Hiding A Logistics Center In The Apocalypse - Chapter 89

Chapter 89: The Symbol of Resurrection (6)

TL/ED – Miso

“That’s right… Back then, it was truly….”

The elves and druids were biting their lips hard.

Each of them recalled the humiliation they had suffered at the hands of Barnaul.

The abilities of the nature races were unique.

Their souls were bound to nature rather than death,

so unlike the Knights of Camelot, they were able to avoid the disgrace of becoming vengeful spirits and being enslaved by Barnaul.

However, conversely…

“Indeed. Just thinking about that time still fills me with rage.”

They had been subjected to relentless torment under Barnaul’s scrutiny.

This was because they were a special race that could not be subdued through black magic.

Ellie was the first to speak.

“Those bastards set fire to Elvenheim, which was once filled with lush flowers and trees. While we elves were in a panic, they spread curses all over the continent.”

I was well aware of the result.

The Elvenheim continent had withered into a charred wasteland.

I could never erase that desolate scene from my mind.

Even worse…

“They even said they would help put out the fire and sprayed their filthy urine.”

Destroying Elvenheim was not enough.

Barnaul shamelessly flaunted their vile nature, leaving deep scars in the hearts of the elves.

Findrick, the chieftain, nodded his head.

The humiliation suffered by the druids was no less severe.

“It all happened in a single day. Every last World Tree Leaf we had stored in our warehouses… was gone.”

The missing World Tree Leaves.

The culprits were Barnaul’s thieves, and the damage suffered by the druids was far too severe to be considered a mere prank.

“Our entire tribe withered away in less than a day. Then one day, Barnaul’s warlocks suddenly appeared, holding out World Tree Leaves before us…”

But by then, the druids had already fallen under the hallucinations of black magic.

Even though the warlocks were displaying the World Tree right in their palms…

“Driven by illusions, we licked at their feet, at the dirt, like dogs… all while they laughed at us like maniacs.”

Barnaul was merciless.

The druids had resisted becoming slaves to black magic.

Crushing the pride of the druids was merely a way for Barnaul to feed their pathetic ego.

However…

“This time, it will be different.”

Barnaul whom they would meet again.

At my words, Ellie and Findrick nodded their heads in unison.

***

Before I knew it, a week had passed.

Barnaul had spent a busy week constructing Sisyphus and grinding the vengeful spirits of demons into it.

Now, all that remained was to retrieve Camelot as requested by the Inspection Bureau…

“We’re going by ourselves?”

“Yes, Lord Gatz said he would like to look around the museum.”

Gatz had suddenly entrusted the entire mission of recovering Camelot to Vice Commander Malkios.

The adjutant shrugged as if he had no choice.

“Well, it’s Elvenheim, after all.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

The location of Camelot, traced through black magic.

Coincidentally, it was not a place that had originally existed on Earth.

Gatz had checked the records of the European branch headquarters’ consolidation, and the moment he confirmed that the place was Elvenheim, he lost interest completely.

“What fun could there possibly be in a completely ruined dimension?”

Why Camelot was in Elvenheim was unknown.

However, since it was the very place where they had spread curses, Gatz could easily imagine what kind of state Elvenheim must be in by now.

Malkios also found it hard to be particularly interested.

But duty was duty.

As soon as the golden veil was lifted, he led dozens of warlocks through the gate portal.

They soared into the air, mounted on skeletal gargoyles resurrected as undead.

Flap!

Flap, flap!

The decayed wing leather, layered with dark mana, barely managed to support its miserable weight.

A tiny artificial island dragged into the North Pacific.

The warlocks, soaring high above the Elvenheim continent…

“…Huh?”

Boom!

Suddenly, they were pulled down by an unknown gravitational force, crashing into Elvenheim.

Their mouths filled with the gritty sand of the beach.

The warlocks soon realized that their gargoyles were no longer moving.

“What the hell? What’s going on?”

There was no other reason.

The vast nature energy surging from Elvenheim.

The dark mana sustaining the newly revived gargoyles was simply not strong enough to endure it.

“So, Fermegon trash can only manage this much. But more importantly…”

The warlocks took in the changed landscape of Elvenheim, and without exception, they were all struck with shock.

“…This is Elvenheim?”

