Author's Note:
Warning: the beginning of this chapter contains disturbing scenes of torture, violence, and psychological breakdown. Even though I didn't go into extreme detail, I decided to add a 18+ rating. Please do not read if you are under the appropriate age. I am not responsible for readers' reactions.
Enjoy your reading.
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—Third-Person Perspective—
Between moss-covered stone walls lay a dungeon steeped in darkness—reeking of mold, groaning with the clatter of rusty chains. Old bloodstains soaked into the floor merged with the sound of damp droplets falling from the ceiling. The only thing that broke this oppressive silence was a ragged, wheezing breath.
"Haaah… Haaah…"
The owner of the sound was a figure shackled to the wall with heavy chains. Vaelor—once a towering elf known for his golden hair and sharp green eyes—was now little more than a shadow clinging to bone. His body was covered in whip marks, deep cuts, and burns. His nails had been torn out, his teeth forcibly ripped away, and one of his eyes brutally gouged out. But the most painful truth of all… both of his legs were gone. Even breathing had become a battle in itself.
"Haaah… Haaah… Khh!Khh!"
The elf coughed violently, blood filling his mouth before he spat it out harshly.
'Two hundred seventy-eight years, forty-six days, twelve hours. That is how long my captivity has lasted…'
He coughed again, violently.
"KHH!KHH!"
His single remaining eye stared ahead with unyielding will.
'…I never once imagined that the Queen's brother would betray us… There was a serpent hiding behind that pleasant face… and even a serpent would be better than that monster…'
The elf continued to draw deep, labored breaths.
"Haaah… Haaah… Khh!Khh!"
'We had received orders to strike the enemy lines in secret… but it was a trap… The Green Guards stabbed us in the back. More than half of my men died in the clash… The rest were captured… I wish they had died instead… I will never forget the screams from the neighboring cells in those early years… The cries, the sounds of resistance… and later… the sounds of begging…'
The elf coughed violently once more.
"KHH!KHH!"
'They tried every method to prevent us from killing ourselves. They tore out our teeth so we couldn't bite our tongues… They fastened thick collars around our necks so we couldn't twist and break them… They ripped out our nails one by one and bound our hands… I don't even want to speak of what they forced us to eat…'
With immense effort, the elf lifted his head and looked toward the ceiling. A hoarse, mocking chuckle escaped his throat.
"Kukukuku… Khh khh!"
'To think that I was once the second captain of the most feared ranger unit in this world… How utterly shameful…'
At that moment, the heavy dungeon door opened, and a man entered accompanied by the sound of chains dragging across the floor. He was well-dressed, his fingers adorned with rings of gold and gemstones. A curved horn protruded from his head, and a round monocle rested over one eye. His black lips curled upward, revealing sharp teeth as he smiled arrogantly.
"Well, well! If it isn't our Second Commander Vaelor! You look better than the last time I saw you! I mean… better than this morning."
Vaelor, shackled to the wall, glared at the newcomer with hatred and gave a sharp, mocking smile.
"What is it, Vulgar? You came back faster than I expected. I thought you'd run away. After all, you're not only an incompetent lord, but also a terrible torturer. Kukukuku… Khh khh…"
Vulgar's smile faded slightly, but he didn't seem to care.
"Ah~ still sharp-tongued. That's exactly why I lo~ve torturing you~."
As Vulgar walked further inside, he pulled on a chain in his hand. Following it came an elf woman crawling on all fours—her body covered in whip scars, her hair golden, her eyes green. Those green eyes stared emptily ahead, devoid of any trace of will. She wore not a single piece of clothing; she was like a walking corpse. Compared to Vaelor, she was in better condition… at least physically. Vulgar let out a mocking chuckle.
"Ah~ forgive me, Vaelor. I brought my pet along with me. I hope you don't mind~"
Vaelor glanced indifferently at the figure crawling across the floor.
'…To see my once flawless and untouchable commander—someone I admired—reduced to this is heartbreaking… But she resisted for a long time. I admired her all over again… yet for fifty years she endured torture and rape every single minute… In the end, her will broke… I thanked fate that I was not a woman… Most of the women captured with us likely ended up like this…'
Without revealing his inner thoughts, Vaelor laughed mockingly.
