Twilight Harem: Reborn as an Elf, Conquer Every Foe and Rise to Power - The Night of the Ritual ~This Is Our Bond~

The bandages wrapped around Iris's shoulder slowly stained red. It was a wound from the battle that day. Not deep. But the bleeding still hadn't stopped. "Don't move. This might sting a little." Marguerite pulled a small leather pouch from the hem of her dress. Inside were a green ointment and clean bandages. With practiced hands, she unwound Iris's old bandages and applied the ointment to the wound. Iris's body twitched slightly. But she made no sound. "...Why are you helping me?" Iris asked in a low voice. Her mismatched eyes—one gold, one silver—stared intently at Marguerite. Marguerite didn't stop her hands. She placed fresh bandages over the wound and wrapped them tight. "Because you're Sera's comrade." Iris's eyes widened just a fraction. That was all. But that was enough. Iris fell silent for a moment. Then, with an awkward motion, she bowed her head deeply. No words. For someone who had lived as the ruler of the slums, this gesture came more naturally than words of gratitude. Serafina watched the scene from a short distance away. A warmth spread deep in her chest. (Good. These guys are all different, all a pain in the ass—) But right now, being together as these five felt incredibly right. Possessiveness and attachment swirled together in her heart. "Well then." Serafina stood up. "Let's move. Razuri, lead the way. To Nocturne—that underground cavern." Razuri nodded silently. Her long, silvery-white hair swayed, catching the faint moonlight. Her crimson eyes seemed just a little softer than usual. The five of them—Serafina, Gilda, Razuri, Marguerite, and Iris—dashed through the darkness before dawn. The entrance to the old underground waterway was on the outskirts of the noble district, Candila. A rusted iron grate hung half-open. The air rising from within was cold and musty. The stairs were wet and slippery, and the darkness below seemed ready to swallow anyone who missed a single step. Razuri took the lead. Using a presence-concealing technique fueled by magic essence, she advanced while probing for traps and lookouts ahead. "...Thirty paces ahead. Two lookouts." "Two, huh? There's five of us. Easy win." Gilda laughed roughly and clenched her fists. The old battle scars running down her left arm stood out in the faint glow of magic essence crystals. "Well, don't get too excited. There's bound to be a lot more further in." When they descended the stairs, the view opened up all at once. Five hundred meters in diameter—a massive cavern large enough to fit several school grounds spread out before them. The ceiling was hidden in darkness. The walls were densely carved with ancient script, glowing with a pale blue light. Ruins from the Great Collapse—created when the old civilization was destroyed eight hundred years ago. And at the center of the cavern. A summoning circle pulsed. Crimson-black light raced through the complex patterns etched into the floor, and swirling magic essence shook the entire cavern. At its center, atop a black pedestal, stood Marguerite's husband—the aide—with both arms spread wide. Around him were more than twenty black-clad underlings. And five cages holding captured elves. "So you've come." The aide looked down at them with a twisted grin. The next moment, underlings burst out from both sides of the entrance. "Don't move!!" A cold blade was pressed against Marguerite's neck. "—!" "Hahaha! A gathering of whores, and you actually made it this far!" The aide's mockery echoed through the cavern. "Offer up one elf heart. Do that, and I might let the rest of you go. How about it? A bargain too good for lowlifes like you, isn't it?" Serafina stepped forward. Then, slowly, she drew her sword from its sheath—and thrust it into the ground. A sharp clang rang out. She spread her arms wide. A completely defenseless posture. "Oh? Finally understood, have you? If you value your lives—" The moment the aide raised his voice in triumph. Serafina grinned. "Now." —The next instant. Gilda moved. The restraints still wrapped around her own body—steel chains—she tore them apart with the strength of her arms alone. A metallic shriek of breaking metal! Fragments of chain scattered everywhere. "Uoooooooh!!" Spinning around, she punched the three nearest underlings all at once. The first was sent flying into the wall, the second collapsed with a shattered jaw, and the third flinched and fell on his backside. At the same moment, Razuri slipped out from the shadows. A movement honed by pushing her presence-concealing technique to its absolute limit. She crept up behind the spellcasters stationed around the summoning circle and pressed a silver blade to their throats. Shhk. One. A spellcaster collapsed, spraying blood. Razuri didn't stop. Shhk. A second. Before the next spellcaster could even turn around, the blade tore through his throat. Shhk, shhk, shhk— Five in a row. All the spellcasters who had been channeling magic essence into the summoning circle clutched their throats and fell almost simultaneously. The flow of magic essence was severed, and the circle's light flickered unsteadily for a moment. Iris kicked off the ceiling. Her small, 145-centimeter body dashed through the air like the wind. Before the aide's close guards could even draw their swords, she grabbed the first one's wrist. Crunch. The unpleasant sound of a joint breaking. "Gah—" Before he could even scream, Iris slipped behind the next guard. She shattered his knee joint with a kick and stomped on him as he fell. "Ahah, everyone's so slow! You're not even fun to play with, are you?" Iris's laughter echoed through the cavern. A strange voice, mixing cruelty and innocence. And