Diary of a Dead Wizard-Chapter 231: The Story of the Elves
The entire race… contaminated at the same time?
Saul suddenly felt a chill run down his spine, like goosebumps erupting all over his skin.
But that was impossible. His skin had already been modified—tough and dulled to sensation. It shouldn’t be capable of getting goosebumps.
“All elves live together? Not even a single one escaped?”
“That’s the terrifying part,” Gorsa said seriously. “Elves do prefer to live in close communities, but their territories are scattered across the continents. Some travel far from home. And don’t forget, there are different kinds of elves—Sunlight Elves, Dark Night Elves, and the Ocean Dwelling Water Elves.”
“Yet no matter the type, whether they were hunting with their kin, trading with wizards, or even fighting the dwarves… they all vanished at the exact same moment!”
The entire race, regardless of distance or bloodline, all wiped out at once?
Saul felt like the goosebumps had transferred to his cerebral cortex.
What kind of power… what kind of level of existence could simultaneously target so many beings and leave not a single one behind?
What if one day, this same force turned its attention to humanity?
The more he thought, the more terrifying it became.
He clenched his fists, afraid that the trembling of his hands would become too obvious.
“What if… what if… one day, that power targets humans?” Saul murmured the question with hesitation.
The elves—beings with mental power rivaling True Wizards even in childhood—had vanished without warning.
That thought made Saul deeply concerned about himself, and about the future of the wizarding world.
Could it happen to them too? Would they one day be collectively contaminated and then… disappear?
It would be like using the find-and-replace function in a document—select all, replace!
No warning. No way to resist. Not even a reason to understand why.
That kind of overwhelming, inescapable power made Saul start questioning all the effort he had put in so far.
Was it worth it?
Was it really worth fighting so hard?
Was it worth it?
Sleeping naturally only once or twice a month, and devoting every waking second to studying, researching, and adventuring?
Was it worth it?
Modifying both his body and soul in the pursuit of power?
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Was it worth it?
Knowing that one day, in his pursuit of knowledge, he might devolve into an unrecognizable beast?
Saul let out a long breath.
A deep sense of helplessness and insignificance washed over him. His back unconsciously began to hunch.
Gorsa sat across from him, watching silently.
He knew Saul was wrestling with a fierce inner struggle, but he didn’t interfere.
The disappearance of the elves was truly terrifying when one thought too deeply about it.
But even more terrifying was the fact that the elven disappearance was only one of the great horrors of the world.
If Saul couldn’t pull himself out of this darkness on his own, then even if Gorsa stepped in to temporarily comfort him, it would only plant a deeper seed of doubt—one that might erupt again in the future.
And when that time came… Gorsa wouldn’t save him.
Matters of the mind are difficult to alter.
At that moment, Saul exhaled again. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.
He didn’t want to see anyone, anything.
Because no matter what he looked at, he could only think about how everything would eventually vanish into nothingness.
But sometimes, that’s exactly how the human mind works—the more you try not to think about something, the more vivid those thoughts become.
In the darkness behind his closed eyes, he saw the already-deceased Sid and Brown… he saw Mentor Rum hiding in the shadows… Angela hugging her knees and weeping, then turning around and crafting her servants into corpse flowers… Nick, always trying to suppress his emotional swings but occasionally breaking down in tears and laughter… Byron, who preached equivalent exchange again and again but returned to save him in a time of crisis… the proud yet frank little genius Keli… and the alluring, mysterious, terrifyingly powerful Kongsha…
He watched these figures who had struggled so hard in the wizarding world… slowly fade into blankness. One by one, their existence was erased.
In the end, Saul thought of himself, and his past life.
That life of constant exhaustion, working from dusk to dusk, seemingly full, yet ultimately unchanged.
Saul’s shoulders began to tremble. A soft sob escaped through his fingers.
Watching him like this, Gorsa narrowed his eyes. His fingers twitched slightly, as if debating whether—if Saul truly broke down—he should step in.
To save him… or to kill him.
While Gorsa hesitated, Saul suddenly straightened his back. He lowered his hands, and there was not a single tear on his face. Instead, he was smiling.
“Sorry, sir. I got caught in a spiral just now. I’m good now. Please, continue your story.”
There was a lightness in Saul’s smile, no trace of the breakdown he’d just been through.
He had indeed been shaken by the incomprehensible, unstoppable terror of that unknown force.
But then he thought: in the peaceful world of his previous life, was life truly any more secure?
Sometimes you’d be laughing one moment, and the next, you’d be gone—killed by an accident, a disease, a natural disaster.
Probability is just as uncontrollable as the unknown.
If he lived every day dreading the small chance of total human extinction, he wouldn’t have needed to wait for a transmigration—he’d have already found his way to the rooftop.
“Not bad,” Gorsa said, his silver eyes narrowing, like he was both smiling and evaluating.
He went on, “The reason we say the elves were ‘contaminated’ is because after their disappearance, all elven-made artifacts began to change. Many who possessed these items reported falling into strange illusions—especially when channeling their mental form. The more advanced the artifact, the more dangerous the effects.”
“Some kind of illusion?” Saul felt more and more like this sounded just like Kismet’s power.
But the Tower Master had denied that Kismet was an elf… though that didn’t rule out a connection.
“Those who used elven artifacts often reported hearing faint voices. Some even claimed to see elves appearing in their daily life. But no one else—neither through their eyes nor through mental perception—could see any trace of them.”
“And the more they used the artifact, the deeper the influence. Some even lost the ability to tell what was real. Most eventually became fully contaminated, because they believed too strongly that the elves still existed.”
“And after a Third Rank Wizard went mad and slaughtered two small nations, the wizarding world initiated a campaign to purge all elven artifacts. But as you already know…” Gorsa suddenly raised a hand, and an item flew toward them from a shelf.
Saul turned to look—and to his shock, it was the Whisper of the Elves, the item Kongsha had secretly used.
“The more forbidden something is, the more people long for it,” Gorsa said quietly. “Whether it’s the elves’ strength, or the mysterious force that made them vanish—wizards are drawn to both.”
His long fingers rotated the bottle, but the liquid inside didn’t ripple in the slightest.
The twig within, however, began to change.
As he turned the bottle, the two remaining green leaves on the twig began to yellow. Their edges turned from yellow to brown, drying and curling into brittleness.
By the time Gorsa stopped, the once-vibrant twig was on the brink of death.
“Did you use or make mental contact with Whisper of the Elves?”
Saul opened his mouth… then silently nodded.
Gorsa wasn’t angry. He had never been one to care about rules—otherwise he wouldn’t have left his family behind to live alone on the Western Continent.
“There’s only one elven item in the Second Vault. Look at it. It’s trying its best to disguise itself, but it’s almost out of energy and close to perishing. You’ve just undergone Body Modification, which severely affects your mental form. Right now, your soul is especially fragile and exposed. So instead of Kismet’s power showing you the elves, perhaps you were simply paying the price for using an elven artifact.”
He handed the bottle to Saul.
The moment Saul took it, he heard a voice again—
“I’m going to die.”
Startled, Saul looked up, about to speak, but Gorsa cut him off.
“Don’t tell anyone what you see or hear. The more you acknowledge your connection to the elves, the more real it becomes. And belief—that recognition—is the most dangerous part.”
“Because, in the end, no one can convince you… except yourself.” Gorsa’s tone grew heavy.
Saul quickly shut his mouth.
He looked down at the Whisper of the Elves in his hand.
In just a few seconds, the leaves had yellowed even more.
One of them, under the silent gazes of both Saul and Gorsa, detached from the twig and drifted into the liquid below—where it dissolved instantly, without a trace.
(End of Chapter)
