The Lord Who Levels Up by Devouring - Chapter 226

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 226. The Rice Grows of Its Own in the Fallow Field (1)
Elves.
A race that mirrors nature itself.
A race that commands spirits.
And a race of beauty.
Among these, the expression that resonated most deeply with humans was “the race of beauty.”
Elves were beings who seemed to have brought imagined beauty into reality itself.
Mongma, the ancestor of the Elves.
Just as she had been a creature of imagination, so too was the beauty of the Elves sculpted from imagination.
Humans exploited such Elves as sex slaves.
The Elves turned their backs on such humans.
They vanished from history, leaving behind only tales from fairy stories.
How they saved a deer being hunted by a hunter, and the deer introduced them to an Elf.
How a snail found in the forest turned out to be an Elf.
Such stories were passed down only through fairy tales, legends, and folklore.
But what?
“Elves have emerged into the human world?”
Everyone’s ears perked up.
As if struck by lightning.
Merchants passing by halted their carriages.
Laborers carrying bricks ceased their movements.
The hands of carpenters wielding hammers went rigid.
“W-what did you just say?”
“Elves did what?”
All eyes and ears converged in an instant.
The merchant who had broached the subject grew flustered.
“Ah, well, you see…”
At his flustered demeanor, people shook their heads.
“What, was it just idle talk?”
“Ugh, I thought it was real.”
After all, Elves emerging into the human world.
It would have been more credible to hear that a dragon had appeared instead.
People clicked their tongues dismissively and turned their attention elsewhere.
In that moment, the merchant waved his hands urgently and cried out desperately.
“No, I’m telling you it’s true! It wasn’t just one or two people who claimed to have seen an Elf at the Southern Marketplace!”
“Wasn’t it just someone beautiful you saw?”
“Or perhaps it was simply a lone Elf that happened to emerge.”
“After all, it does happen occasionally. Elves curious about the human world, you know.”
Yet this was not evidence that Elves—plural—had emerged into the world.
“You’re making a fuss over just that?”
“As they say, rumors are always like this.”
People scoffed dismissively.
Yet eyewitness accounts began trickling in from various quarters.
“Wait? I actually heard a similar story when I traveled south recently.”
“Same here. I heard that breathtakingly beautiful people were lined up between the wheat fields of the Southern Region.”
“I’ve also heard tales of animals migrating in herds….”
“Hold on, does that mean the rumor about fairies being spotted at the Riverside wasn’t nonsense after all?”
The eyewitness accounts did not end at one.
Most came from merchants who conducted business primarily in the Southern Region.
As the saying goes, if three people corroborate a story, they can conjure a dragon from thin air.
Baseless words, when spoken by many, inevitably gain credibility.
“Is it really true?”
“Have the Elves truly emerged into the human world?”
The rumor gained credibility.
And it began to swell with embellishment of its own accord.
“My friend saw them, and he said flowers bloomed wherever the Elves set foot.”
“Was it yesterday? The Elves passed through the Western Wasteland, and it rained so much that the wasteland became The Plains in just a day!”
Most of it was baseless speculation.
Yet not entirely without foundation.
The Elves truly possessed such power.
“It’s no wonder the financial value the Elves command is astronomical.”
“As always, you conclude everything with money.”
“Old habits die hard. Whether it’s Elves or anything else, if it makes money, that’s god and blessing to me.”
By this point.
The rumors had reached the ears of kings and lords.
“Your Majesty, there are rumors that the Elves are seeking new lands….”
“Your Excellency, there are rumors that the Elves are currently passing near our Territory….”
“Whoever welcomes the Elves first shall seize immense wealth and renown….”
“We must act with haste!”
The courts and councils of every nation became consumed with the matter of the Elves.
Yet the Elves themselves appeared nowhere.
Like a rainbow, they existed, yet remained beyond grasp.
“I don’t know where the Elves will settle, but how enviable.”
“Indeed. Just having Elves in the neighboring territory means never worrying about food.”
“Not just food security—they say bountiful harvests are guaranteed every year, and gold coins pour in from selling grain alone.”
“Every household becomes prosperous, and people’s hearts grow generous.”
“The well water becomes clear, and children never fall ill.”
Becoming the most prosperous and pleasant land on The Continent is a foregone conclusion.