"Hahaha… Khh khh… A boring trick. I admit, the first time it was truly effective… khh khh… haaah… haaah… But now I've built quite a resistance. A stale trick… Why did you even bother, little Vulgar~? Did you really think such a cheap stunt would break my will? That's hilarious! Hahaha—KHH KHH!KHH KHH! Hahaha…"
The sight disappointed Vulgar, but he did not lose his composure. For over two hundred years, Vaelor was the only elf they had tortured whose will had not broken. Deep down, Vulgar felt a twisted admiration for him—but his hatred for elves outweighed everything else. He pulled on the chain, bringing the woman forward, and stopped her in front of Vaelor. Using her like a chair, Vulgar sat down on her back, crossing his legs. The woman did not react at all. Vulgar nodded in satisfaction and looked at the captive chained to the wall.
"I must admit, Vaelor… you surpassed all of our expectations."
Vulgar grabbed the hair of the woman beneath him and yanked it hard. Not a single sound escaped her lips. Vulgar continued speaking.
"You endured longer than even Elaria, the finest warrior of your kind… Though even she exceeded our expectations. Her will did not break for fifty-nine years. But in the end, even she accepted her fate. Many nobles tried to pay me fortunes to buy her, but money is far more worthless to me than Elaria. Don't you think so?"
Vaelor let out a hoarse chuckle.
"Kukuku—khh khh… If you say so, it must be true. But I wonder… how's your wife? After all, she must hate me pretty much for slitting your son's throat… Ahh~ I'm sorry… I forgot! While her were trying to torture me, I broke her's neck with my legs! Hahahah! Khh khh!"
The moment Vaelor mentioned his wife, Vulgar's face twisted with rage. He leapt to his feet and drove his claws deep into Vaelor's abdomen. His fury was unmistakable—but Vaelor merely chuckled.
"I think a mosquito just bit my stomach… Haaah… haaah… Would you mind scratching it for me? Hahaha! Khh khh!"
At the mention of his wife, Vulgar's eyes turned bloodshot with rage. A bestial growl tore from his throat.
"Shut up! SHUT UP!" he roared.
He raised his claws like a sledgehammer and brought them down savagely onto Vaelor's bare chest.
Schlukt!
The sharp claws sank into fresh flesh. Vulgar did not stop—he dragged them downward as if tearing paper.
Crrrriiip!
Deep, bloody gashes opened across Vaelor's chest. Blood began seeping between the stones of the wall. Vulgar had completely lost control, raining blows with fists, nails, and claws in blind hatred.
Fshhh! Schlukt! Prrt!
Each strike tore new holes into flesh, metallic sounds echoing through the dungeon's silence. Yet Vaelor's body reacted only physically, like a lifeless log. Not a groan, not a scream, not a single whimper escaped him. Years of hell had not merely numbed his nerves—it had carried his mind beyond pain itself. There was no torturer left in this world who could touch his will.
Minutes later, Vulgar was gasping for breath. His hands were soaked in blood, his shoulders rising and falling helplessly. His wife and son had died because of this man; he should have hated him completely—yet inside him, a strange, sick admiration was taking root.
'If I were in his place, I would have died a thousand times over… I would have chosen to become like Elaria, to lose myself, a thousand times over. But this man… this man is still here.'
Vulgar stood there, drenched in sweat, without even the strength to wipe the blood from his hands. In that moment, even the icy air of the dungeon seemed to grow warm.
"…Is that all?"
Vulgar flinched at the whisper and lifted his head. What he saw made his heart nearly stop.
Vaelor had leaned forward as far as his chains allowed. His face was only inches away from Vulgar's. Vaelor's single eye burned with a bottomless, pitch-black madness Vulgar had never seen before.
Defying the blood pouring from his torn chest, Vaelor spoke again in a mocking, ice-cold tone:
"Is that all, Vulgar? Is that really the best you can do… just this much?"
Suddenly, Vaelor hurled his body forward as if released from an invisible bow.
