From Slave to King: My Rebate System Built Me a Kingdom With Beauties!-Chapter 192: New Orders! Kill Byung! [FIXED!]

Byung and the dwarf had exited the underground tunnel through a concealed opening hidden beneath fallen logs and overgrown vegetation. They resurfaced in an unfamiliar location—a clearing surrounded by trees that looked ancient and twisted, their bark blackened as if scorched by old fires. The air here felt different, heavier somehow, carrying a scent of ash and something else Byung couldn’t quite identify.

Byung looked around carefully, his enhanced senses scanning for threats or landmarks. It looked deserted—no signs of recent habitation, no paths worn by travelers, just wilderness that seemed deliberately avoided. He had never been to this region before, couldn’t orient himself by familiar geography or remembered routes. But he knew he just had to follow the lead of the dwarf, trust that this strange creature who had orchestrated so much from the shadows knew where he was going.

The dwarf was yet to introduce himself properly—no name offered, no explanation of his origins or ultimate goals beyond cryptic references to swords and things that chose people. But this was the least important thing right now. Survival and reaching their destination took precedence over social niceties. Because as far as he was concerned, once that sword was within his hands, there was nothing the dwarf could force him to do that he didn’t want to.

Byung noticed they had traveled quite far based on how his legs ached and his stomach growled with hunger. But when he looked up at the sun in the sky, confusion struck him like a physical blow. It was already setting, painting the horizon in deep oranges and purples that signaled late evening. He had no idea how long they had been underground, but his internal sense of time suggested maybe four or five hours at most. It shouldn’t be dark out—when they’d entered the tunnels, it had been mid-morning. The dwarf noticed the look of confusion spreading across Byung’s face.

"Time feels faster underground," the dwarf explained without being asked, his red eyes glowing faintly in the fading light. "It’s one of the perks of the runes carved into those tunnels. They don’t just hide us from scrying—they compress subjective time for those who travel through them. Hours pass above while we experience minutes."

Byung wondered if he meant the strange glowing markings on the walls he’d noticed during their journey, those intricate patterns that had hurt to look at directly. But he didn’t question further, something telling him that knowing less would make the dwarf less likely to view him as a potential threat. Ignorance could be protective sometimes, especially when dealing with beings who valued their secrets.

However, the dwarf’s expression was tense despite their progress. He knew it was only a matter of time before they would be found by the elves tracking them. They had to come up to the surface here because the next tunnel entrance was approximately a mile out across open ground—too far to reach before nightfall without exposing themselves. Then they could go underground once again and continue toward the black forest, but there was no way the elf who had fought Byung earlier wouldn’t catch up with them eventually. Her magic allowed tracking beyond normal methods.

And there was no telling how many others were in the area. If the elves knew the dwarf had gotten his hands on Byung, then there was no doubt they were aware of his intentions—to reach the sword, to breach the barrier, to accomplish whatever dark purpose drove him.

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In their kingdom, hundreds of miles away in spires of crystal and living wood that touched clouds, the elves were watching these two figures moving across their scrying pools. The water showed the dwarf and Byung standing in that clearing, showed the direction they traveled, confirmed beyond doubt they were headed to the dark forest just as intelligence had predicted.

The Queen of the Elves sat upon her throne of woven silver branches, her ageless face expressionless as she observed the magical projection. Around her stood her council, but three figures commanded particular attention—her three strongest warriors, champions who had defended the kingdom through countless conflicts.

"My Queen," spoke the first—a tall elven warrior whose armor seemed woven from starlight itself, her voice carrying the weight of centuries.

"We urge you to let us go. This is something we cannot risk failing at. If that dwarf reaches the sword and breaches the barrier, everything we’ve sacrificed will be for nothing."

The second warrior, an elf whose eyes glowed with barely contained power, stepped forward. Her silver hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall.

"We can intercept them before they reach the forest. Eliminate both targets and end this threat permanently."

