The Elf Journey In The Western Fantasy World-Chapter 49: The Fall of the Fallen

When corruption completely took over their bodies, they turned into human-shaped black mist. Once that transformation was complete, they became entirely corrupted beings.

The black mist let out two eerie "jié jié" laughs. "After a thousand years, humans are still the best—absolutely the best nourishment. Envy, resentment, hatred—these negative emotions are the perfect sustenance for me. That’s why the gods were forced to retreat from the stage of the continent, while we who are called the Fallen can still survive."

"After all, nourishment is everywhere," the black mist said meaningfully. "And aren’t all of you... my providers?"

Before the black mist could finish its sentence, it was violently interrupted by an attack spell.

The black mist scattered under the impact of the green magic, but quickly began to reassemble.

Illiya had, at some point, summoned his wand from his bracelet. The green gem at the tip was glowing softly.

"Who wants to hear your ancient history lecture!" Illiya exclaimed, utterly speechless—he had never encountered an enemy this talkative. frёewebnoѵēl.com

As soon as he finished speaking, his wand moved slightly, and another attack spell surged toward the black mist.

Drwo was the first one to follow in Illiya’s footsteps.

He gave a gentle wave of his hand, and a simple, pure black bow appeared in his palm.

Picking up the bow, he aimed at the black mist, placed his fingers on the string, and pulled it back with force.

The pale white light emerged from his fingertips, twisting and intertwining into a single white arrow.

With a sharp "swish," the white arrow pierced straight through the body of the black mist. But unlike before, the part that the arrow penetrated did not close back up.

Seoryun revealed a kind smile upon seeing this.

He understood.

Darius and Eoryun exchanged a glance and smiled meaningfully.

They understood too.

It is known that Drow is a dark elf, and dark elves possess a unique magical attribute.

The source of their magic is moonlight.

Is there a difference between moonlight and sunlight? No, there isn’t.

Thus, one could draw a conclusion: the black mist fears light!

So as long as the scene becomes extremely bright, and they use the high-grade Divine Water purchased from the sky race, what is there to be afraid of?

After all, light-type magic restrains dark-type magic.

The black mist didn’t take the elves’ attacks seriously. That level of damage was insignificant to it—hardly even worthy of being called an attack.

Arrogantly, it resumed its earlier speech, which had been interrupted: "And all of you are my providers..."

Before it could finish, it was interrupted again.

But unlike last time, this time a searing pain came from the area it was struck, waves of pain crashing one after another.

The black mist looked down at its own body, discovering it wasn’t hit by magic—but had been splashed with a high-grade Divine Water.

The black mist: "..."

Why is the Divine Water is here?!

Completely enraged, the black mist no longer wanted to play with these pesky bugs.

It roared, shouting, "Hah! You’re the God of Light’s lackeys! You’ve completely infuriated me, and now I’ll make you suf—kan..."

A glass bottle full of Divine Water was "coincidentally" tossed right into the black mist’s mouth, cutting off whatever it had wanted to say.

Instinctively, the black mist swallowed the object in its mouth—and instantly, the searing sensation was no longer just external. It now felt like it was being roasted alive over a fire.

Unfortunately for it, the black mist still hadn’t realized that it was on the verge of a tragic end.

Illiya and the others continued without pause and repeatedly pulling out large bottles of Divine Water from their spatial storage devices and hurling them at the black mist.

The milky-white Divine Water landed perfectly on the black mist’s body, not a drop wasted.

The black mist could no longer utter any cruel words. The pain made it impossible to form a single complete sentence.

It glared viciously at the group still throwing Divine Water at it, gritting its teeth. "So what if you have a lot of Divine Water? You can’t possibly destroy me with just that!"

"Yes, which is why we also brought magic illumination crystals," Darius replied calmly.

The black mist: "????????"

You’re not fighting fair!

Without a word, Darius poured out a pile of person-height magic illumination crystal shards from his spatial bracelet, then raised his hand and infused them with magic.

With the abundant infusion of power, the magic crystals lit up with full intensity.

In an instant, the once-dim battlefield became blindingly bright, the harsh light so glaring that people couldn’t even keep their eyes open.

The black mist screamed in agony, clutching its face as it writhed.

Under the illumination of the white light, its body visibly disintegrated at a speed that could be seen with the naked eye.

In its dying moments, the black mist let out an unwilling howl: "Didn’t I ban the use of magic crystals for illumination?! Why does someone still know that magic crystals can emit light?!"

Darius fell silent. He realized he didn’t really know how to answer that question.

What was he supposed to say?

Should he say that a certain lord of a remote border city refused to give up and submitted a proposal every single year, suggesting that magic crystals should replace kerosene lamps?

That no matter how many times it got rejected by the higher-ups, this lord still persisted, year after year for ten whole years, insisting that magic crystal for illumination was the best solution?

That even the night before Darius left for the royal capital, that same city lord had sneaked into his room and stuffed a huge pile of magic crystals into his bag, hoping he could use them to metaphorically slap the king in the face?

So... is this the price of rejecting the proposal to replace kerosene lamps with magic crystal for illumination?

What goes around comes around. Heaven is always watching. It’s not that retribution never comes — it simply hasn’t come yet.