CLAAANG!
The heavy shackles anchored to the wall stretched tight with a shrieking metallic scream, leaving his arms suspended—but the sudden motion was as fast as a predator's strike. Vulgar staggered back in shock. His feet caught on Elaria's motionless body, and he lost his balance, crashing hard onto the ground.
Vulgar lifted his head in fury, ready to retaliate—but the sight before him stole his voice. His gaze shifted in seconds from rage to pure terror. What stood before him was no longer a helpless prisoner, but the manifestation of a dark being woven from hatred and madness. Vaelor bared his bloodied gums in a wide, demonic grin.
"IS THAT ALL!?" Vaelor roared. His voice slammed into the stone walls, growing louder.
"HAHAHAHA! LOOK AT ME—I AM STILL RESISTING!"
As he thrashed against his chains, his voice grew more feral.
"Do you know how much I wish I still had my teeth right now!? I would tear out your greasy throat with them and chew on your flesh! How I would love to scrape your chest open like a piece of fruit with my nails and rip out your still-beating heart, chewing it in front of you! HAHAHAHA!"
Vaelor's single eye blazed with madness.
"I am still resisting—but you… you can only scar my body! HAHAHAHAHA! Who is the wretch, Vulgar? Me, chained to this wall… or you, trembling in mortal fear of me!? Let's see! Who will break first! The moment you fear stepping through this dungeon door—I win! I have enslaved you to your own fear, Vulgar Crimson! HAHAHAHAHA!"
CLANG! THUD! CLANG!
Vaelor shook his chains as if he would rip them from the wall, his laughter echoing through the deepest corridors of the dungeon. The guards outside the door recoiled in terror at the inhuman sounds coming from within. Prisoners in neighboring cells shrank into the darkest corners, trembling.
Vulgar crawled backward across the floor. What stood before him was no longer an Elf.
It was a MONSTER dragged up from the depths of hell.
Ignoring his noble attire and pride, Vulgar scrambled to his feet and fled the cell without looking back.
Seeing his escape, Vaelor's laughter grew even louder.
"HAHAHAHA! ARE YOU RUNNING!? COWARD! COME BACK AND FIGHT! I HAVE BEEN HERE FOR 278 YEARS—AND YOU RUN NOW!? PATHETIC COWARD! HAHAHAHAHA! KHH KHH KHH!"
Vulgar fled so quickly that the guards and other prisoners stood frozen in shock. The wardens locked the cell with trembling hands, as if sealing away a demon, and hurried away.
When the dungeon finally fell back into its heavy silence, Vaelor's madness gave way to deep exhaustion. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He slowly leaned his head back against the wall and allowed himself a weary, victorious grin.
"Hahaha… Khh khh! Haaah… At last… my first victory…"
With his single eye, he looked at his former commander, still standing like an unresponsive statue on the floor. His voice softened, fragile and sorrowful.
"Do you think… do you think I looked cool, Elaria?"
Vaelor turned his gaze fully toward his former commander. Elaria had not reacted in the slightest—not even to Vulgar's escape. She simply stood there, her soul hollowed out, like a toy awaiting orders.
"…Looks like they completely broke you, huh," Vaelor sighed softly. "Haaah… haaah… But I swear to you, Commander—I will resist until the day I die. I will defend the honor of our unit with my final breath… khh khh! Otherwise… otherwise I could never face our fallen comrades."
At that moment, for the first time since entering the cell, a faint reaction came from Elaria. Tears began to stream from the corners of her eyes—yet her body did not move a single inch. The cursed collar around her neck and the crushing weight of years had rendered her incapable of acting without command.
Vaelor noticed the change, froze for a moment… then let out a bitter, broken chuckle.
"I suppose you still have a trace of resistance left, my commander… cough, cough! Just as one would expect from you…"
He slowly leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling.
"There's no need for you to cry for me… I've long since grown accustomed to this life."
As Vaelor tried to rest, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and on the verge of closing, a glowing blue text suddenly appeared right before him.
[Good day, Mr. Vaelor. I have come to make you an offer.]
Vaelor blinked in disbelief.
