Demon King After the End-Chapter 29: Dark Elves

Leon walked toward the Tree of Death with Mora perched on his head, swaying her legs and looking around excitedly. As he got closer, the demons working nearby noticed him.

They immediately stopped what they were doing and bowed.

"Good morning, Your Highness."

"Your Majesty."

Leon gave a simple nod. "Morning. Keep working."

Most of the demons couldn’t see Mora. Spirits weren’t visible to just anyone. Only those with a strong connection to nature or deep magical knowledge could see her. So, to most of them, Leon just looked like he was walking normally.

But the elves—especially the dark elves—froze.

Their eyes were fixed on the small figure sitting on his head. Some of them stared. A few even lowered their heads respectfully. Spirits, to them, weren’t just rare—they were sacred. The are believed to be messengers of nature. Living proof of the world’s will.

Elvera stepped forward slowly. "Is that... truly a spirit?"

Leon glanced up. "Yeah. This is Mora. She’s with me now."

Mora beamed and raised her hand. "Hi! Nice to meet you."

The moment she spoke, several elves went silent. They didn’t know what to do—bow, speak, or just keep watching. Mora didn’t wait. She suddenly shot into the air.

"Whoa! This place is amazing!" she shouted. "So much death energy. It’s so thick! I could live here forever."

She began flying around the field near the Tree of Death. Black sparkles of mana followed her trail. As she passed over the soil, plants began sprouting. Seeds cracked open. Vines shot out of the dirt. Crops that hadn’t even begun to grow suddenly pushed upward as if someone had fast-forwarded time.

Within minutes, what had been bare Nethersoil turned green and black. Thick plants, tall stalks, and glowing vegetables spread out fast. The whole area changed right before their eyes.

Gasps broke out among the demons.

"Did you see that?"

"What’s going on?"

"I just blinked and it grew!"

Even the ones who couldn’t see Mora could see the result. The land they thought was slow and unstable was now bursting with food. Sturdy plants. Edible crops. Dozens of them.

The elves were speechless.

Leon just stood there, arms crossed. He didn’t say anything. He let them watch.

Mora flew back and landed on Leon’s shoulder, a proud look on her tiny face. "Told you—I’ll turn this wasteland into a garden of doom."

Elvera, standing nearby, muttered thoughtfully, "Garden of Blood? Hmm... it has a nice ring to it. But how about ’Garden of Bloom’?"

Mora clapped her hands. "Excellent choice! You’ve got brains, girl. Way better than that dimwit fox."

Elvera gave a polite bow. "Thank you for your praise, Lady Mora." Though in her mind, she was trying to figure out who this fox was.

"You’re respectful too. Nice, nice," Mora said, nodding in approval as she folded her arms like a tiny noble.

Leon exhaled slowly and rubbed his forehead. "Alright, alright. Call it whatever you want."

Before anything else could be said, one of the demon scouts who had been on lookout rushed toward them. He knelt down and reported quickly.

"Your Majesty, someone’s approaching. From the eastern edge."

Everyone’s attention shifted. The cheerful atmosphere vanished in seconds.

Leon’s expression sharpened. "Who are they?"

The scout shook his head. "Unknown. They’re still far. Can’t identify yet."

Leon frowned. "Humans?"

"Unclear, but—" the scout paused.

That’s when Sylviana descended from above, her wings folding behind her as she landed with practiced grace.

"It seems likely," she said in her usual sultry tone, lips curved in a teasing smile.

Leon looked toward her. "What makes you so sure?"

Sylviana turned her eyes toward Elvera. "Because they’re not human." She smirked. "They’re dark elves. And not just one or two—it’s a group."

Elvera’s eyes widened. "They must have sensed the revival of the Tree of Death... and followed the call."

Leon glanced at her. "You know them?"

"Not personally. But our people... we can feel when the sacred trees awaken." Elvera took a step forward, her voice firm but excited. "Your Highness, please excuse me. I must go greet them and bring them here."

Leon gave a nod. "You’re excused. Take a few of ours with you. Be careful."