The third warrior, older than the others with hair gone pure white and bearing scars that told of ancient battles, nodded agreement.

"The dwarf has evaded us for too long. This is our chance to finish what should have been done decades ago."

The Queen thought about their counsel carefully, her slender fingers drumming against the armrest of her throne. There was wisdom in their urgency, truth in their assessment of the danger. But there was a reason they hadn’t been able to use their full power ever since the barrier was erected centuries ago—a limitation these younger warriors perhaps didn’t fully appreciate.

Putting the barrier up had reduced the inflow of mana into this world, cutting them off from the infinite wellspring that had once fueled elven magic to godlike heights. It severely limited the scale of magic they could cast, capped their potential at levels that would have been considered mediocre in the ancient days. They were shadows of what their ancestors had been, powerful still but constrained.

Although, the Queen acknowledged internally, the magic they currently had access to was more than enough to eliminate all the threats present in this diminished age. Goblins, orcs, humans—none possessed defenses against high elven sorcery. Even limited, they could level cities, shatter armies, bend reality to their will within the constraints imposed by reduced mana.

But the Queen knew she couldn’t risk sending her strongest warriors into direct confrontation with this particular dwarf. Not because he was physically dangerous—he wasn’t, not compared to elven champions who had trained for centuries. But because this dwarf was originally from the dark continent, and there was no telling what he would be able to do if he could get his hands on a being capable of wielding significant magic.

If he could capture or kill one of her higher-ranked elves, the consequences could be catastrophic.

The reports were unconfirmed, gathered from ancient texts rather than direct observation, but dark dwarves possessed a particular ability that made them uniquely dangerous to magic users. He couldn’t use or absorb mana directly himself—his physiology rejected it the way oil rejected water—but he could siphon it from others. Drain magical beings of their power, consume their essence, potentially use that stolen energy for his greedy purpose.

It was an unconfirmed report, but it was a common trait among dark dwarves according to the fragmentary records that had survived from before the barrier’s creation. So it was only logical for them to assume this was the case with this particular specimen as well.

However, he couldn’t absorb the barrier itself or he would have done so long ago.

The barrier was too vast, too fundamental, woven into the fabric of reality rather than maintained by individual casters. Which made Byung an important piece of the dwarf’s puzzle—the goblin served some function that the dwarf’s own capabilities couldn’t fulfill. Perhaps as a vessel, perhaps as a catalyst, perhaps simply as someone who could wield the sword when the dwarf’s cursed nature prevented him from touching it directly.

The Queen’s eyes narrowed as strategy crystallized in her ancient mind. Killing the goblin would be far easier than capturing or killing the dwarf. Remove the key piece, and the dwarf’s plan collapsed regardless of his preparations. And a new order formed in her thoughts, one that minimized risk while maximizing chance of success.

"I will not send our strongest warriors," she declared, her voice carrying absolute authority that silenced any protest before it could form. "The dwarf is too dangerous to them specifically—his abilities are designed to counter magical beings of high power. Instead, we send skilled hunters of moderate strength. The order is given: kill Byung the goblin. Avoid direct confrontation with the dwarf if possible."

"My Queen," the first warrior protested, "surely our power—"

"Is exactly what makes you vulnerable to him," she cut her off sharply.

"This dwarf doesn’t have access to magic himself, so he is severely limited in conventional combat. But he’s survived this long precisely because he’s learned to turn our strengths into weaknesses. A mage who approaches him becomes fuel for his siphoning. But hunters with basic enchantments and physical skill? They can eliminate the goblin without presenting the magical signature he needs to threaten them."

The Queen gestured, and the scrying pool shifted to focus on Byung specifically. "The goblin is the weak point. Kill him, and this entire scheme collapses. Send the shadow hunters—they’ll be sufficient for one goblin, no matter how unusual his evolution."

Orders went out through mystical channels, and in the forest, hunters already in position received their commands. The dwarf might have thought he’d escaped the hardest predicament, but it looked like he underestimated how prepared these elves were.