"Hahaha… Truly… I really have finally gone completely mad."
The text shifted instantly, as if it had heard him:
[No, Mr. Vaelor. You are not hallucinating. I have an offer for you. Namely…]
Vaelor read the flowing lines with intense focus.
"Another world? Founding a kingdom? A hybrid leader… Igris? Is that the name? Kuhahahaha! Anywhere—anywhere is better than this hell… But what about my team? What will happen to them?"
[At present, you are the only one among your group who is mentally stable. You possess the right to decide on behalf of all of them. What is your decision?]
Vaelor hesitated for a brief moment. His comrades, Elaria, and the honor that had been slaughtered—all of their final hope was contained within that blue screen. Suddenly, he let out one of those manic laughs that once again shook the dungeon.
"HAHAHAHA! ANYWHERE IS BETTER THAN HERE! IF SUCH A CHANCE TRULY EXISTS… I ACCEPT!"
The moment his words ended, the ground trembled. Vaelor looked down and could not believe his eyes—his commander, Elaria, was gone. All that remained on the floor was that wretched, gold-inlaid collar, its surface glowing with runes. Vaelor's chest swelled with triumph.
"HAHAHAHA! DID YOU HEAR THAT, VULGAR? I'M LEAVING! ONE DAY I'LL COME BACK TO TAKE YOUR LIFE! LIVE IN FEAR! I WON THIS WAR! HAHAHAHA!"
Viiinn!
In the very next second, Vaelor vanished in a beam of light. The guards outside hesitated as sudden silence and a burst of light erupted from within, then cautiously opened the door.
"Where are they?!"
When they rushed inside, the cell was completely empty. The moment they saw the jewel-encrusted collar lying on the floor, the blood drained from their faces.
"SOUND THE ALARM IMMEDIATELY! THE COMMANDER AND DEPUTY COMMANDER OF THE CRIMSON ARCHERS HAVE ESCAPED! INFORM LORD VULGAR AT ONCE!"
From that moment on, chaos exploded throughout the castle and the entire kingdom. Not only the two prisoners from the cell, but more than two hundred elven captives across the kingdom had vanished into thin air. From that day forward, Vulgar Crimson lived with his psyche shattered, constantly feeling Vaelor's breath at the back of his neck. He searched the entire continent inch by inch. The elven leader who had betrayed them suffered the same terror—but they were never found.
Because the Crimson Archers had left this world permanently, never to return…
— Planet Arda —
— Middle Continent / Earth —
— Rivendell —
— Igris' point of view —
"9997… 9998… 9999… 10000."
The burning sensation in my arms was deeply satisfying. I had spent the entire night training. Pull-ups, sit-ups, push-ups, squats—countless exercises. Still, I wished I had access to proper weights; it would make training far more efficient. I would have to increase my standard routine—my current program was no longer sufficient.
I placed the sword in my hand back into my inventory and stretched. I was drenched in sweat from head to toe. I needed a bath. Calmly, I stepped onto the balcony and looked outside, noticing that the sun was about to rise. I should wash up and then head to the kitchen—I needed to feed the dwarves properly, hahaha… Otherwise Bombur would raise the banner of rebellion. Even enduring ten days of raw vegetables is an immense test of patience for a dwarf, but if this continues, not even Thorin Oakenshield could stop Bombur's uprising, hahaha.
I slowly pulled a shirt over my bare upper body and headed toward the door. Opening the door crafted with elegant elven workmanship, I stepped outside. After glancing left and right along the refined corridor, I proceeded to the right. Before long, I encountered two guards.
"Excuse me, gentlemen. Good morning. Might you direct me to a place where I can cleanse myself?"
The two guards stopped and looked at me. One of them spoke.
"You are the wounded Dúnedain from Thorin Oakenshield's group, brought here by Mithrandir. Why are you so sweaty? Have you developed a fever? Shall we summon a healer?"
I replied with a smile.
"No, no. There's no need. I spent the entire night training, that's why."
The two elves looked at each other, then back at me. Their faces were fully concealed by their helmets, so I could not see their expressions. The other one spoke.
