Chapter 441 The Non-existent Possibility

With the disappearance of that presence, the darkness throughout the underground space seemed to fade. Countless Delusional Plant People and Spore People prostrated themselves on the ground in all sorts of bizarre, indescribable poses, their heads tilted at strange angles as they stared malevolently at Ron and his party.

They crowded around their temporary master.

The Elf, his eyes pitch-black with no visible sclera, tilted his head. His pointed ears twitched, and then a huge, grotesque smile split his face below his nose, stretching all the way to the base of his ears, heedless of the flesh tearing in the process.

He wore the same clothes Ron had last seen his real self in—back in that underground cave—only now they were pristine, free of the dirt and blood from before. This "reanimated" Elf unhooked the rapier from his waist, held it level, and pointed it straight at Ron’s throat.

"Long time no see, hee hee hee..."

A CRACKING sound traveled up from his tailbone, growing louder as it reached his cervical vertebrae. It was as if an invisible hand had forcibly snapped his neck into several different angles, leaving him in a posture as bizarre as the long-dead plants on the ground.

"You know, my body is like a whorehouse. Anyone can come use it and control it as they please, except for me. I can’t control a single bit of it. Interesting, so very interesting."

The Elf leaped forward, closing the distance with a swaggering, unnatural gait. Anyone with weapons training could tell that "Ming Datiss" was using some kind of agile footwork meant to complement upper-body swordsmanship. However, because he exuded an aura of bizarreness, both mystically and physically, his steps resembled those of a drunken zombie—disjointed yet stiff, rigid yet random.

"Come on, what are you afraid of?" Ming Datiss staggered forward in a rush, his rapier striking out as swiftly as a viper. But its path was intercepted by the Hell Angel’s Zither in Victoria’s hands. With a dull THUD, the Priest’s expression changed, and she stumbled back several steps before managing to steady herself.

"Such incredible force!" The Priest’s expression was grim. Her words were both an expression of her own surprise and a warning to her companions.

"What, when you chose this guy back in town, did you ever imagine this day would come?" Ming Datiss let out a series of chilling, bizarre laughs. He didn’t press the attack, instead leaping back in a cat-and-mouse fashion, keeping a certain distance from Ron and the others.

"If you had stood on my side back then, things would be completely different for you now! How long have you been running around with this guy? You can’t even block a single strike from a dead man?"

"Rather than a dead man, you’re more like a marionette for anyone to control," Ron said, staring at the Elf and trying to discern its true form. The Gray Mist should have appeared by now, but its continued absence forced Ron to be on his highest alert.

This creature was likely no ordinary Undead or resurrected being. The Banker’s methods, he feared, were not so simple.

"Look at yourself. Do you really think you’re in a good state? Or that serving your master leads to a good end?" Ron said slowly, sizing him up. "What about your previous servants? Those bandits? Where have they all gone?"

"I still remember that Dwarf who followed you. He was so loyal, but you showed no humanity and abandoned him without a second thought."

The smile on the Elf’s face faltered slightly, but the moment Ron finished speaking, it stretched to twice its previous size. "Hah hah... oh yeah, yeah, yeah, you’re totally right!"

"Ron, you’re the victor—at least, the victor who defeated me—so of course, everything you say is right! Hee hee hee hee!"

"But let me ask you, is there anything wrong with how I am now? Is it worse than when I was beaten to death by you—beaten to death by some wet-behind-the-ears rookie?! Are you saying I should have just stayed that way, rotting in the ground?!"

"I’ve lived a good long while. I considered myself worldly and wise, one of the finest among adult Elves. But I never expected that when it comes to being a hypocrite, you’re far more skilled than I am!"

Two streams of foul, stinking liquid welled up in those obsidian-like eyes and trickled into Ming Datiss’s widely torn mouth. "Everything that’s happened to me today is your fault! If you hadn’t killed me, how could I have ended up in this state?!"

"You were fully armed back then, and I was completely out of Magic. We both fought with what we had. I don’t see anything unfair about it," Ron said coolly. "But I’m not talking about that moment. The truth is, you could have stayed out of this whole mess, couldn’t you?"

"Why did the Hailan Empire fall? Why is it despised by the entire world? As one of its staunchest supporters, a well-educated nobleman, you should have known that everything you were doing was meaningless, right?"

"So what if you had found Baron Salan’s treasure? So what if you had found Jilannis? Even if you and that Baron had restored the Hailan Empire, it would have been annihilated all over again! Humans might forget the sins it committed over a century ago, but the Dwarves won’t, the Half-Elves won’t, the Dwarf won’t, and the Elves certainly won’t!"

"You could have lived your entire life as an Elf, in any way you wanted! But you didn’t! You chose to stand here, grinning foolishly at me! You chose to say ’oh yeah, yeah, yeah’ while all you really want is to kill me and turn me into the same kind of monster you’ve become!"

"I’m just a short-lived creature with a lifespan of barely a hundred years, who happened to come into this world by chance and cross paths with you! This was all your own choice, so don’t you dare try to pin the blame on me!"

"My choice? Did I have a choice?!" Ron’s words didn’t seem to move the long-dead Elf; instead, they ignited a ferocious rage within him. "I was born in that empire! Born into that family! I was burdened with a mission and duty before I even drew my first breath! I have noble blood flowing through my veins! I was supposed to bear the responsibility of its revival! All of this was destined from the moment I was born!"

"You tell me, did I have a choice?!"

The Elf shrieked himself hoarse, but it didn’t faze Ron in the slightest. The young human looked him straight in the eye and slowly nodded. "Yes, you did."

"There are nobles born to power who wish only to see the poor and downtrodden stand tall. There are traitors in service to a foreign power who secretly work to reclaim their homeland’s sovereignty from their overlords. An individual can betray the class they were born into. Why can’t they?"

"If humans can do this, why couldn’t you, with your long life, do it? Why couldn’t you think of it, or see it? If you only live to be driven by others, to follow a predetermined path from birth to death, sharing the fate of a poisonous flower—flourishing when it flourishes, withering when it withers—then what difference is there between a seven-hundred-year lifespan and one of seventy years, or even seven?"

As Ron spread his hands, the Elf Mercenary beside him shot him an appreciative glance. She then turned her head toward the bizarre, still-grinning Elf. "The Lord is right. Your name is... Ming Datiss, correct? You should have had a choice."

"I am living proof. I’m glad I chose this path and didn’t sink with the rest of you. In fact, I can even send you on your way and correct the mistakes made by my father and his fathers before him."

"You’re... one of the rebels?" Ming Datiss’s gaze swept sinisterly over Anastina. "His Majesty gave you glory and riches, granted you your freedom and countless opportunities..."

"You traitor!"

"But, no matter." The Elf’s neck twisted through three or four more angles as he fixed his cold gaze on Ron. "I knew from the beginning that our perspectives are fundamentally different. A war of words will lead to nothing."

"I don’t intend to continue discussing these matters with you. I only have one thing to say."

In an instant, the smile on Ming Datiss’s face vanished into a cold mask. The wounds torn open by his manic laughter disappeared as if they had never existed. "Fight me again. I will have my revenge for you killing me, with my own two hands."