The caravan moved at a viciously slow pace. It was worse than what we expected. The roads were narrow and ill-maintained, and our carts were simply too big and heavy. Every kilometer or so, we encountered a problem and came to a halt.
Most of the time, it was a wheel getting stuck in the mud, a protruding root, or a jutting piece of rock. Sometimes, it was the carts themselves breaking under the load.
Even more unexpected, some of the elves grew tired. We hadn't anticipated how inconsistent the sunlight would be throughout the journey. There were long patches of the trail completely covered by canopy, and clouds periodically dimmed the day. The air grew heavy in those shaded stretches, and the damp soil sapped our momentum even further.
"I don't think we're going to reach there on time, Your Highness. Forgive me, but I might have miscalculated," Maelor informed me late in the afternoon of our first day on the road. We had traveled a measly ten kilometers from the village.
And indeed, we had miscalculated—but in more ways than one. While we marched at a disappointing speed during the day, Maelor had not considered that we could continue to travel at night. They had night vision, and their nightly vampiric boost was not reliant on steady moonlight. Which meant they could actually perform better than during the day.
Maelor had them rest during the first few hours into the night. When their strength was replenished, we continued our journey in the darkness, to the music of frogs and insects echoing through the undergrowth. The air was cooler and the path clearer beneath their keen eyes.
And just as I had thought, our caravan moved a lot smoother and faster. Before the night even ended, we were already halfway.
Because of how slow the caravan was, I often went ahead, using my bat transformation to fly over the narrow terrain. The smoke from distant chimneys revealed to me the elven village that Maelor had spoken of.
It was a much larger settlement—perhaps double in size—but while it was large, it did not have the neatness of Maelor's village. There was less care in the layout, making it look more like a typical human village.
The houses, though still showing traces of elven design, were dilapidated. The wooden walls around it displayed hasty and half-hearted attempts at repair. Moss clung to the corners and sections of palisade leaned from neglect. It was actually depressing to look at.
And I think I knew why it was in such a state. This part of the forest was tormented by the same scourge I had just vanquished for Maelor's folk. Serpents abounded. The hiss and slithering reached my ears even from above. The village, being a bigger target, would have suffered more attacks.
There must be a serpent's nest nearby. The thrill of that slaughter I made of the serpents several days ago returned to my bones. Frans' instincts were taking over again. It was pushing me to take flight and start the search for the nest at once.
The urge suddenly subsided, releasing me from its suffocating hold. The night had ended. On the horizon, an orange glow heralded the arrival of the sun.
[+1 SE]
[+1 SE]
[+1 SE]
[You have gained 100,000 Solar Essence]
[You have leveled up]
[Maximum Solar Essence Set At 1,000,000]
[You have gained passive skill: Sunspore]
[Description:
When Solar Essence is high, faint motes of radiant energy drift from your skin. These particles subtly emit low-level radiant warmth which encourages growth and recovery in nearby lifeforms. Doesn't work at night.]
[You have gained active skill: Daypulse]
[Description:
Releases a radiant wave of solar essence within a ten-meter radius. Restores moderate health to allies and inflicts damage to hostiles. The damage is doubled against shadow-aligned creatures.
Cost: 10 Solar Essence (Initial Burst) / -2 Solar Essence per second (Sustained)]
For the first time, the skills weren't as exciting—and I did not need them to be. My current arsenal of combat abilities, I think, would be sufficient for most threats. Even if I did not learn another combat skill again, I would still be overpowered, especially with Frans' battle instincts.
I got buff skills—both the passive and active versions. Given the grueling trudge of our journey, the timing couldn't have been better.
"Ah! You're glowing!"
I almost jumped out of the branch when I heard the voice. Although I had sharp senses, I could still be taken by surprise, especially by friendly creatures when distracted.
The caravan had caught up with me. The squeaking of the wheels and the rattle of scales had grown loud in my ears.
I turned, and was not surprised at all that it was Lysandra again. She never failed to impress me with how light-footed she was. The branch barely moved when she landed.
She was referring to the motes that now floated around me, all thanks to the [Sunspore] skill. I didn't like the aesthetics. Give me a wand and a pair of wings, and I would look like a fairy.
"What is it now?" I asked her.
She smiled and produced a jasmine flower from behind her back. "This looks like you, do you not think so, Your Highness?"
The flower was a common jasmine—white petals with yellow pollen sacs. I had blonde hair and wore a white robe. I shared the same color scheme, but being compared to a flower did not sit well even for Patrice. For Frans, the vampire lord, there were few insults worse than being compared to an unassuming, small jasmine flower.
Before I knew it, my leg was moving. I kicked her in the side. She fell from the branch, hit a pile of scales on a passing cart below, bounced off, and landed on the ground face-first.
The passing elves laughed. A few days ago, such a kick would have broken bones. As an elven vampire, it was no different from a playful punch to the arm.
I watched as the caravan headed toward the village. The guards immediately recognized Maelor, who was leading at the forefront. The gates opened, and most of the elves went in, leaving behind a group to guard the carts.
I remained on the tree, watching through my telescopic vision and sharp hearing. The villagers who were just waking opened their doors and windows to a pleasant surprise. From their greetings alone, I gathered that Maelor's folk weren't only friends but relatives.
The village chief, who I heard was called Fenlor, greeted Maelor with a hug—so excitedly that he was still in his night attire.
For the first few moments, it was the typical, dull reunion between close brothers.
Then came the mood change I had predicted. Out of the hug, Fenlor caught sight of his brother's eyes. He paused, studied Maelor's face again as if to be sure, and then fearfully stepped back.
"What happened to you, Maelor? Something's changed. Something horrible," he said, voice trembling. "Are you even my brother?"
"Who am I else, brother? You have known me for hundreds of years. You can't mistake me for any other, and I you," Maelor replied, trying to approach, but Fenlor only retreated.
Fenlor shook his head. "No, you're not my brother anymore!"
"Demons! To arms! These are not elves! They are demons!" he shouted.
The villagers at once scattered, running to their homes. When they emerged, they carried with them cold steel. Maelor and his party did not know what to do.
I sighed. He was confident he could convince his brother. He would need my intervention after all.