"…You trained with that arm?"
I nodded and moved my left arm.
"Yes. It's in much better condition now. As always, elven healing is magnificent."
The other guard responded.
"We thank you for your humble praise, but the bones in your arm were nearly shattered, riddled with fractures. Healing it exhausted even Lord Elrond. Please refrain from putting too much strain on it for a few more days."
I nodded.
"I understand. Thank you for the warning. Could you please be so kind as to show me a place where I may cleanse myself?"
The other guard replied.
"Proceed straight ahead. You will see stairs on the left—go down two floors, then turn left and continue straight. Enter the seventh door to find the bathing area. However, knock on the first door beforehand and inform the attendant."
I nodded.
"Thank you very much. I wish you a good watch."
The elves returned the gesture.
"Wishing you a swift recovery."
I continued on my way as they resumed their patrol. Haaah… Living among elves is not for me… They are too refined, excessively bound by etiquette. They possess a nobility befitting Arda's high elves… But I do not belong here. This place is too peaceful—and my blood runs wild. This much serenity drives me mad, hahaha… If Yavuz were here, he wouldn't last two days before going out to hunt orcs or monsters… We enjoy peace, yes—but we seek an energetic peace. This place is far too calm…
I moved on, found the stairs, descended two floors, and knocked on the first door. When it opened, an elf looked at me, examining me from head to toe. I did the same—blond hair, green eyes, handsome… Just like the others. The elf spoke calmly.
"What do you want?"
I offered a slight bow and replied.
"Good day, Master Elf—"
"My name is Eryndil."
"…Very well, Eryndil. My name is Igris. I travel with the Oakenshield company. I have just completed training and need to cleanse myself. Could you direct me to a suitable place? The guards instructed me to speak with you first."
Eryndil studied me carefully.
"So you are the famous Black Knight."
I stared at him in surprise, giving him an odd look.
"…I don't think I'm that famous."
Eryndil nodded.
"Yes and no. You see, we elves live long lives, Igris, and life can sometimes become dull. That's why we like to keep track of new developments. In recent years, you've been the most active individual, so many elves are familiar with your name. Honestly, I have no idea where a madman like you came from… your methods are a bit cruel."
I tilted my head to the side in confusion. What methods was he talking about? I had used perfectly efficient and rather mild methods, as far as I was concerned. Curious, I asked:
"Which methods?"
Eryndil shook his head slightly.
"Come. Let's talk while we walk."
I nodded and followed him. Eryndil began speaking calmly.
"Is it true that you carried out a mass punishment in Dunland, east of Enedwaith?"
I tilted my head again in surprise, thinking carefully. I had done so many things that I couldn't immediately tell which incident he meant.
"…Are you talking about the Golber family being impaled on greased stakes?"
Eryndil stared at me, stunned.
"No… I mean—did you really do something like that… to an entire family?"
I nodded.
"Yes. They deserved it. They were capturing their own people and passing travelers, drugging them, and selling them to vampires. They were so meticulous that no one noticed for a long time. When I learned the truth, I joined forces with the Green Sparrow mercenary group and resolved the matter. We killed everyone involved and delivered appropriate punishment to those at the top. I left the governance of that city to them afterward. Orland, the leader of the Green Sparrow mercenaries, is a good man and just. I heard he moved there with his wife and children and settled down. When I last corresponded with him last year, everything was in order."
Understanding the situation, Eryndil sighed and nodded.
"Sometimes humans can be greedier than dwarves when it comes to gold… but at least dwarves don't sell their own kind for it. Or another race."
I nodded and sighed in return.
"…Unfortunately, that is the nature of humanity. Some are very good, some are evil, and some are gray. You can never know what they will do."
After nodding, Eryndil hesitated briefly and asked,
"…Then what about the other incident?"
I looked puzzled and thought for a moment… Which incident was he referring to now?
"…Do you mean the one where I paraded the thieves' guild of Dogma Town through the streets for three days and three nights, mounted backward on donkeys?"
Eryndil burst into laughter.
"Hahahah! No, not that one either—but I have heard of it. Quite an interesting affair. The thieves were so humiliated that they swore never to steal again."
