Hjaðningavíg Island was not merely a place; it was a living monument of hatred. The sky above the island seemed as if it had never truly cleared, always covered by a thick fog carrying the coppery scent of blood spilled over centuries. The land there had long lost its fertility, replaced by broken swords, arrows lodged in dried corpses, and craters left by magic explosions.
That was where the Eternal War between White Elves and Dark Elves took place. A curse of racial pride that refused to die.
However, far across those deadly waters, in the small villages hidden behind the shadows of the mainland forests, an impossible movement was taking place.
"You are asking us to oppose King Hedin? That is tantamount to suicide!" exclaimed a White Elf elder in a dimly lit village hall. His face was filled with wrinkles and exhaustion, his eyes glaring sharply at the two girls standing in the middle of the room.
"And you," a Dark Elf elder from the village across the river, who had been purposely invited to the secret meeting, pointed his cane at Vena, trembling with anger and fear. "You betrayed your own blood by submitting to a White Elf! If King Hogni finds out about this, he will behead us all!"
Amidst that rain of rejection and fear, Dina and Vena stood tall and unshaken. Dina, the White Elf with golden-blonde hair catching the torchlight, stepped forward. Her bright green eyes radiated a captivating calmness, not the least bit intimidated.
Beside her, Vena the Dark Elf stood with the elegance of a protector. Her tanned skin contrasted with her silvery-white hair, while her pair of deep red eyes watched every threat warily.
"We are not asking you to submit to either race," Dina said, her voice clear and flowing to every corner of the room, carrying the resonance of a wind that soothed boiling hearts. "We are asking you to look at reality."
Dina pointed toward the young Elf men and women—both white and dark-skinned—who stood crowded outside the village hall. Their faces were dirty, their bodies thin, and their eyes radiated the same despair that Dina had felt a few days ago.
"How many boys and girls have you sent to Hjaðningavíg? How many of them returned?" Vena continued her sister's words, her tone harsher and more piercing. "Those Kings sit on their thrones of blood, in the name of honor and racial purity. But what kind of honor makes a mother have to weep for her daughter who died hacked to pieces? What kind of pride makes us not even dare to walk in our own forest without fear of being ambushed by our own kin?"
The room fell silent. Vena's words struck right at their hearts. Exhausted. That was the absolute truth they tried to hide behind the mask of pride. Hundreds of years of slaughtering each other had eroded their souls away.
"We do not come bearing empty promises," Dina raised her right hand. In her palm, the Anemo-Calyx glowed, radiating a pure turquoise light, sweeping the stuffy air in the village hall into something fresh and smelling of a meadow. Vena did the same beside her. Two complementary vortexes of wind energy danced in the air, not oppressing, but protecting.
"The God who bestowed this power does not see skin color or blood purity," Dina said softly. "He only sees souls yearning for freedom. If you are tired of being pawns in the Kings' game of blood... join us. We will destroy that battlefield and bring our children home."
The villagers' gazes began to change. There was something very magical about these two sisters. The fact that a White Elf and a Dark Elf could stand side by side without killing each other was a miracle that violated the natural laws of their race. And seeing the incredibly pure turquoise-green light from those two crystals, the remaining walls of arrogance in the villagers' hearts finally crumbled.
A young Dark Elf man stepped forward, dropped his dagger, and knelt before the two of them. Followed by a White Elf woman. Then slowly, wave after wave of residents from various remote villages who had been hiding from conscription emerged from the shadows.
Within days, that small miracle spread like fire in a dry meadow. Hundreds, even thousands of Elves and Dark Elves who were sick of the Eternal War came out of their hidden villages. They no longer carried Hedin's white flag or Hogni's black banner. They cut up worn-out fabrics, sewing them into bright green banners bearing the image of three wing feathers—the symbol of freedom taught by the two wind-bringing girls.
Dina and Vena were appointed as their leaders, not out of coercion or fear, but out of pure hope. A third army had been born, preparing to shake the hell of Hjaðningavíg.
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Three days later, beneath the gray sky of Hjaðningavíg Island that never smiled.
