I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 812: True Nature

“He will appreciate what’s left,” Ren replied smoothly, his eyes scanning the far wall of the cavern. “Look.”

At the absolute lowest point of the processing hall, set deep into the bedrock where the red demons had dug their foundations, sat a massive, shattered archway.

The red demons hadn’t built this lowest floor. They had merely broken through to it.

Ren, Pho, and the Dark Elf Commander walked to the edge of the shattered bedrock overlook and looked down into the vast, lightless abyss below.

Stretching out beneath them for miles, buried beneath the roots of Caeloria, was a staggering, ancient metropolis.

Massive, light-absorbing obsidian spires rose from the subterranean floor, their architecture grand, terrifying, and distinctly dark elven.

Intricate, glowing blue runes pulsed rhythmically across the ancient walls, carrying a primordial deep-sea mana that felt completely untainted by the red demons’ crude corruption.

At the absolute center of the sunken valley stood a colossal, multi-tiered fortress that eclipsed everything around it: The Main Citadel of the Ancient Dark Elves.

The ancient architecture was pristine, preserved for millennia in the deep dark, waiting for its true masters to reclaim it.

But surrounding the citadel’s glowing gates were thousands of massive footprints and deep, arctic frost patterns.

Proof that the Blue Demon Jack sought had fortified himself within the ancient throne room at the very heart of the citadel.

Pho let out a low, whistled breath, his dark eyes reflecting the faint blue glow of the distant fortress. “Well, damn. Look at that.”

Ren stood at the edge of the overlook, his sheathed katana resting against his hip, his sharp blue eyes fixed on the distant citadel with absolute, unyielding calm.

“The factory is secured,” Ren said, his voice carrying clearly over the deep, ancient hum of the subterranean city.

———–

The silence lingering over the subterranean overlook did not last.

It couldn’t. Down in the vast, lightless abyss, the deep-sea mana radiating from the ancient dark elven citadel didn’t merely hum; it thrummed.

It began to pulse with a heavy, rhythmic cadence, making the stone beneath their boots vibrate.

From the shadow of the colossal obsidian spires surrounding the throne room, figures began to emerge.

Dozens of them. These were not the common red thralls from the processing floor, nor were they standard foot soldiers.

They were Disaster-class Abyssal Sentinels.

Fourteen-foot tall, four-armed monstrosities encased in crusted, arctic-blue plate armor, their eyes glowing with the same chilling light as the creature waiting in the depths.

They moved in terrifying, mechanical synchronization, wielding massive, triple-pronged halberds that crackled with condensed, dark blue lightning.

They were stepping out onto the grand causeway, forming an advancing, unstoppable wall aimed directly at the bedrock breach.

Pho stared down at the army of Disaster-class beasts, and the cold, measured discipline he had maintained during the factory raid completely evaporated.

His pale blue skin flushed as his deathfrost magic spiked violently, jagged icicles sprouting from his massive shoulders like a crown of frozen spikes. His eyes dilated, his chest heaving as a deep, feral rumble built in his throat.

“Fourteen Disaster-class auras,” Pho growled, his voice dropping into a raspy, unhinged purr. “Fourteen of ’em, Ren. Standing in a neat little line just waiting to be smashed.”

Ren didn’t turn his head. His sharp blue eyes were locked onto a secondary structure attached to the western wall of the ancient cavern.

A massive, iron-grated reservoir where thousands of unconscious captives were suspended in cages, their life force actively being siphoned by glowing, crimson conduits to keep the lower factory’s distillation vats primed.

“There are still three thousand civilians being drained in the secondary reservoir,” Ren said, his voice flat, completely devoid of excitement. “If those conduits aren’t severed within minutes, their souls will collapse into pure essence. We need to secure the cages and collect any evidence.”

Pho let out a harsh, booming laugh that echoed off the cavern roof. “Sounds like a great job for a you! I’m going to go break some heads!”

Before Ren could even issue a flat counter-command, Pho didn’t just step off the ledge.

He drove his boots into the stone, shattering the bedrock overlook, and dived headfirst into the lightless abyss below.

He plummeted over two hundred feet through the open air, a howling blizzard of absolute-zero deathfrost wrapping around his massive frame like a falling meteor.

Ren watched the brute fall, a faint, tiny twitch of annoyance pulling at the corner of his eye. He let out a quiet, exhaled sigh, his thumb remaining anchored against the guard of his sheathed katana.

“Idiot,” Ren muttered softly.

He turned his attention to the Dark Elf Commander standing beside him. The commander was still maintaining his rigid, pristine posture.

His white articulated armor unblemished, his lightless black eyes fixed forward, his expression a mask of noble, stoic solemnity as he held his white tower spear.

Ren looked at the commander for a long, silent second.

“You can drop the act,” Ren said flatly, his voice cutting through the distant sound of Pho’s roaring descent. “Maelor isn’t here. There are no high-born surface elves down here to impress with your noble phalanx discipline.”

The Dark Elf Commander froze.

Slowly, the rigid, righteous posture dissolved. The commander’s shoulders dropped, slumping into a loose, hunched position.

The stoic, unreadable mask on his dark face shattered, replaced by an unhinged, terrifying grin that stretched so wide his cheeks creaked under the pressure.

His pitch-black, lightless eyes crinkled with pure, unadulterated malice, and a low, raspy snicker escaped his throat.

A wet, unsettling sound that revealed the true, unhinged nature of a species that had been revived to change the world.

“Ah, General,” the commander chuckled, his voice dropping an octave into a dark, sibilant purr, his white-gloved fingers twitching maniacally against the shaft of his spear.

“You’re no fun at all. Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to stand like a statue and pretend we’re civilized? My spine was about to snap.”

“Take three hundred soldiers and secure the western reservoir,” Ren instructed smoothly, ignoring the commander’s sudden shift in sanity. “Sever the conduits, secure the ledgers, and stabilize the captives. If a single ledger burns, I will sever your arms.”

“Understood, General!” the commander cackled, his smile widening until his pointed white teeth gleamed in the dim blue light.

He turned back toward his two hundred remaining vanguard troops, his eyes flashing with manic excitement.

“You heard the ghost! Three hundred of you go babysit the surface cattle with Ren! The rest of you chaotic bastards… we’re going hunting!”

The remaining two hundred dark elves didn’t issue a disciplined, noble military nod. They let out a chorus of high-pitched, feral shrieks and hysterical laughter, their stoic military formation instantly collapsing into a wild, disorganized swarm of bloodthirsty lunatics.

The commander didn’t bother using the access ramps. He let out a wild, cackling howl, flipped backward off the bedrock overlook, and dived into the dark abyss right behind Pho, his two hundred dark elves vaulting off the cliff after him like a wave of white-armored gargoyles.

Ren watched the two hundred cackling dark elves rain down into the abyss, his expression remaining entirely unreadable.