And so.
“How wonderful it would be if the Elves came to our Territory….”
“Just imagining it makes my heart race.”
The rumor spread like wildfire, carrying with it the envy of countless people.
* * *
The central administrative district of Count Whitewolf’s Castle.
Inside the Administrative Office, the vibrant vista of Whitewolf Territory stretched beyond the window panes.
Flames crackled softly in the fireplace.
Seraphia was supposed to be calmly reviewing documents while basking in the warmth, but—fat chance.
“Ugh…!”
She couldn’t banish the images from her mind.
The Dark Forest bathed in moonlight.
The delicate fragrance of flowers.
Silhouettes overlapping within the rising mist.
Adrian and Iliana drawing closer.
Her heart pounding as if it might burst.
And then…
“S-Stop it!! Aaaahhh!!”
Seraphia raked her silver hair into complete disarray.
She forcibly severed the imagined scene.
At that very moment.
Knock, knock.
-Countess. It’s Bernard.
“Oh! P-Please, come in!”
Seraphia hastily smoothed down her disheveled hair.
Bernard entered through the door with an impassive expression.
Thankfully, he seemed not to have heard anything.
“W-What is the matter?”
“We have visitors in Whitewolf Territory.”
“Visitors? Plural?”
Seraphia’s eyes narrowed shrewdly.
Lately, there had been no shortage of guests arriving at Whitewolf Territory.
Their purpose was Adrian.
They were people who had journeyed all this way to the remote borderlands just to catch a glimpse of Adrian, the so-called Saint of Karabana—that devastatingly handsome man.
But most of them were utterly despicable.
They were nothing but wretched individuals seeking to arrange marriage proposals with Adrian.
In other words, they were nothing but annoying women brazenly making their moves.
And they came bearing gifts as betrothal offerings—how infuriating!
They carried themselves as though Adrian were already their husband, and how could her blood not boil?
If she had her way, she’d simply—!
Freeze them solid—
‘Sigh…’
Hold it in. I need to hold it in.
The moment I lose my composure, I lose everything.
‘Haaah…!!’
But a seething rage kept bubbling up from deep within.
It felt like this burning fury could have served as a cure instead of Iliana’s medicine.
‘Haaaaaah!!!’
Truly!
…In any case.
Regardless of whether it was a marriage proposal, numerous noble houses eager to establish favorable relations with House Whitewolf had been visiting frequently.
As a result, all manner of bribes and gifts poured in.
Rare jewels and treasures accumulated in the Whitewolf Territory’s warehouses.
But most of them?
Their true purpose was marriage negotiations with Adrian.
Seraphia glared at Bernard with eyes wide open.
“Which house? Who exactly?!”
“They are individuals hardly worthy of being called a house at all, my lady.”
What? What did he say?
“No house?”
“That is correct.”
“Ugh!”
“It appears they are individuals who pay no heed to bloodline, and—”
Slam!
“Now even women of no standing are coming after my brother!”
Seraphia struck the desk with a bang!
She shot up from her seat!
Her nostrils flared sharply!
“I’ll just—!”
She stormed out of the Administrative Office.
And.
“—individuals, so…”
Bernard’s unfinished words echoed hollowly through the empty Administrative Office.
* * *
Seraphia stomped down the corridor of Count Whitewolf’s Castle with heavy footfalls—thud, thud!
Her footsteps rang out sharply as she walked.
The maids passing by, intimidated by her fierce momentum, quickly pressed themselves against the walls.
They dared not speak, only bowing their heads deeply.
Regardless of their deference.
Seraphia stomped even harder—thud! Thud!
Her pace quickened as she drove her feet down with greater force.
And thus, beyond the castle walls.
What nonsense—welcoming guests to the courtyard!
These were nothing but scheming vixens trying to ensnare Adrian with marriage proposals, coy pretenders feigning innocence while flirting shamelessly, and alluring women who laced every word with coquettish charm—
cunning, deceitful, and devious—
sinister and treacherous beyond measure—
women who wore plunging necklines despite their modest frames—
in this frigid region, no less!
shivering uncontrollably in those scandalous garments that left shoulders and armpits bare—
and alongside these noble daughters who treated their bodies and faces like canvases, slathering themselves in new gowns, new perfumes, and fresh cosmetics until they gleamed—
what was next?
