Asia was the daughter of the chief of a small Dark Elf clan.
However, at that moment, she was far from possessing the dignified appearance that should have been hers.
Her body was covered in wounds, her clothes torn and stained. Her disheveled state was not the result of negligence, but of violence.
The cause had a name… or rather, an uncertain origin.
A group of Pigmen.
At first, no one knew where they came from or why. They simply appeared one day, like a silent plague. They brought disturbing stories with them: they claimed to pray to a god no one had ever heard of and wielded a strange supernatural power.
They did not possess the traditional mana core.
Instead, they practiced something different.
Within their bodies, they formed what they called a Monster Crystal—an aberrant structure that granted them great power without the need for meditation or arcane discipline.
They presented themselves in several nearby villages as representatives of that unknown god, demanding submission.
At first, they only issued warnings. They recounted their feats, demonstrated their strength, and attempted to intimidate them.
But when no one yielded—even though the idea of that new and innovative mana system could have been tempting, the Dark Elves already had their own system, so they refused—the Pigmen did not take it well.
When they saw their offer rejected, they began imposing their will by force. And not just against them—many other clans, whether Dark Elves or other races, suffered the same fate. If they refused to join and accept this new power system, they were attacked without mercy.
At first, the Dark Elf villages united and managed to repel them. It seemed the threat had been contained.
But everything changed when one Dark Elf clan gave in and joined that perverse group.
Their forces increased brutally.
The counterattack was fierce. One by one, the Dark Elf villages and nearby settlements of other races began to fall.
Rumors spread that even some werewolf clans had been defeated—at the hands of the very Dark Elves who had joined the enemy.
Soon, Asia's own village was among those that fell.
Her father died fighting, buying with his life enough time for her and a small group of survivors to escape.
After days of constant pursuit, exhausted and on the verge of collapse, they finally managed to lose their enemies.
They thought it was over.
That was when the goblins appeared.
Small, ugly, lustful creatures.
At first, the group did not take them seriously.
That was their greatest mistake.
They had forgotten they were no longer at their best—but that was not the main reason.
Before they could even react, a strange pink mist suddenly began spreading through the area. It was thick, sweet, impossible to ignore.
The shock lasted only seconds.
One by one, the Dark Elf women in the group began to fall.
Their bodies trembled, their breathing grew erratic, and a dangerous gleam appeared in their eyes.
The symptoms were obvious.
It was as if they had consumed a powerful aphrodisiac.
The strange part was that many of them possessed mana cores. Under normal conditions, spending a small amount of mana would be enough to purge any poison or foreign substance.
But this time, it did not work.
Then they understood.
The mist was not a poison.
It was an ability.
Though it was strange that someone would possess such an ability—much less an insignificant creature like a goblin—the answer stood before them, and there was no choice but to accept it.
Suddenly, as if illuminated by the same thought, an idea struck all the elves present at once.
Terror seized them as they remembered an ancient legend, a story told only in whispers.
A Goblin King.
The fear of all women.
The few men in the group who had managed to escape earlier were already physically and mentally exhausted, their mana drained from the previous chase. They attempted a counterattack. Their objective was clear: kill the Goblin King first and try to break the strange ability.
But the Goblin King was cunning.
He remained protected, hidden behind his subordinates, watching from a safe position.
Every attempt was useless.
One by one, the men began to fall, overwhelmed by the sheer number of goblins.
The women, being Dark Elves and not yet fully overtaken for long, managed to recover slightly. With the last trace of rationality they possessed, they made a desperate decision.
They began to take their own lives.
They preferred death over being humiliated by such lowly, grotesque creatures.
Seeing this, the goblins erupted in fury and tried to stop them.
But the remaining men, knowing they would not survive, did everything they could to buy time.
"To die with dignity… rather than allow a low race to stain our honor."
Asia was about to do the same.
The sword trembled in her hand. At the last second, she hesitated.
The fear of death—the thought of dying—made her hands tremble uncontrollably.
That instant was enough for the Goblin King to act.
He ran as fast as he could and stopped her. Then he grabbed a rusted sword and struck her at the back of the neck with its hilt.
Before losing consciousness, Asia gathered all her remaining strength and mana and managed to deliver a direct blow to his armpit. The strike wounded him severely.
The Goblin King's fury was immediate.
Not only because of the injury… but because, after everything, he had only managed to capture one female alive.
He wanted to humiliate her right there, to unleash his rage in that very moment.
But he restrained himself.
Though many consider goblins lowly, weak creatures ruled by lust, they are not fools—they are far more cunning than they appear.
He knew remaining there exposed could be dangerous.
He suppressed his anger and desire and gave the order to retreat.
First, they would return safely to their lair.
And there… he could humiliate the Dark Elf as much as he pleased and claim her as his captive.
At that thought, the Goblin King licked his dry lips, anticipation filling his eyes as he looked at the unconscious Dark Elf.