Chapter 189: Fear

Chapter 189 Fear

The man wore long boots with metal heels, his crisp footsteps echoing at the mouth of the alley as his silhouette nearly dissolved into the curtain of rain.

Elu looked up. The figure was shrouded in a gray-black robe, a hood covering his head, his face hidden behind an ugly silver-white mask. In his hand was a longbow, his fingers gripping a three-foot-long elderwood-shafted arrow.

66 almost screamed: "—What's going on now?!"

One creep wasn’t enough—now there’s some bow-wielding fighter? Even together, they stood no chance against him!

But then, the god’s lips curved into a faint smile.

He whispered, "Percy."

That slender figure, that precise archery—it was Percy.

The deity pressed his lips together, then thought, *What an ugly mask.*

The silver-white mask was covered in irregular protrusions, twisted like a demon’s face.

…Percy was so beautiful. Why wear something like that?

The man’s screams drowned out Elu’s voice completely.

The arrow had pierced his arm, blood seeping from the wound. Trembling, he clutched his injury, gritted his teeth, and stood up, his expression despairing as he watched the black-robed figure approach.

This was a six-foot-long bow, made of yew—its draw weight no ordinary person could handle. Its owner was a trained warrior.

The man stammered, trying to negotiate: "Him—you can have him! Just let me go... My uncle’s the magistrate of Yosha County! If I die here, he’ll investigate—"

The Withering had spread across the continent, and Southlake Town had descended into chaos. Every month, bodies were dumped in the depths of alleys. The roles of hunter and prey shifted endlessly—endless cycles of predator and prey. The man clearly saw Percy as the final predator.

The black-robed figure stopped before him, the hood obscuring most of his face, revealing only the clean angle of his jaw.

His voice was low, hoarse, as if from thirst—yet his words were refined, his accent cultured: "Sir, the clinic at South Main Gate is still open. If you hurry, you might save that arm."

The man froze, then without another word, scurried off.

His footsteps faded around the corner, leaving only Percy and Elu in the rain.

Elu leaned against the wall, still hunched from being shoved into the corner earlier. Now slightly shorter than Percy, he could just peer past the hood to see his face.

Those beautiful green eyes were hidden behind the silver mask. In just three months, they looked tired—whether from the cold or something deeper, his lips were pale too.

Elu pressed his lips together. "Percy..."

Elu looked completely wretched—drenched, his hair and clothes soaked, even his eyelashes glistened with droplets. His white shirt clung to his skin, nearly see-through, while his brown vest had shrunk with the damp, constricting around him… In short, he looked like he’d been through hell.

If he claimed to be Eluvier now, he’d be written off as crazy.

Percy reached out. Deerskin-gloved fingers dug into his robe before producing an umbrella.

"Go home. Southlake’s been dangerous lately—stay off the streets at night. I won’t always be around to save you."

With that, he took two steps back, made to leave—but before he could move, his robe was tugged.

Elu wasn’t letting him get away now. He clung to Percy’s sleeve, even lurching forward a step: "Wait—"

Percy paused, glancing back. The mask made his expression unreadable. "Something else?"

The elves were solitary by nature, disliking interaction with those outside their kin. Grabbing a stranger’s clothes out of nowhere was incredibly rude, but Elu had to stop Percy from leaving no matter what. He blurted out without thinking: “I’ll go with you, I—”

The deity paused, his face as ever—calm, indifferent, utterly unreadable. “I’m really scared.”

66: “….”

It nudged its host discreetly. “You don’t look scared at all right now. Could you at least try to pretend a little?”

Elu was a terrible actor, barely able to fake human emotions like joy or grief. Luckily, it was too dark for Percy to see his face. The Elven King could only sense the young man gripping him tightly, as if afraid he might flee—a picture of desperate clinginess.

For a split second, Percy remembered when he was still a beloved king. Back then, newborn elves had clung to him just like this, like kids clinging to their mom—or elves to their Mother Tree.

A guy who’d just been scared out of his wits might act like this.

Percy sighed, his tone softening unconsciously. “He’s gone. He won’t come back. You’re safe now.”

He was talking about that guy.

Elu kept his indifferent expression. “But what if he comes back? My place is far, and it’s pitch-black out. I’m terrified. I can’t go back alone.”

—Elu had read the Hero’s biography. In those stories, when maidens wanted to keep the Hero around after being rescued, they said exactly this.

After parroting the lines word for word, Elu tightened his grip on Percy’s sleeve, pressing flush against his arm.

Percy froze for a second.

His getup wasn’t exactly reassuring—a black robe covering his whole body, an ugly silver mask hiding his face, the type to make kids cry. The people in South Lake Town avoided him, but this guy didn’t seem to care, leaning closer and closer.

Elu didn’t give a damn.

Back when every elf was still a soul, Elu had petted and pinched them all. He even played with Percy’s soul between his fingers—Percy had clearly liked it. So what if he leaned on his arm now?

Besides, Percy was like a furnace.

Elu added slowly, “And it’s so cold. I’ll probably get sick.”

That, at least, was true. A body without magic was weaker than a human’s. After getting soaked and chilled, he’d be burning up tomorrow.

Percy’s arm jerked slightly before he caught himself.

