Chapter 308: Celebration and the Demihuman Allied Forces

Elvin Village welcomed yet another celebration banquet.

The last celebration was held when the hero party first repelled the invaders, but this time, it was to bring a definitive end to this brief yet cruel war.

Bonfires roared as the Stayans held hands, dancing in circles around the flames while laughter and cheers echoed throughout the village.

Everyone discussed the dangers of the battle and the desperate counterattack in the final moments, their gazes occasionally drifting toward the main table at the edge of the plaza—where the tribal elders were hosting their most distinguished guests.

The distinguished guests were, of course, the Echoes of Truth.

To the outside world, the cult operated under the identity of the Northern Magic Mutual Aid Association, a legal organization from Norvigel.

The atmosphere at the main table was lively. Professor Duncan was being toasted repeatedly by the enthusiastic hosts, his face flushed red from the alcohol.

“The professor truly has a legendary tolerance! It’s simply admirable!”

Dwarves were naturally heavy drinkers, and Professor Duncan couldn't resist a bit of flattery. As the crowd praised him, his beard curled upward with pride.

“Of course!” Professor Duncan laughed heartily. “When it comes to drinking, not a single dwarf in the entire Iron Hill Kingdom could outdrink me back in the day! You have no idea how legendary I was!”

“Is that so! Then we must toast the professor again! Come, fill it up!”

Nearby, Eddie and Leon watched the professor down glass after glass, their expressions gradually turning uneasy.

Do we... have to keep up with that?

On the other side, Valger, who had never been much of a drinker, could only wave his hands frantically in the face of the Stayans' hospitality, wishing he could find a corner to hide in.

Amidst the eager and respectful gazes of those around them, Elder Barnes and Elder Matthew shared a silent look.

As veterans of the cult, they were filled with a mix of complex emotions.

When had their evil cult, spurned by the world and hidden in the shadows for years, ever been so sincerely loved by the people?

However... although the cult had saved the North, the two knew very well that their original intention was merely to use this war as a live-fire exercise for their newly developed magitech weaponry and to gather data. Saving these demihumans, whom they had previously looked down upon, was merely a side effect.

“The Hermit actually did it...” Barnes couldn't help but sigh.

From the moment those two took over the cult and led everyone step by step to this day, they had truly fulfilled that original promise to 'turn the tables.'

Before this, no one would have dared to imagine that the declining cult could develop into what it was now.

Matthew couldn't help but mutter in a low voice, “I just feel like... under the Hermit's guidance, we’re straying further and further from the cult’s original doctrine...”

“If this keeps up, we’re practically going to become saviors! We’re doing exactly what our arch-rivals, the Church of Holy Light, are supposed to do...”

Barnes shot him a sidelong glance. “Don't tell me you’d rather go back to hiding in the gutters, being wanted across the entire continent, and enjoying the thrill of a life in the shadows?”

Matthew instinctively nodded. “Well, yeah...”

But seeing Barnes’s shocked expression, Elder Matthew immediately shook his head.

“No, no! Who would actually like that kind of life? Who doesn't want to live openly in the sunlight!”

He frowned. “But are we getting further and further away from the cult’s original purpose... from our grand goal?”

“Are you sure about that?” Barnes said. “From where I’m standing, we haven't strayed at all. In fact, our efforts lately have brought us closer to our original heart than ever before.”

Matthew looked hesitant.

Barnes continued, “Just look at the current situation. Aren't we saving magic and promoting its growth?”

Matthew pondered for a moment. “I suppose so...”

Yet, he still felt a bit strange in his heart.

While the research team drank enthusiastically and the cult elders whispered about their concerns, the true core of this celebration banquet was not in the noisy plaza.

In the courtyard of the late tribal chief, a secret meeting had already begun. The participants sat in a circle, the atmosphere heavy and serious.

Those present included the most senior tribal elders of the Staya, the acting chief Isera, Ansu and Freya, and the leaders of the three demihuman tribes rescued earlier: the chiefs of the Feiyu, Ogor, and Draconian tribes.

The three chiefs looked grateful, once again expressing their thanks to Freya and Ansu for their rescue.

“There is no need for such formalities, Chiefs,” Freya said in a steady tone. “As fellow demihumans, it is only right that we help one another. Now that the war has ended, it is time for us to unite our strength and protect our northern home together.”

“Yes, exactly...!” The chiefs nodded one after another, their faces showing agreement.

Ansu’s gaze fell on Freya, a hint of a smile flashing in his eyes.

In front of outsiders, Freya could already put on the air of a superior, her speech and mannerisms cold and composed. It was a stark contrast to the soft, gentle little Holy Maiden she used to be.

After this war, Freya would take on the role of “Divine Maiden,” a position her mother once held.

Of course, even without considering her achievements in this war, with Freya's current strength, there would be no objection even if she wanted any position in the Staya Tribe—even that of tribal chief.

(The sheer beauty of power from dual divine blessings.)

After a few moments of pleasantries, they moved to the main agenda of the secret meeting.

This war had unexpectedly unified the previously disorganized demihuman tribes. Having fought side by side, the Feiyu, Ogor, and Draconian tribes had officially decided to form a covenant with the Staya Tribe to establish a true Demihuman Allied Forces to prepare for any greater crises that might arise in the future.

Everyone knew in their hearts that the reason they had been pushed back and nearly wiped out was not just because the enemy had the support of demon forces, but because they had neglected military matters—they were too weak, lacking a regular army and relying only on spontaneously organized militias that were picked off one by one like loose sand.

Now that the Empire was unstable and the Royal Capital was in chaos, the coming era of turmoil was the perfect time for them to build an army.

As Isera discussed the details of the alliance and military recruitment with the other three chiefs, she frequently consulted Ansu and Freya. Time slipped away during the discussions, and before they knew it, dusk had arrived.

The meeting drew to a close, and the others departed one by one, leaving only Ansu, Freya, and Isera in the courtyard.

Isera looked at the two of them, seemingly hesitating to speak.

“Mother, what is it?” Freya asked.

Isera stared fixedly at Ansu, finally unable to hold back. “Freya, is he... is Ansu truly the Chosen One? The actual Lord Chosen One?”

Freya nodded. “Yes, it’s absolutely true!”

Seeing that Isera still looked hesitant, Ansu smiled and admitted, “Aunt Isera, I am indeed the Chosen One.”

The news that Ansu was the true Chosen One had already spread like wildfire among the four tribes. After all, many people had overheard his conversation with the fake Chosen One back in Gulzan's lair.

The Chosen One was the representative of the gods in the mortal realm, and the Goddess of Holy Light was the head of the five righteous gods. Even if the tribe did not worship the Holy Light, they knew of his prestige.

Furthermore, the Chosen One was the legendary savior who came to save the world; she naturally had to show him the utmost respect.

Isera’s expression suddenly turned grave, and she hurriedly grabbed Freya. “Quick, daughter, kneel with me! Lord Chosen One, the Staya Tribe is willing to give everything to assist you!”

Ansu was startled. He glanced at Freya, who had a helpless expression, and said gently, “Aunt Isera, please don't be so formal. Let’s just treat each other as we did before.”

“How could we do that?” Isera shook her head slightly, her expression solemn. “According to an ancient prophecy from a tribal high priest, when the Dark Moon shrouds the heavens, the False God appears, and filth consumes the earth, the world shall return to silence...”

“Now, your appearance as the true Chosen of God has brought immense hope to us, who should have been in despair...”

Isera closed her eyes devoutly.