I Bloom in the Midst of Slaughter, Like a Flower at Dawn

Intense pain swept through the master's body.

The archmage felt a chill run down his spine.

That strike was precise and exquisite.

In an instant, Laclais's eyes widened and bulged, his face filled with boundless fear.

Unable to speak or move.

He couldn't even utter a cry for help, nor did he have the strength to activate the magical equipment he was wearing. This place was shrouded in the anti-magic domain of the Holy Seal Archipelago, and he had no way to unleash his powerful and terrifying magical power.

Moreover... even without the magic-suppressing domain, after taking this blow, he probably wouldn't be able to mobilize his magic power.

Elves resemble humans in appearance, but they are actually quite different, especially spellcasters. They circulate and manage their magical power, forming a new system within their bodies that is distinct from blood circulation. This means that even if a skilled spellcaster is completely immobilized, they can still launch a counterattack against their enemies.

But this strike was incredibly precise, hitting the vital point—the elf's vital point.

It not only rendered him unable to speak or move, but it also halted the flow of magical power and even interfered with the condensation of the mental energy...

Only assassins who specifically target elven spellcasters possess such skills.

Upon discovering this, Laclais's fear swelled to its peak, even surpassing his fear of death... He almost immediately guessed the assassin's identity.

Not human, absolutely not human. How could a lowly human being be qualified to master such a skill?

But... why?

What... did I do wrong?

Why... why would Her Majesty the Empress's Shadow Blade Unit target me?

Shouldn't I have broken the taboo of the Holy Seal Archipelago?

Death is approaching, life is rapidly fading, and a long life is about to come to an end. At this moment, even elves with longer lifespans would be filled with mixed emotions, let alone those who are not dying of old age.

The fear of death, the reluctance to part with life, the nascent Arcane path, the unrevealed mysteries of the Holy Seal Archipelago, endless regrets, and questions.

But a mage is still a mage, and an elf is still an elf.

Death itself is not so frightening; what is frightening is dying in ignorance and confusion.

At the last moment, Master Laclais mustered his last bit of life and will, exerted all his strength, pushed his physical limits, and slowly turned his head. He wanted to see the assassin's face clearly, and at least solve one mystery.

If the other person were also an elf, they would understand his thoughts and wouldn't stop him from turning his head.

As expected, they didn't stop it.

The other person allowed him to turn his head.

Otherwise, a mere twist of the dagger would instantly take his life.

Master Laclais turned his head with difficulty.

The assassin showed him a reflection of himself.

A bird flew onto his shoulder, turned its head, and met his gaze.

The Parrot, a gift from Sir Taize, was said to be from Parrot Holy Seal Archipelago. It looked so elegant and beautiful that it should have been in the bedroom of some elven socialite, not at this murder scene.

But Laclais knew that this was the assassin who would take his life.

Because the other party was clearly a bird, yet it gazed at him calmly with a deep gaze that stirred his soul.

The master's eyes looked even more lost.

What... happened?

He slowly opened his mouth, and a trickle of blood began to flow. His handsome face was filled with struggle and resentment. He wanted to speak, but he couldn't utter a single word. His eyes grew increasingly painful, and his expression became more and more ferocious.

Suddenly, the Parrot spoke.

It was an ancient Elvish language, more ancient and noble than the current Elvish common language, understood only by scholars, nobles, and royalty, which Laclais happened to be able to understand.

The Parrot's voice was deep and fluent, its words sounding like a poem.

"Born from the forest, nurtured by pride, watered by tears, buried by arrogance, sleep peacefully, child of nature, this is where you rest forever."

Master Laclais's eyes flickered violently. He understood the words and realized something. Even in the final lesson of his life, with most of his life force gone, his body still trembled and struggled violently, spitting out mouthfuls of blood.

"You... you are..."

With a hoarse voice, as if tearing at his soul, filled with extreme shock and disbelief, the elven mage collapsed to the ground, completely lifeless.

The dagger he had retrieved from the Holy Seal Archipelago was stuck in his back.

Fresh blood slowly spread out from beneath him.

