with her own eyes.

“My lord…” Renee hid slightly behind Nolan as she stared at Ailindel standing motionless within the cocoon of light. “She… she doesn’t have any life aura. I can’t sense any magical fluctuations from her either.”

“Wait! No life aura?” Little Donnie’s eyes widened as realization suddenly struck him. “Don’t tell me you mean… she’s undead?!”

The guess instantly made everyone tense again after finally relaxing.

The shadow of death cast by the Shiva Undead Empire had long loomed over the southern provinces of the Elfin Kingdom, and most people turned pale at the mere mention of the undead. They represented decay, silence, and destruction, concepts utterly incompatible with the sacred radiance surrounding Ailindel.

Though admittedly, it had suited the gray-armored knight from before rather well.

“No. She’s not one of the Sleepless driven by black magic like those from the Shiva Empire.” Nolan shook his head, his gaze fixed on Ailindel within the cocoon as he spoke in a complicated tone. “She’s… a war spirit. Very likely the first war spirit in the entire history of this continent.”

“A war spirit?”

The unfamiliar term left everyone confused, and they exchanged bewildered glances.

Not undead. Not an ancient magical phantom.

A war spirit?

The name almost sounded like some new invention from the Shiva Empire.

In many cultures, people often prayed for the protection of ancestral spirits, but those were little more than spiritual comforts or hopeful wishes. No one had ever heard of true heroic souls returning to the world of the living.

Throughout Vaughn Continent, all races shared one common belief: if the dead wished to walk the earth again, there was only one path.

To become undead.

“What’s the difference between undead and war spirits?” Romina asked with a frown.

She had spent most of her life deep within the forests and rarely interacted with the outside world, but like all living beings, she instinctively loathed creatures associated with death and decay.

And her question echoed the thoughts of everyone present.