Isabella’s sunlight-dappled eyes trembled.
She hid behind a tree, observing the scene ahead.
Born an archer, her Elvenfolk heritage allowed her to approach prey—or enemies—without a whisper.
To a position both safe for herself and lethal for foes.
Combined with the breath-concealing magic her master taught her…
Lady Isabella was no longer merely an elite archer.
She was a master assassin.
Yet now, this assassin stood utterly flustered.
According to her master’s audacious plan—
She should be playing the loyal Demonfolk general under the Demon King. His confidante. His childhood friend. The Elvenfolk avenger…
*Demon King Roy: I don’t recall sending this many agents for the operation…*
A-anyway!
She’d arrived first!
Those adventurers lured by her master should’ve fallen to her—crushed without mercy.
Don’t be fooled by Isabella’s youth.
Bearing the royal Elven bloodline with the strongest affinity for nature’s elements, raised beside Prince Roy since childhood—even attending his magic lessons as his attendant—
Her power now?
At minimum: a 7th-tier elemental mage, 6th-tier archer, and 6th-tier assassin.
More than enough to handle ex-Adventurer Guild President Enlil—a retired 6th-tier warrior past his prime.
As for the lower-tier adventurers?
Before they could react, Isabella’s 6th-tier elemental magic would trap them, cutting off aid to Enlil.
But now—her prey had been stolen.
Who *was* that hammer-wielding "priest" in cleric robes?!
Ruining her moment!
Fury warred with anxiety in Isabella’s chest.
*What if I miss this chance to shine before Master?!*
N-not that she craved his praise or anything!
After gritting her teeth through a tense moment watching Enlil clash with Sister Kaela…
She seized her opening.
The girl began a low, rhythmic chant. Azure and emerald elemental mana swirled around her like a living gale.
A colossal magic circle erupted beneath her feet—spreading faster than the eye could follow.
Roots and vines surged from the earth like serpents, slithering unseen to perfect positions.
Then—*snap!*
They lashed out at lightning speed, ensnaring every adventurer on the field.
Including Sister Kaela’s monk-soldiers.
“What—what is this?!”
“It’s got my arms—I can’t move!”
*Clang!*
“Can’t cut through it!”
“Ambush! We’re under attack!”
Screams and panic erupted.
—*Verdant Cage*.
A 6th-tier wood-element binding spell. Harmless, yet utterly immobilizing.
But casting it on so many targets at once drained Isabella. Her face paled, a faint pallor spreading across her cheeks.
No time to rest.
She steeled herself, radiating a villain’s aura. Demon wings flared behind her as she soared above the crowd, silhouetted against the blazing sun.
(Where’d an Elf get demon wings? A magitek flight device—Roy’s invention. If humans could reshape magic stones, why couldn’t he craft specialized magitek?)
Her attire completed the dread spectacle: a black-and-crimson gothic gown, a shadowy crown, pointed Elven ears bared proudly. A lace blindfold veiled her eyes—teasing mystery and allure.
Her presence crashed over the crowd like a mountain range.
No one dared meet her dark radiance. Spines bent under invisible weight.
Even Enlil and Kaela froze mid-combat, instantly recognizing the true threat.
Instinct overrode rivalry. They lunged at Isabella together—
Only to sink into the mire of her power, pinned helplessly.
Roy had gone to great lengths to avoid harming his old comrades.
As for himself?
Vines shot from the earth, coiling around his limbs.
He was hoisted into the air—trussed up like a holiday roast.
*…Caw. Caw. Caw. Caw. Caw. Caw.*
*(Six crows flew across Roy’s mind.)*
*“…”*
*He’d have words with his maid later.*
*What kind of midday aerial bondage play was this?! Everyone else was just grounded!*
Seeing Roy captured too, Aisha and Airi—having dodged the roots by Hero-instinct—shrieked his name.
“ROY!!”
Sister Elsa reflexively cast healing and shielding spells, trying to free him.
Only to make the vines tighten.
*So this is Sister Elsa’s boundless compassion…*
*Blessing the vines themselves?!*
But she’d never trained in magic properly. No grand adventures honed her skills.
She could only wield the Hero’s power instinctively—useless here.
Airi, however, could channel the Radiant Spear—a divine artifact of the Goddess of Light.
Shattering those vines should be easy.
Yet tears welled in her eyes. All she saw was the floating demon-winged Elf—
*An Elf?!*
Many noticed Isabella’s pointed ears, snow-pale skin, and silver hair.
A legend surfaced in their minds:
*Long ago, the Dread Demon King captured the Elvenfolk’s most sacred princess during the war. He defiled her, gifting her to his heir as a plaything…*
*The current Demon King.*
*That mysterious Demon Prince who ascended the throne.*
No one dared imagine what torments the princess endured under the Demon Prince—now Demon King.
Many believed she’d perished from his abuse.
The Elvenfolk even built a memorial tomb for her.
Every Elf vowed to remember her sacrifice—to fuel their hatred for the Demonfolk and their King.
But now…
The powerful Elf hovering above them, demon wings spread wide—
Had she truly fallen to darkness?
Was she—?!
