Chapter 55: A Single Endless Web...
Lenko’s gasp cut sharp through the air as his hand shot out, not just gripping Keiser’s shoulder this time, but seizing his entire arm and yanking him back from the bars. Keiser allowed himself to be pulled, releasing his hold on the elven’s arm.
What he let go of was no longer the coarse, weathered skin of an old man. The flesh had grown pale, smooth, almost unnaturally slender. Across the forearm burned a rune, raw and searing as though freshly carved into the skin. The mark pulsed faintly, glowing like embers... ’Reveal-Yourself’.
Even Tyron, stumbled back in step with the two elders, their faces twisting from shock into something colder... fear.
No wonder. Every tale, every whispered warning in the kingdom spoke of elves, and none of it was comforting.
Unlike humans, elves needed no scripted runes, no carved sigils, no parchment or circle etched in chalk to wield their magic.
Their being itself was a conduit, their voices, their very breath, could draw power into shape. Where humans strained through mediums, elves bent mana as easily as one might tilt water in a cup.
And their supply of it... unrivaled.
It was said that an elf could speak a word and wither crops in the next valley, that a mere touch could lay a wasting sickness on a family line for generations.
Death was a mercy compared to what their kind were capable of. But curses were their truest signature... slow, clever, cruel.
Some elves, the darker kind whispered of in border villages, were said to delight in spreading rot even among their own kin, twisting beauty into horror with corrupted spells.
Here, in this dungeon, stood one such being... no longer hidden. The figure before them was no longer the ragged, mud-stained old man they had seen behind the bars.
The change was unnerving... bones shifting, lines smoothing, flesh reshaping until what stood there was something caught between the sharp beauty of man and the delicate grace of woman.
Too pretty for a man, too handsome for a woman.
Their features hovered at the threshold of both, a balance so precise it unsettled the eye.
Their arm, now slender and pale as ivory, bore the searing scar where Muzio’s blood had burned its truth into the flesh. The elf raised it languidly, fingers drifting with detached grace as though the limb belonged to someone else.
The mark, dark and jagged, coiled over the skin like a living brand. They tilted their head, lashes lowering in idle thought, as if examining not a wound but some careless drawings on a wall.
A faint curl of amusement brushed their lips, though it never reached their eyes. To any other, the scar might have been a chain, a verdict etched by fire and blood. To them, it was little more than a curious trinket... an uninvited scrawl, daring them to decide whether to cherish or despise the permanence of its design.
"Crude..." the word slipped from their lips, soft yet carrying in the dim corridor.
The voice had changed too.
No longer the gruff, world-weary rasp of the man, but not quite feminine either. It hovered in that same disorienting space as their appearance... smooth, rich, and unhurried.
The cadence, however, had not changed. It still dripped with the same sly mockery, every syllable carrying the weight of amusement at their expense.
The torchlight licked over their face, catching in eyes that were no longer green but a sharp, glimmering color. They sparkled with mirth, but behind it was a depth that sent unease crawling across the skin... like staring too long into the forest at night, where you knew something unseen was watching back.
The elf lifted a pale hand to sweep the last remnants of their disguise away, pushing loose strands back with a casual elegance.
What had once been a sloppy man bun now spilled into a long, low ponytail of deep green hair, sleek and silken, catching the firelight in shifting shades... dark moss at the roots, gleaming emerald at the tips.
The strands shimmered each time the torch flames wavered, as though the hair itself carried a quiet, unnatural glow.
They leaned forward into the light, raising one finely shaped brow. Amusement curled their lips, the smirk deepening as those eyes swept slowly up and down Keiser, deliberate and assessing.
"You sure are an interesting one, child." The words carried no warmth... only a teasing cadence that left the insult buried somewhere between the syllables.
The shift in presence was undeniable.
Their taller, leaner frame loomed now with an ease that seemed predatory, all traces of the ragged broker gone. Even the same filthy tunic clung differently... fitting in ways that emphasized the elf’s stature, the sharpness of their lines.
Where the disguise had been slouched and unimpressive, this form radiated something refined, dangerous, and undeniably other.
But Keiser couldn’t help the way his eyes narrowed at the elf’s unveiled form.
Stripped of the shabby disguise, the truth stood bare before him... It was too late for ’Sir Keiser,’ back then to have known. Too early for him to notice the truth,
now At that time, he hadn’t even suspected that the ’slippery bastard’ was anything more than a man.A nuisance, yes. A criminal with a dozen masks and a dozen tricks, certainly.
But never this.
The realization stung like salt rubbed into an open wound.
Every time Keiser had thought he’d cornered the man... every hunt, every narrow escape... it had been nothing but a game of shadows.
A slim, bearded figure in a top hat.
A ragged peddler with a limp.
A nobleman’s servant who vanished the moment his master turned his head.
He had thought the black market was just that. A network of many, an underground web spun from dozens of mouths and hands, each trading secrets for coin.
But standing here now, with those eyes gleaming back at him, Keiser understood.
It wasn’t a group.
It wasn’t a scattered circle of whisperers.
It was one.
One elf.
One creature clever enough, cunning enough, to change face and shape as easily as slipping on a cloak.
One being who had spun an entire kingdom’s worth of secrets around themselves like a spider weaving a single endless web.
And back then, as ’Sir Keiser’... had never once realized it.
But the moment he did, it became the least of his worries.