I chuckled and nodded. To be fair, I had dressed them like maidens and hung signs around their necks that read 'I am a thief.' The townsfolk's reaction had been so brutal that the men had wanted to dig holes and crawl into them. Hahaha…
"Then tell me, Eryndil—which incident are you talking about? The guessing game ends here. I've been involved in so many things that I can't properly remember most of them."
As we walked, Eryndil carefully scanned the surroundings. He opened his mouth but couldn't speak. Now I was genuinely curious. What misdeed of mine had left an elf so speechless? Eryndil looked around once more, then gestured subtly toward a certain direction.
And then I remembered.
"AH! You mean the incident where I castrated more than thirty bandits! Yes, I did that."
Eryndil froze in shock.
"I thought that was an exaggerated rumor… Did you really do that? Isn't it a bit… cruel?"
Scratching my head, I replied,
"You elves always try to see things from the good side. Those men were human traffickers. They sold people to vampires, Black Circle sorcerers, Red Scorpions, and even Dark Elves… You can imagine what they did to the women."
Eryndil was horrified, then shouted in rage,
"TO DARK ELVES?! ARE THEY ACTIVE IN MIDDLE-EARTH?!"
I shrugged. The two races despised each other to the marrow. Yes—Arda's noble and gentle elves truly hated one race with every fiber of their being. Speaking lightly, almost teasingly, I said:
"Have you ever heard the saying, 'Wherever there are elves, there are Dark Elves'?"
After taking several deep breaths, the furious Eryndil calmed down and stared at me with furrowed brows.
"No. Whose saying is that?"
I pointed at myself.
"Mine."
Eryndil stared at me blankly and sighed, then spoke seriously.
"But… Dark Elves being active in Middle-earth sounds absurd, doesn't it? After all, our homeland lies between their continent and Middle-earth."
I shrugged again.
"Yes, but there's also a vast ocean they can circumvent."
Eryndil frowned.
"But Arda's ocean isn't exactly safe."
I chuckled.
"With the right methods, that ocean can be crossed. And don't forget—Dark Elves use hydras and feral dragons as pets. They even have breeding grounds for them."
Eryndil stared at me, brows deeply furrowed.
"Yes… that's true. Is the White Council aware of this?"
"I believe they are. I informed them by letter back then, so there's no need to get overly tense."
Eryndil nodded and stopped. I stopped beside him. He gestured toward a door.
"You may cleanse yourself here. There is hot water inside. If you value privacy, you may lock the door. I have duties to attend to now—if you'll excuse me."
I nodded and returned his gesture.
"Thank you for your assistance."
As Eryndil walked away, I entered and locked the door. The room was elegantly crafted from marble, five meters wide and seven meters long. In the corner, a copper cauldron rested atop glowing embers, the water inside slowly boiling. From above, fresh water flowed steadily into it. I chuckled.
"A fine mechanism. This way, evaporated water is constantly replaced. If timed perfectly, the water neither overflows nor diminishes."
I calmly undressed and began to wash. When I finished, I sat there for a while, thinking about the Dark Elves Eryndil and I had discussed. This world was far more dangerous than I had anticipated. I murmured softly:
"Druchii… Dark Elves who should not exist in this world, yet have endured since the First Age…"
Heh. I wondered what die-hard Middle-earth fans would think—while Warhammer fans would probably lose their minds. Either way, for me, it meant both entertainment… and a danger that demanded caution.
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Author's Note:
Yes… bad news, my wonderful (and handsome/beautiful) readers. Since it's exam week for me, I'll have to take a one-month break. I'll make it up to you afterward, I promise wish me luck.
Please don't forget to leave comments, drop stones, give ratings, and support me on Patreon. It's a bit late, but I want to sincerely thank everyone who has supported me on Patreon:
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I also want to give a huge thank-you to Imrikderlistige, who has been commenting, encouraging me, and following the story since the very beginning.
And I'm deeply grateful to Austin and Joker D for supporting me at the Supporters tier.
Thank you all for reading. I wish you happy days see you again in one month.