Atop a rocky hill overlooking the battlefield, an elegant tent with white pillars and silk fabric was erected—in stark contrast to the condition of the battlefield below, which was covered in bloody mud. There, the White Elf King, Hedin Selland, stood.
Hedin was the personification of cold perfection. His posture was flawlessly upright, his bright blonde hair combed neatly without a single strand out of place. His eagle-sharp eyes were hidden behind thin-lensed glasses. His white magic robe was spotless from dirt, and his magic staff, which emitted small flashes of electricity, was gripped tightly in his right hand.
"Report," Hedin said flatly, his voice calm yet containing an authority that made his commanders break out in a cold sweat.
A White Elf commander with a dented chest plate knelt trembling before him.
"Y-Your Majesty! An anomaly has occurred on the southern coast of the island! A massive fleet has just landed and begun pushing our flank defense lines!"
Hedin furrowed his brow slightly, an expression equivalent to great wrath for anyone who knew him. "Forces from the south? Has that fool Hogni's black camp found a new supply line? Why didn't our scouts detect it?"
"T-That is the problem, Your Majesty!" The commander stammered, his face deathly pale. "They are not from Hogni's camp! They carry green banners... and... and what is even more horrifying..."
"Speak clearly, fool," hissed Hedin, a small spark of lightning flashing at the tip of his staff.
"That army... they consist of our race and... their race! White Elves and Dark Elves fighting side by side in one formation!"
A deadly silence descended upon the command tent. The White Elf generals looked at each other with looks of horror.
Hedin Selland fell silent for a few seconds before a vein bulged on his temple. He stepped forward to the edge of the cliff, took a magic telescope, and aimed it at the southern coast.
Through the crystal lens, Hedin saw something that made his stomach churn with immense disgust. It was the truth of his subordinate's report. A mixed army! Hundreds of white-skinned Elves fighting back-to-back with filthy Dark Elves, breaking through his own soldiers' lines. At the front lines of that strange army, a turquoise wind raged, deflecting magic attacks from both sides.
And in the center of that storm, Hedin saw the two figures leading them.
A Dark Elf darting like lightning, and... a blonde White Elf firing deadly wind blades. That White Elf stood protecting the Dark Elf.
Crack!
The crystal telescope in Hedin's hand was crushed by his grip, suddenly reinforced by lightning magic. Lightning flashed brightly in the sky, responding to the King's wrath.
"Ridiculous," whispered Hedin, his voice filled with deadly venom. "A disgusting parody. The lowest blasphemy of blood. How could my kind be willing to soil themselves by touching the hands of those filthy creatures? Truly... very, very inelegant!"
Hedin turned around, his white robe fluttering aggressively. His eyes flashed with pure murderous intent.
"Withdraw the right-wing forces from the fight against Hogni!" ordered Hedin mercilessly. "Focus the formation toward the southern coast. I want every traitor carrying that green banner burned by lightning until not even ashes remain! Especially that blonde wind-bringing White Elf... she has defiled our race's perfection!"
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Across the battlefield, in the gloomy black camp filled with the hanging skulls of enemies, the situation was no less chaotic.
Hogni Ragnar, the Dark Elf King, was sitting curled up on a large black boulder. His thin body was clad in dark armor that looked too heavy for him. His slightly long silver hair fell to cover part of his face. He was hugging his knees, trembling violently, and biting his thumb with an incredibly anxious expression.
"Uuu... i-impossible... there's so much blood... my head is spinning..." murmured Hogni softly, his voice very timid and pessimistic, muffled by the strands of his silver hair. "We are definitely going to lose... Hedin is so scary... his lightning is so bright, my eyes hurt... uuu... I just want to go home and sleep..."
The surrounding Dark Elf commanders could only sigh. They were very used to this side of their King's personality.
"Your Majesty Hogni, please listen," a female Dark Elf commander tried to speak softly. "We have a new problem. Our front lines in the south are being attacked by an unknown force."