then— Marguerite moved. With an elegant gesture, she seized the wrist of the underling holding a blade to her neck. Contrary to the beauty of the motion, she wrenched his wrist into a reverse joint lock, making him drop his sword with pathetic ease. "Who do you think you're pointing a blade at?" Using the momentum of her release, Marguerite pulled out a small glass vial hidden in the sleeve of her dress. A purple liquid sloshed inside—poison. She hurled the vial at her husband, who stood stunned on the pedestal. Crash!! The glass shattered, and the purple liquid splattered across the aide's face. "Guh... wh-what did you...!" The aide screamed, writhing as he covered his face. Marguerite looked down at her fallen husband. The mask of the noble lady was gone from her blue eyes. It was the face of someone who had parted ways with her former self—the self once filled with loneliness and boredom. "You never had any value worth selling in the first place." The path was open. Serafina pulled her sword from the ground and broke into a run. She felt power surging from deep within her body. Pleasure Growth—that special ability that made her power grow the deeper her bonds with those she loved became—was now activating at full force. Attachment to her comrades. Possessiveness. The strong, burning desire to stay together with them. All of it became an emotional engine, accelerating her body. (This is my power!) The aide was attempting a final gamble. He reached for the black stone at the center of the summoning circle—a magic essence crystal—trying to absorb the remaining magic essence into his own body. "Not yet... I won't let it end like this!!" "It's over. For you." Serafina leaped high into the air. It must have been twenty meters. A leap that seemed to ignore gravity entirely. Reaching near the ceiling, she descended in a single, rapid plunge. She clenched her fist. Not her sword. Deliberately, her bare hand. This path her comrades had made for her—with this power her comrades had given her—she would strike. "This is—our bond!!" DOOOOOM!!! The moment Serafina's fist slammed into the black stone at the center of the summoning circle, a shockwave rocked the entire cavern. The stone shattered. Light burst forth from within. Crack—!! The summoning circle split. Fissures raced across it, and the magic essence dispersed in an instant. The swirling crimson-black light vanished, and the cavern was enveloped in its natural darkness. The aide was blown away by the circle's backlash, slammed against the wall, and knocked unconscious. The remaining underlings, deprived of magic essence, couldn't even stand and collapsed on the spot. Silence descended. Dust trickled down from the ceiling, and the red light from moments before had vanished as if it had been a lie. The ritual—had completely failed. Dawn broke over the royal capital. The long night ended, and the morning sun dyed the surface of the Seira River gold. On a table at the tavern "Amber Cup," five servings of herb-roasted boar meat and a large bottle of liquor were laid out. "Hey, Razuri! You were damn quick on the job today, weren't you!" Gilda slapped Razuri's shoulder roughly. Razuri, expressionless as ever, shrugged just a little. "...I merely did as I was ordered." But her hand quietly raised a cup. Iris sat down silently in the chair next to Marguerite. "Oh my... what is it?" Marguerite's eyes widened. Iris said nothing. She just gently moved her own cup closer to Marguerite's. But that was enough. Serafina looked around at each of the five faces in turn. Gilda—rough and mannish, but her most reliable right hand. Razuri—once bound by the past, now wielding her blade for her comrades. Marguerite—the lonely noble lady was no more. Iris—the girl who had survived alone in the slums was now, for the first time in her life, sitting beside someone. "I'm not just one elf." Serafina's voice rang out in the quiet tavern. "We are a pack." Everyone raised their cups. The clear sound of five cups clinking together faded into the morning light. The drinks flowed, and about half of the herb-roasted boar was gone. "Big Sis, I've got news for you all." Gilda pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket. "What is it, so formal?" "...It's an urgent message from Galtberg, a fortress town at the eastern foot of the Caldora Mountains." Serafina's expression shifted slightly as she took the paper. "The mountain's seal is wavering. Hordes of demonic beasts are pouring out. Something—is trying to awaken." Marguerite gasped. "The Demon Lord Volga... is trying to resurrect?" "...So this was the Remnant's goal." Razuri spoke quietly. "They were channeling the magic essence gathered in this ritual to the sealed land to hasten the Demon Lord's revival. That's what they've been working toward." Everyone's expressions tightened. But—only Serafina wore a ferocious grin. She picked up her cup and downed the remaining liquor in one gulp. "Heh. So it's the Demon Lord next." She placed the cup on the table. "Not bad." "I'm going too!" Iris grabbed Serafina's sleeve. With a childlike innocence, but a strong will shone deep within her odd eyes. "Obviously! You think you're leaving me behind, Big Sis?!" "...I'm going too." "Of course, I am as well. As if I'd let you all go alone." The four voices overlapped. Serafina let out a soft laugh. "What a pain. But yeah, you're right. Going alone would be boring." A fifth cup was raised anew. Outside the window, morning light filled the streets of the royal capital, Fontile. A new journey begins here.

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Episode 7

Name: Twilight Harem: Reborn as an Elf, Conquer Every Foe and Rise to Power
Author: Novelia

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