From Slave to King: My Rebate System Built Me a Kingdom With Beauties!-Chapter 207: A Strange Elf [FIXED!]

Byung struggled desperately against the creature, his sword finding purchase in the thick hide but doing minimal damage compared to the beast’s overwhelming size and power. The three-headed dog was relentless, coordinating its attacks with terrifying efficiency now that it had assessed his capabilities.

The center head feinted left while the right head struck from an unexpected angle, its massive jaws clamping down on Byung’s torso with crushing force. The armor held—barely—but the impact was devastating. Byung felt ribs crack despite the magical protection, felt the metal plates compress inward as the creature’s bite force exceeded anything he’d experienced before.

The dog shook him violently like a rag doll before releasing him, sending Byung crashing into a nearby tree trunk with bone-jarring impact. The force of the blow was powerful enough to put a visible dent in his armor, the enchanted metal warped from the sheer pressure applied to it. The dent was deep, pressing dangerously close to his chest, a testament to just how much force the creature had exerted.

Byung slid down the tree trunk and collapsed to his knees, coughing up blood. The metallic taste filled his mouth, warm liquid spilling down his chin as his body tried to process the internal damage. He knew with absolute certainty that he would be dead if not for the armor—those jaws would have simply bitten him in half, separating his upper body from his lower in one devastating chomp.

And he wasn’t about to test fate by continuing this hopeless fight.

His sword had fallen from his grip during the impact, lying several feet away in the dirt. Every breath sent stabbing pain through his chest where his ribs had fractured. His vision swam slightly from the trauma, black spots dancing at the edges as his body struggled to compensate for the damage.

Byung looked frantically to his left and right for an escape route, some direction he could run that wouldn’t immediately get him killed. But there was nothing in sight—just more identical trees forming an impenetrable wall, and the three-headed monster already positioning itself for another attack that would likely finish him off completely.

The creature advanced slowly now, confident in its victory. All three heads were focused on him with predatory intensity, saliva dripping from multiple mouths that anticipated tearing into his flesh. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no clever tactic left to try.

This was it. This was how he died—in a cursed forest he didn’t understand, fighting a monster,

Then an arrow pierced the creature’s left head, and the dog screamed at the top of its lungs—a sound so loud and filled with such genuine terror that it momentarily stunned Byung. The scream wasn’t rage or pain—it was fear, pure and absolute, the kind of sound that came from deep trauma triggered by familiar stimuli.

Byung noticed immediately that this arrow’s composition was made of pure energy, glowing with ethereal light that seemed to burn from within. The projectile wasn’t physical—it was concentrated magic shaped into deadly form, searing flesh with power that conventional weapons couldn’t replicate.

The creature screamed again, its three heads thrashing in panic, and then it simply ran away. The massive beast that had been dominating their fight moments ago, that had been seconds away from delivering a killing blow, fled like a whipped dog. It crashed through the undergrowth with desperate, graceless speed, its multiple eyes wide with terror, its powerful body driven by nothing but the overwhelming need to escape.

Byung stared after it in confusion, his pain momentarily forgotten in his shock. If this was all it took for the creature to run, then it wasn’t very frightening, was it? One magical arrow and it abandoned a fight it had been winning decisively? That didn’t make sense unless there was context he was missing.

Byung wondered what could make something so physically strong become so immediately submissive, reacting like a badly behaved pet that had just received harsh punishment and was fleeing to avoid more. The creature’s reaction spoke of conditioning, of learned behavior through repeated trauma over a long period of time.

Now that he thought about it more clearly, Byung noticed the beast had been covered in multiple scars—old wounds that had healed poorly, burn marks that looked suspiciously similar to the energy arrow that had just struck it. Some of the scars were clearly ancient, suggesting the dog had been trapped in this prison for years, maybe decades, accumulating damage from whatever had been tormenting it.

The creature was most likely reacting the best way it knew how to survive in this environment, because despite its violent aggression toward Byung, he sensed no real ill intent from it. No malice, no cruelty, just the mechanical violence of something following its nature.

It had been attacking because that’s what it did—what it had been conditioned to do as a prisoner in this cursed place, what it needed to do to survive and establish dominance. But when faced with whoever or whatever had hurt it repeatedly before, when confronted with a threat it recognized and feared, survival instinct overrode everything else.

And to his utmost surprise, the same figure he had seen previously—the one in the hoodie who had been watching him from a distance, observing his struggles without intervening—appeared directly in front of him as if materializing from thin air or stepping through space itself.

Byung looked up at her warily from his kneeling position, still coughing blood, still struggling to breathe properly through his damaged ribs. But he couldn’t sense anything from her presence. Nothing whatsoever—no aura, no energy signature, no indication of life or magic or consciousness emanating from her body. It was like she wasn’t real, like she was a ghost or illusion rather than a physical being standing before him.

But this couldn’t be the case considering she had just shot a bunch of arrows with enough power and precision to send a monster the size of an elephant fleeing in absolute terror. Ghosts didn’t shoot energy arrows. Illusions didn’t affect reality.

The hoodie cloaking her features finally dropped to the ground, falling away as if released by conscious choice, revealing her appearance fully for the first time.

She was an elf—that much was immediately obvious from her pointed ears and otherworldly beauty, the distinctive features that marked her kind as something beyond human or orc or goblin. But everything else about her was strikingly different from the elves Byung had fragmentary memories of encountering before.

Her breasts were enormous, straining against a crop top that barely contained them, the fabric stretched taut across curves that seemed almost excessive in their proportions. Her thick nipples were visibly pushing against the thin material, creating obvious points that would have been impossible not to notice. Her entire figure was voluptuous in ways that seemed designed to draw attention and provoke desire—wide hips, narrow waist, long legs that went on forever.

This elf’s eyes were completely different. The look in them was almost naughty, playful in a way that bordered on obscene. Her gaze carried open invitation, shameless desire, a hunger that made Byung’s body respond despite his injuries and confusion. Like she was begging to be fucked, her expression leaving absolutely no doubt about what she wanted, what she was offering.

She studied Byung with obvious interest, her lips curved into a smile that promised things he couldn’t quite articulate but his body seemed to understand instinctively. Her eyes traveled slowly down his battered form, lingering on the dented armor, the blood on his chin, the way his hands trembled slightly from pain and adrenaline crash.

There was possessiveness in that gaze, ownership, like she’d already decided he belonged to her and was simply waiting for him to understand that fact.

But there was one question dominating Byung’s mind as he stared at this impossibly provocative elf standing in the middle of a cursed prison forest: What the fuck was an elf doing here?

Elves didn’t get trapped in their own prisons, did they? They were the ones who created this place, who maintained its boundaries, who sent prisoners here to be forgotten and stripped of identity. The prison was their construction, their punishment for those who threatened their interests.

Unless she was a prisoner too. But that raised even more disturbing questions—what could an elf possibly do to warrant being sent to this nightmare? What crime was severe enough that her own kind would condemn her to eternal imprisonment in a memory-stripping maze?

The elf stepped closer, her movements graceful and deliberately sensual, each step drawing attention to the sway of her hips and the bounce of her enormous breasts. Byung instinctively tensed despite his injuries, his body recognizing danger even as it responded to her obvious sexuality.

She tilted her head slightly, studying him like a fascinating puzzle she intended to solve, and Byung found himself unable to look away from her despite every rational thought screaming that this situation was deeply wrong.

Byung tried to speak, tried to ask the questions burning in his mind, but all that came out was another wet cough that sent fresh blood spilling down his chin. His ribs screamed in agony with the movement.

The elf watched him struggle with apparent amusement, making no move to help or harm him, simply observing like he was entertainment provided for her benefit.