Hogni flinched, his shoulders jumping in fear. "Hiii! A new army?! See... see! Hedin must have hired mercenaries! We're all going to die! Shattered to pieces into cosmic dust... uuu..."
"No, Your Majesty," the commander interjected quickly. "It is not Hedin's army. This army... they are very strange. The army is a combination of our brothers from remote villages allied with White Elves. They fly green flags and are led by two deadly wind mages."
Hogni stopped biting his finger. His eyes, which had been radiating fear, slowly widened behind his bangs.
"J-Joining... with... the pale Elves?" Hogni mumbled in despair.
"Yes, Your Majesty. They broke through our defense lines and told our troops to... go home. They intend to stop this war."
Suddenly, an incredibly eerie silence enveloped Hogni's body. He stood up slowly. His previously trembling hand moved down, grasping the hilt of the long pitch-black sword sheathed at his waist.
The moment his fingers gripped the sword hilt, a radical transformation occurred. Hogni's posture, which had been slouched in fear, immediately straightened. His muscles tensed. A dark reddish aura, like a blood mist, exploded from his body, suppressing the surrounding air until his commanders found it hard to breathe.
Hogni flicked his silver bangs back, revealing a pair of blood-red eyes that flashed with absolute madness. A sadistic smile tore across his face from ear to ear.
"GAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" A demonic laugh slipped from Hogni's throat, leaving no trace of timidity in his voice. He drew his sword, its black blade gleaming, reflecting the gloomy dawn light. "Stopping the war?! Making peace with that weak pale race?! Don't make me laugh until my guts spill out!"
Hogni stepped forward, licking his dry lips. He looked toward the south, where flashes of turquoise wind energy could be seen ravaging his troops from afar. His eyes caught a glimpse of a silver-haired Dark Elf moving as fast as a shadow, side by side with a White Elf.
"How beautiful..." hissed Hogni, his voice morphing into the growl of a bloodthirsty monster. "A stray black sheep with a white wolf. Betrayal! Rotting blood! They want to stop my party?! Then, I will carve their names in hell with this sword of mine!"
Hogni raised his sword high. "All troops! Forget that bespectacled bastard for the time being! Advance south! We grind those stupid traitors into minced meat for breakfast!"
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Hjaðningavíg Island had now transformed into a far more deadly theater stage. The two-sided battlefield that had lasted for centuries was suddenly torn into three poles of power.
In the middle of the barren expanse flanked by ravines and the sea, the green-bannered army led by Dina and Vena finally stopped marching. They formed a circular defensive formation, with the shield formations of both races uniting to withstand the onslaught.
To the north, thousands of elite White Elf soldiers lined up in a neat and deadly formation, accompanied by flashes of roaring lightning magic from the staff of King Hedin, who glared at Dina with disgust.
To the east, waves of Dark Elf troops surged forward like a sea of ferocious shadows, led by the mad laughter of the bloodthirsty King Hogni, staring at Vena like a delicious prey.
Dina and Vena stood side by side in the center of their army. The turquoise wind from the Anemo-Calyx swirled around their bodies, sweeping the smell of blood from the air and replacing it with the soothing scent of Cecilia flowers for their followers. The pressure from the two strongest monsters on the island (Hedin and Hogni) was suffocating, but the two sisters did not take a single step back.
Vena looked at Hogni laughing in the distance, then looked at her sister. "They will not listen to our words of peace, Sister. They are already too drunk on blood."
Dina closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. Her green eyes now flashed as sharp as a sword. "Then, we will use a language they understand, Vena."
The White Elf raised her hand high. The Anemo element exploded into the air, creating a massive updraft that carried Dina's voice to every corner of the battlefield, drowning out the sound of thunder and clashing weapons.
"Hedin Selland! Hogni Ragnar!" Dina's cry echoed with a majesty that jolted the soul of every soldier on the battlefield. "Your era ends today! We are the Wind of Freedom, and we have come to tear down your thrones of blood!"
The green storm grew larger, ready to collide with white lightning and black swords.
In Hjaðningavíg, a new history was being carved not with hatred, but with a storm. The turning point of the Elven race revolution had just begun.