The curse that had once swept across the continent like a black stain was nowhere to be seen.

All they could see was lush greenery and vibrant waters.

The emotions that arose within Malkios were irritation and disgust.

“This shouldn’t be possible.”

They had made sure to burn everything down to the last sprout.

With every step, they had embedded curses into the land, ensuring that even the slightest tremor from the World Tree would be suppressed.

They had not come to the wrong place.

Their tracking black magic had been consistently detecting Camelot.

That ominous silhouette shimmered beyond the forests of Elvenheim.

In the end, Malkios chose a simple strategy.

Repeating the past.

‘I don’t know what trick they pulled… but all I have to do is burn it down again.’

Malkios led the warlocks into the forest.

Once he judged they had gone deep enough, he snapped his fingers.

“You know what to do. Begin.”

“Understood.”

The warlocks moved in perfect coordination.

Bringing their paired fingers to their lips,

Huff, huff!

They exhaled, producing embers.

Sssssuck…!

Then, drawing in another breath, they condensed dark mana, heating it to a deep red glow.

Sizzle…

Sparks gathered at their fingertips.

Though they appeared insignificant, these embers were the very flames that had once engulfed Elvenheim in fire and ruin.

Flick!

There was no hesitation.

The warlocks of Barnaul snapped their fingers, scattering embers throughout the forest.

Now, all that remained was to sit back and watch the flames consume the woods and the elves come running out in tears and panic…

“…Why isn’t it burning?”

No matter how many embers they tossed or how hard they blew, the flames showed no sign of spreading.

Only then did they finally notice.

The forest was filled almost entirely with a single type of plant.

And…

凸

Hundreds of branches stretched toward them.

At their tips, the leaves were curled into distinct shapes.

The buds, brimming with life energy, refused to ignite, no matter how much dark mana they applied.

.

.

.

“Hah… Hah…”

Vice Commander Malkios revised his strategy.

There was nothing they could do about the gargoyles that had stopped moving.

The entertainment of burning down the forest was also impossible for now.

But despite all that, they still had one crucial mission.

“Forget everything else. We just need to take Camelot and return. Camelot, and nothing more…”

The tracking spell was still active.

The silhouette of Camelot, resting in the heart of the forest, remained visible.

But…

“It feels like it was just within reach…”

No matter how much they walked, their destination did not seem to get any closer.

“Vice Commander…”

The situation was deteriorating.

The radiant light filtering through the dense leaves.

The gentle murmur of a clear stream flowing down the slope.

A few subordinates, unable to endure the unpleasant environment any longer, hastily loosened their belts.

“…I can’t take this anymore!”

The warlocks were already drenched in sweat.

The humiliation of having succumbed to nature wrapped around them like a suffocating shroud…

Swooooosh…

Though it was a rather pathetic method, they attempted to restore their pride as warlocks, symbols of destruction and decay, by pissing on the surrounding landscape.

However…

Plop.

Drip.

As yellow droplets began falling onto their heads,

only then did Vice Commander Malkios realize the truth.

“……”

The image of Camelot they had been chasing all along had been flipped upside down.

In other words, they had been pursuing nothing more than a mirage created by spatial distortion.

The belated realization came hand in hand with the acrid stench of urine.

“Heeheeek!”

The crisp, clean air filled their lungs, driving some of the warlocks halfway into delirium.

As they pissed all over the place, attempted to ignite useless embers at their fingertips, guzzled dark mana potions, and tossed the empty flasks everywhere, engaging in the full display of unruly behavior akin to a group of the worst possible hikers…

Beep! Beep-beep-beep!

Along with the sound of hooves, a whistle rang out from somewhere.

“…What… was that?”

Malkios barely managed to hold onto his fading consciousness.

And what he saw was a druid, wearing a jungle hat and sunglasses, riding on a water deer.

“Why… How is a druid here…?”

A druid who shouldn’t exist.

No, even if they were here, they should be near death without World Tree Leaves.

But the druid standing before them exuded an imposing presence, standing proud.

“Hey, old men, you can’t be doing this here.”

The druid chewed lazily, moving their jaw like a camel.

They began accusing Barnaul of violating the sacred forest’s regulations.

And the punishment delivered was…

“Heeheeheeek!”

“Hiiiiiik!”

The warlocks were granted regeneration.