She bowed and darted off with a few other dark elves, vanishing toward the horizon without wasting another second.

Mora crossed her arms again. "Huh. More pointy-eared people, huh? Wonder if they’re as polite as her."

Leon didn’t answer. His gaze stayed fixed on the east, waiting to see who would arrive... and what they might bring.

On the other side:

Elvera ran eastward under the scorching sun, flanked by two other dark elves. The heat bore down on them, but Elvera didn’t care. Her heart beat fast—not from the exertion, but from anticipation. She was about to meet her people again.

In the distance, she spotted a group of figures in long cloaks and hoods, shielding themselves from the harsh sun. Her steps quickened. There were more than she had hoped—at least thirty of them. Her heart swelled.

Without hesitation, she whispered an enchantment under her breath. A faint glow wrapped around her legs, and her body blurred as she dashed forward. Dust kicked up behind her.

She came to a sudden stop right in front of the group, creating a small cloud of dust. The dark elves flinched, startled by her sudden appearance. Some stepped back, hands reaching for weapons out of reflex.

"Hey... hey, it’s okay!" Elvera raised her hands and quickly pulled back her hood. "I’m one of you."

The tension broke instantly. The sight of her face brought relief to many. Then one of the elders, a frail old man with a thin beard and tired eyes, stared at her closely. Recognition hit him like a jolt.

He dropped to his knees. "Your Highness."

The others followed one by one, kneeling in silence and respect.

Elvera shook her head, a little overwhelmed. "No, no. Please. I’m not a queen anymore. I’m just another dark elf trying to survive. There’s no need for all this."

The elder looked up, unwavering. "You will always be our queen, Your Highness."

Her throat tightened. For a moment, she said nothing. Her eyes almost welled up. But then, she looked over the group and her joy turned into concern.

There were men, women, a few children—even a baby cradled in someone’s arms. Their clothes were worn out. Skin dry and cracked. Sunken cheeks. Eyes half-lidded. Exhaustion and hunger written all over them.

Elvera’s brows drew together. "You’ve been traveling all this time without rest? Without food?"

The elderly elf lowered his head. "We had food, but it ran out yesterday. Still, there was no time to rest. We feared the signal would vanish... and not all of us made it."

Elvera’s fists tightened, her nails digging into her palms. But she stayed calm. "You made it now. You’re safe. Come. We’ll take you to the Tree. To the new Demon King. You’ll be fed and sheltered."

She untied the water pouch from her belt and handed it over without hesitation. The two dark elves beside her followed her lead.

"Drink. There’s more waiting at the shelter," she said firmly.

The elderly took the pouch but passed it immediately to the youngest child, who eagerly drank. It was passed along quietly. No one wasted a drop.

Elvera and the group of dark elves began their slow walk back. The weakest among them were supported by the two younger elves at her side. The children clung to their parents, sipping from the water pouches with shaky hands. No one complained. No one spoke much. But there was a strange light in their tired eyes—a mixture of relief and hope.

As they got closer to the Garden of Bloom, the atmosphere started to change.

The closer they came, the more the dark elves perked up. Their steps gained strength as the deathly energy in the air wrapped around them like a warm cloak. This wasn’t decay or destruction to them. This was home. This was their element. The mana exuding from the Tree of Death was thick, rich, and natural to their bodies. It felt like their own breath returning to them.

Some of them closed their eyes and let the aura wash over them. The elders walked straighter. Even the infants stopped crying.

But then their cautious gazes fell on the demons. Some were tall and imposing—onyx-skinned minotaurs, red-eyed succubi, horned goblins. The dark elves naturally tensed, instincts telling them to stay alert. But there was no hostility. Just curiosity from both sides.

The demons watched from a distance, murmuring among themselves. Many had never seen dark elves before—especially not in such numbers, and certainly not in this condition. But they respected Elvera and didn’t interfere.

Meanwhile, Elvera pressed forward, ushering them all along the central path.

"I’ll take you to the Demon King," she said softly, offering a faint smile to the children, who stared wide-eyed at the strange and eerie beauty of the Nethersoil fields.