The Parrot flew up as he fell, then landed on his body, looked down at the corpse, and remained silent for a while, whether in remembrance or in prayer, it was unclear.

Then it drew its dagger, grabbed the other's clothes with its claws, flapped its wings, and flipped the corpse over. It searched the body thoroughly, from rings to necklaces, from headdresses to amulets. Small items were strung together with necklaces and hung on the body, while larger items were placed in a box in the room. Its movements were much more skillful than Miss Fulan's.

After doing all this, he flew to the magic platform, opened the reinforced cabinet, observed it for a moment, took out several bottles and jars, mixed them on the magic platform, and then placed the finished product under Laclais.

As if it felt uneasy again, it tore off a piece of cloth from the master's clothes, crumpled it into a ball, dipped it in blood, and wrote the Chinese character "danger" on the back of the elf.

Then it locked the hatch, left through the narrow window, and closed the window.

And just like that, the case of the locked-room monster killing was solved.

The Parrot immediately flew to the captain's cabin, pried open the window, and slipped inside.

The captain was lucky to be alive. At that moment, he and Sir Taize were on their way to search for the "ancient ruins." A squire on duty in the captain's cabin heard the noise, turned around, and saw a Parrot fly in through the window. He was startled.

The Parrot swooped down like an eagle and tore open his throat with a single claw.

Blood splattered, and the attendant fell to his knees, making gurgling sounds.

The Parrot bypassed the spurting blood, surveyed the layout of the captain's cabin, its gaze lingering for a moment on places like boxes and weapon racks, and then it got a sense of what was going on.

He found the ship's roster in the bookcase on the left side of the captain's cabin.

The Wings of Wayne is the flagship of the elves, and all the crew members are pure-blooded elves, the most disciplined of the disciplined. They would never just randomly recruit men from prisons, taverns, or even the streets to be sailors. Every crew member has undergone professional training, comes from a good family, has high morale, and is all registered in the military.

That's great news.

The Parrot grabbed the thick roster and carried it to the captain's desk. Standing in front of the roster, it raised a claw and turned the soft pages, which contained information about every crew member, starting with the captain, along with very realistic portraits.

It read through the pages one by one.

I read through all the information on officer-level crew members.

Then it spread its wings and began to speak.

This time, it wasn't the obscure and difficult ancient Elvish language that was spoken, but a sentence in Chinese.

"I bloom amidst the carnage, like a flower at dawn."

It squawked and flew out of the captain's cabin.

Meanwhile, the captain and Sir Taize's elven forces had arrived at the mysterious rift.

Sir Taize gave the signal, and the well-trained Marines dispersed, beginning to search for high ground for surveillance under the command of his adjutant, Mailun.

The captain asked, "Are you sure this is the place?"

Sir Taize nodded. "No doubt about it. There's a lingering scent of fire and light in the air... and even a faint smell of sulfur."

The captain's expression suddenly changed. "... Purgatory?"

Sir Taize's gaze fell on the rift. "I don't know... but I know everything is related to this rift. I sensed an uneasy atmosphere, and the Goth People have already gone down."

He pointed to the edge of the rift valley. "There are quite a few traces left by climbing tools here."

The captain narrowed his eyes. "But there's no one guarding this place... Are they hiding? Are the Goth People still down there? Could this be a trap?"

Sir Taize asked, "And what do you mean? Forgive my boldness, but if I were you, I would set up camp here and be on guard. If any Goth People dare to show their faces, shoot them dead."

The captain said with a wry smile, "But the master will definitely be furious."

"Yes... sometimes it's hard to understand what a spellcaster is thinking," the Marine Corps captain complained, then added, "But we mustn't act rashly, that's my position... please make the decision."

"I..."

Before the captain could speak, a loud noise suddenly came from the rift.

A deep, resonant voice recited the poem with great emotion.

They chanted in a language the elves couldn't understand.

"This... this is a language I've never heard before!" The elves exchanged bewildered glances. "And this tone of voice could never have come from an ordinary being!"

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PS1: First update... The second update will be a little later, everyone go to sleep now.