Chapter 115: The True Name of a Moon Elf

“Maybe there are others, but their numbers should be extraordinarily small. Honestly, I’m not completely sure myself.” Nolan shook his head. “The requirements for becoming a war spirit are simply too harsh. Throughout the entire history of Vaughn Continent, there have only been a handful of people capable of fulfilling all three conditions simultaneously: power, will, and selfless devotion. Someone as noble and selfless as her is incredibly rare. More importantly, after the end of the War of Heaven, the Seven Saints either fell or withdrew from the world, and the exact methods behind the ‘Soul Ascension’ ritual gradually became unclear, perhaps even completely lost.”

At this point, Nolan’s tone suddenly turned cold, a trace of disgust flashing through his eyes.

“However, around a thousand years ago, the first lich in the history of the Shiva Empire, the ‘Sleepless One’ Balrok, accidentally discovered fragments of the Soul Ascension ritual within the tomb of a Saint located at the southernmost edge of the continent.

“At the time, he was still merely a necromancer and incapable of meeting the ritual’s requirements. So he corrupted the entire process, removing the requirements for willpower and selfless devotion, and created an infamous black magic ritual known as ‘biological conversion.’ Although it also transforms someone into undead, biological conversion cannot preserve and utilize soul essence the way Soul Ascension does. Instead, it tears apart and twists the soul of the living subject, trapping them in eternal madness and obsession.”

Thinking of the vile ritual that had brought endless suffering to the Elfin Kingdom in his previous life, Nolan could not help clenching his teeth.

“And the greatest ‘achievement’ of this forbidden art…is that it no longer requires the subject to possess powerful willpower or great strength. It doesn’t even require consent.”

That final sentence sent a chill through everyone present.

“This is now the primary transformation method used by the liches and corpse liches of the Shiva Empire. They frequently use this inhuman ritual on captured slaves and soldiers during wartime, converting them into mindless undead armies on a massive scale.”

Vivi and the others felt their scalps go numb listening to this. Even without ever meeting him, they developed a deep hatred toward the so-called Sleepless One, Balrok.

“Nolan…” Vivi looked toward Ailindel within the cocoon of light, concern filling her eyes. “What’s happening to her now? She’ll be alright… won’t she?”

“I’m not sure either.” Nolan shook his head helplessly. “This is the first time I’ve seen something like this.”

For once, the situation had genuinely moved beyond the limits of his knowledge.

In the original game scenario, once players entered this room, all they needed to do was speak the Demon Overlord’s name and explain their purpose. Ailindel would then appear voluntarily, test the intruders’ combat ability, and if they passed, help them activate the altar used to suppress the Demon Overlord.

After successfully suppressing it, they could safely obtain the Fountain of Potential. 

There had never been amnesia. Never a berserk rampage. Never a battle.

The entire sequence of events had already veered completely away from the original path.

***

Ailindel felt as though she had awakened from a dream that had lasted countless ages. Within that dream, she once more returned to the day she swore the Oath of Shackles.

“I shall guard this place for eternity without ever faltering, until the Abyss itself burns away, or the world comes to an end.”

She remembered the unwilling whisper uttered by the imprisoned Demon Overlord in its final moments.

She remembered the homeland crushed beneath demonic iron hooves, and the comrades who had once fought beside her, only to perish upon the battlefield.

She even remembered her father. The man who always kept a stern expression and rarely smiled had stood behind her before she entered the seal, tears of unbearable reluctance and immense pride filling his eyes.

According to the original agreement, she would awaken briefly every thousand years, using the power of her soul to reinforce the seal.

How many times had she already awakened? She could no longer remember.

What she did remember was that every awakening had become more difficult than the last. Each time, her consciousness had grown more fragmented, more indistinct. Ten thousand years of solitude were enough to erode even the hardest steel, enough to wear down even the firmest soul.

Until just now, she had nearly lost herself completely within the endless cycle of memory and duty. Only one obsession remained:

Fulfill her responsibility.

Destroy all intruders.

That should have been her ending.

Gradually losing herself through endless ages until she became nothing more than a cold and obsessive killing machine devoted to a single mission, continuing until her soul finally exhausted itself or a powerful enemy destroyed her.

And yet…

That man had called her name.

“Ailindel Delis Morningsong.”

The first was her personal name. The last was her family name. Between them lay the “Name of Origin,” unique to Moon Elves. It was a privilege granted only to races favored by the Creator.

Dragons possessed something similar. Together, they formed her complete name, or in Moon Elf tradition: her true name.

A Moon Elf’s name was the source of their power and the anchor of their soul. To forget one’s own name meant a catastrophic weakening of power, and eventually the total loss of self, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell.

And that man’s voice had forcibly pulled her back from the brink of oblivion.

In a Moon Elf’s lifetime, there were two people of greatest importance. One was the elder who bestowed their name. The other was the partner to whom they pledged their entire life.

And in a sense, that man had become someone who had granted her name a second time.

Ailindel slowly opened her eyes. They were clear and radiant, like flawless amber.

Through the translucent curtain of light, she quietly looked toward the man being supported by his companions, blood still seeping from the wound in his shoulder.

The familiar aura of dragons surrounding him stirred an inexplicable sense of closeness within her. After all, dragons and Moon Elves had once been the closest of allies. Only Moon Elves had ever possessed dragon riders. Other races lacked the right to make dragons bow their heads.

It had been far, far too long since she had seen another living being, much less someone who felt familiar.

That loneliness, buried deep within her soul, magnified countless times over now that she was truly awake.

And somehow, this man eased it.

Without realizing it, her gaze softened. A strange feeling she had never experienced before slowly spread through her heart.

“Couldn’t we find some way to bring her with us?” Through the light barrier, Ailindel heard the tiger-eared girl speaking to the man. “She’s been alone here for over ten thousand years. That’s too pitiful. And she’s so powerful. If she joined us…”

“Well… I’d certainly like to, but I doubt it’ll be easy…”

Ailindel raised a hand.

The white cocoon surrounding her instantly dissolved, interrupting their conversation.

Her dark-blue hair drifted gently behind her despite the absence of wind, and her eyes never left Nolan for even a moment.

Then she spoke. Her voice was no longer the deep, hoarse tone from before. It was clear and melodious now, yet still carried the sharp confidence of a soldier. “Nolan, was it?”

“That’s me.” Nolan stepped forward to meet her gaze, carefully choosing respectful words. “It’s an honor to meet you, Lady Ailindel. We came here in order to—”

“I know.” Ailindel interrupted him. “Anyone who reaches this place can only have come for Qroshu.”

As she spoke, she walked directly toward Nolan. Then, under everyone’s stunned gazes, she extended a pale hand and gently pressed it against his chest.

“Uh… my lady…” Nolan froze at the utterly unexpected and rather improper gesture, momentarily forgetting how to react.

“There’s a very familiar aura around you.” Ailindel closed her eyes as though carefully sensing something. “Are you truly not from the Dragon Legion?”

“No. I’m a perfectly ordinary human.”

“The Source of the Dragon…!” Ailindel suddenly opened her eyes, wearing the same astonished expression Nolan himself might have shown. “No wonder. You’re a dragon prince? No… you don’t carry the signature dragon lance they use… Then whose consort among dragonkind are you?”