It felt strange.

Elven interactions were usually reserved. Since the Mother Goddess had turned her back on him, no elf had dared to get close to Percy. The townsfolk of South Lake disliked outsiders, making the young bartender the closest anyone had gotten in years.

It wasn’t a bad feeling.

Percy: “…I’ll walk you home.”

He stood to leave, but the young bartender grabbed his sleeve again, unafraid of his appearance. His pale golden eyes locked onto Percy’s. “I don’t want to go back to my place.”

Percy moved like a ghost. Once brought home, how else would Elu have an excuse to meet him again?

The god made up an excuse: “That guy knows where I live. His dad’s the county patrol chief. What if he comes for revenge?”

Percy tugged his sleeve, but couldn’t pull free. “Then where do you want to go?”

Elu: “Your place.”

66: “.”

The system tentatively nudged Su Zhu: "Is it okay to say it so directly?"

Elu: "Why not?"

The landlady had found Elu a ramshackle little attic. The wooden boards were rotten and peeling, creaking underfoot. Mold crept up the walls, filling the room with a musty odor, and mushrooms even sprouted from the cracks of the bedside table.

Songshan's Mother Goddess had never lived in such a wretched place. Since Percy was here, he planned to stay with him.

66: "."

Percy gave a humorless laugh: "My house? Do you even know who I am? Or what makes me any better than that guy earlier?"

Elu thought to himself, *I do know. You're the Elven King of Songshan, with a pure and flawless soul, one of my favorite children.*

But outwardly, he maintained the cool, detached expression of a god, simply saying, "I believe you're a good person."

66: "."

The system had no words.

Percy had clearly never met anyone so strange either. At a loss for how to respond, he snapped, "Suit yourself."

To Elu's surprise, he gave in.

They walked single-file through the heavy rain.

Percy moved steadily, but Elu, trapped in this weak human form, felt his legs grow stiff and unsteady from the cold rain. At first, he held onto Percy's sleeve, but eventually, he outright grabbed the Elven King's wrist.

*I shaped Percy's body myself. If I can't even stand steady, what's wrong with holding his wrist?*

The moment their skin touched, Percy's muscles tensed under his touch.

Percy remained silent but allowed the young bartender to hold onto him as they walked.

To the residents of Nanhu Town, Percy was also an outsider. But having arrived two months earlier than Elu and working bounties, his financial situation was far better. His home was tucked away in a deep alley, with a few potted plants by the door—tangled vines and shrubs that Percy had clearly tended to carefully, the soil loose and the branches meticulously pruned.

Elu glanced at them, his eyebrow twitching slightly.

Despite the care, the leaves were yellowed and limp, stems sagging half-dead.

Elves were naturally blessed by nature; where they dwelled, plants usually flourished. Withered vegetation shouldn't have appeared here.

Elu frowned, a sudden dread rising in him.

Had Percy already fallen to the Withering in just three short months?

The original text hadn't detailed how Percy became afflicted, only mentioning that he had accepted a noble's contract to investigate the source of the Withering.

Nanhu Town bordered Songshan and was one of the areas most severely affected by the spreading Withering, which was why Percy had lingered here, trying to find a solution.

Elu pressed his lips together, his heart aching.

Even after being exiled by his kin, even while drifting rootless, Percy still worried about the Withering plaguing his people and sought to resolve it?

Why?

Even Elu couldn't fully save those corrupted by the Withering.

The Withering left behind intricate, sinister patterns on the body, their hues deepening over time. Once they reached the heart, there was no turning back.

This was how Percy had died in his past life.

Elu had come specifically to stop this, but arrived just a step too late.

Yet according to the plot, Percy had spent the past few years only skirting the edges of the Withering, delving deeper only later. He shouldn’t have been infected so soon.

System 66 was terrified—it sensed Elu’s change first. This ancient god of the earth radiated an emotion called “displeasure,” creating an inexplicable oppressive feeling hanging in the air, as if the atmospheric pressure had dropped several degrees.

System 66 carefully poked Su Zhu: “Lord Elu? Are you unhappy?”

“Yes, I am unhappy,” Elu replied bluntly. “I want to see Percy’s body, but he’s wrapped up too tightly.”

The heavy black robe covered every inch of skin, and even Percy’s fingertips were gloved—Elu couldn’t see anything.

System 66: “?!?!”

The little system was stunned, stammering, “Wh-what?”

Elu: “I need to remove his cloak to determine how far the Withering has spread.”

System 66 wiped away nonexistent sweat: “The way you phrased that… gave me quite a scare.”

But the next moment, it tensed up again: “L-Lord Elu, I remember that if someone is infected with the Withering, even you can’t fully heal them, right?”

Elu replied, “That’s correct, but it doesn’t matter.”

The god’s tone was cold: “If it truly comes to that day, I’ll take his soul back to the Mother Tree and mold him a new body.”

System 66 let out a long sigh of relief.

The most ancient god of Pine Mountain had the confidence to speak like this.

It then curled up softly on Elu’s head: “So, Su Zhu, we’ve found him and even moved into Percy’s home. What should we do next?”

Elu stepped inside: “Remove his robe. First I need to assess his injuries.”