One by one, they collapsed onto the ground.

Their bodies, long abandoned to decay and erosion through their contracts with darkness,

began sprouting new flesh.

With it came unbearable, excruciating itching.

“Uuuuurghhhh!”

An overwhelming natural counterforce.

This was precisely why they had sought to annihilate the World Tree.

Barnaul could never hope to defeat druids empowered by the World Tree.

And at that moment…

“Those bastards…”

Rustle.

Rustle, rustle.

One by one, innocent-looking elves began emerging from the forest.

They wore the same toothy, carefree smiles as they always had.

They were no different from before.

And yet, just seeing them made an unexplainable rage boil up inside.

“Those elf beggar bastards!”

They could not defeat the druids.

But elves?

Fueled by a blind, vengeful hatred, sworn to at least kill the elves, the warlocks rose to their feet with unyielding determination…

“Die!”

They swung their hands, covered in dark mana.

However,

Smack!

“…Huh?”

The difference was obvious.

As the wind blew, the warlocks’ sleeves were swept back.

And firmly gripping their frail, bony wrists was…

“Why is this… so thick?”

The well-fed, tanned, and muscular arms of elves who had replenished every ounce of their nutrition with PAX FC’s Infinite Vegetable Bibimbap.

“Gotcha.”

A grin.

A gaping, toothless smile.

Hair ruffled into a bird’s nest as if they had just woken up.

A streak of white snot running diagonally across their chubby cheeks.

Their appearance radiated an innocent, earthy scent, as if fermented soybean paste itself had come to life…

“A… Aaaaagh…!”

For the warlocks, it evoked the exact opposite emotion.

Fear.

“Aaaaaargh!”

Without distinction between allies and foes, they all scattered in utter panic.

However, elves appeared like Tarzan, grabbing the warlocks by the hair as if pulling out radishes. Even if some managed to escape, they would either be dragged back by the spatial distortion or misstep and meet their end through an unfortunate fall.

“This can’t be happening…”

Meanwhile, Malkios was filled with resentment.

No matter how powerful nature was, the cycle of life and death should always be in balance.

The denser a forest, the more it should contain an environment suitable for extracting dark mana through death.

But…

“What the hell is this monstrous place?!”

There was no death in this forest.

A space entirely sustained by the life force of the World Tree.

Filled with boundless vitality, Elvenheim acted as a sterile chamber where a disease like Barnaul could not take root.

“Hah… Hah!”

Malkios ran.

Dodging the druids’ regeneration.

Evading the elves’ purification and their overwhelming strength.

Minutes passed as he fled…

Was the God of Death trying to grant him salvation?

Tap! Tap!

At last, he encountered what he had been desperately searching for.

“I found it! If I have this…!”

Amidst the underbrush, a beast lay collapsed, pale and lifeless.

It resembled a deer but wasn’t quite a deer, an awkward-looking creature.

But its species didn’t matter.

Decay and death were assets to warlocks.

At last, in this vast wilderness, he had found his weapon.

Ssssss…

Drawing upon the dark mana from deep within,

he whispered a wicked incantation between his lips.

“Rise.”

Thud!

The reaction was immediate.

The beast lifted its body.

With moist, shimmering eyes, it gazed at the master who had revived it…

-Keeeeeaaaaaaaagh!

“Holy fuck!”

Letting out an ungodly shriek, the creature made the warlock fall flat on his rear.

Clatter, clatter.

Screeching in horror, the water deer bolted away.

Malkios could only stare in shock at the sight of the deer bouncing off into the distance.

“……”

Thud.

He buried his face in his hands.

There truly wasn’t a single trace of death in Elvenheim.

***

“Handing over the World Tree was worth it.”

After observing the battle in Elvenheim, I had reached my conclusion.

Barnaul would never be able to break through Elvenheim armed with the power of the World Tree.

With the elves and druids fighting as they were, I no longer needed to worry about Camelot.

Of course…

“It’s not over yet.”

Whirrrr.

I stood before the portal leading to Europe.

Alongside Lancelot and the Twelve Knights of Camelot.

It wasn’t just the elves and druids who had a score to settle with Barnaul.

“…Let’s go.”

At my signal, the Knights of Camelot all nodded in unison.

To collect on an old debt.

****

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