Now even common street women without family or standing were being welcomed through the gates of Count Whitewolf’s Castle with a thunderous bang!!
“What on earth—what is this?!”
Seraphia leaped to her feet.
All the people gathered in the courtyard of Count Whitewolf’s Castle.
Their beauty was uniformly extraordinary!
Every single one!
All of them!
Each as stunningly beautiful as Isolde!
“What?!”
Were there truly this many breathtakingly beautiful people across the entire Continent?
And all of them wished to marry Adrian?
…Wait a moment.
‘Is there… a man among them?’
She had assumed it was a woman due to such exceptional beauty, but the physique was unmistakably male.
In other words—
a man also wished to marry Adrian—?
“What?! What?! What?!”
Seraphia leaped to her feet once more.
Then, suddenly—
one person with distinctly unusual beauty caught her eye.
Hair the color of pale sky blue.
Eyes of azure.
Delicate features as gentle and adorable as a young puppy.
‘Iliana…?’
But why was Iliana among them…?
Could Iliana also be a candidate bride for Adrian?
Then all those imaginings were actually true??
…That couldn’t possibly be.
Seraphia shook her head vigorously and cried out.
“Iliana!”
“…Ah, yes!”
It was then that Iliana finally spotted Seraphia.
Iliana pushed through the crowd of beautiful and handsome people, stepping forward.
However, for some reason, Iliana’s face looked haggard—.
“What is going on here? Who are all these people, and where is my brother?”
“It’s a bit complicated, but… Adrian is over here.”
Iliana stepped aside.
Then Adrian, who was being carried on a stretcher—.
Huh?
Being carried on a stretcher?
Seraphia’s eyes widened in shock.
…Now that I looked closer, Adrian’s condition was strange.
His face was drained of all color, a sickly pale blue.
His limbs hung limp and lifeless.
Every muscle, every nerve, every blood vessel in his body seemed to have ruptured—his condition was… it was….
…as if he were dead.
Seraphia’s heart sank with a heavy thud.
Her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed to the ground.
Her breathing quickened, and her vision narrowed.
Just as her mind was beginning to fracture under the weight of this unbearable reality—.
“No! No! He’s alive!”
“…What?”
Iliana’s urgent words snapped her back to awareness.
Now that I listened more carefully—
he was breathing.
“Even the Elves’ spirit magic couldn’t heal him, so there was nothing we could do.”
“Ah…..”
Seraphia exhaled a deep sigh of relief—.
Wait.
What did you just say?
“Elves?”
“Yes. Everyone here is an Elf.”
Seraphia slowly looked around at her surroundings.
No wonder they all looked so beautiful and handsome without exception.
…as if that mattered now!
“What in the world happened?!?!”
Seraphia asked with wide, startled eyes—.
“Well, you see….”
Iliana, nervous as a frightened puppy, recounted everything that had transpired, leaving nothing out.
Except for one thing.
…the cactus monster incident—the Carcatus poison affair.
* * *
A peculiar sensation tickled the corners of my eyes.
Yet my consciousness lay heavy, and my eyelids refused to open easily.
Then, in that moment.
A dull ringing echoed through my ears—
Flash!
My eyes snapped open.
The familiar ceiling came into view.
A familiar landscape.
My room in Whitewolf Territory.
…As expected.
Things had spiraled beyond my control.
I slowly pushed myself upright.
My head felt impossibly heavy.
My body was stiff, as though pinned beneath a slab of iron.
“Ugh…!”
As I stifled a groan, that was when—
◆Good grief!
Mungu’s exasperated words materialized before my eyes.
The tone carried an air of resignation.
◆Every time you lose consciousness, why does this always happen?!
Mungu’s expression suddenly turned serious.
And then—whoosh!
Mungu began to pour forth.
◆You pass out, and Quests complete themselves on their own!
◆All the rewards vanish, swept away without a trace!!
◆And you don’t remember doing a single thing!!!
◆You just stand there with that vacant expression, like ‘I have no idea what’s going on,’ staring blankly!!!!
◆This same tired routine, every single time!!!!!!
A moment of silence.
◆AAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
…Mungu, looking as though they’d just shaken hands with the Death Lord, turned my vision pitch black.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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