Tales of the Endless Empire

Chapter 345: Jack vs. Jawline

From a hundred meters out it was obvious to Thalion. This old elf was a spy. The impression was so stark he barely needed his title to confirm it. With his title the aura around the newcomer rang like an alarm bell. He talked, nodded and smiled, but the smile was one hundred percent counterfeit. The real problem was that the elf had already reached E-grade, if Thalion shifted into his crippled Eclipsari form, the old man would react. He wanted the elf alive, captured, questioned, squeezed for every scrap of information.Thalion scanned the clearing and located Jack, Josh, and Lee. The two younger men were arm-wrestling on a fallen log while Jack refereed, bellowing encouragements. “Hey. You three, I need help catching an elf,” Thalion called. Josh used the opportunity to pin Lee, slamming his opponent’s hand onto the wood. “AND THE VIPER WINS AGAIN!” Jack shouted, clapping in mock-fervor.

They turned to listen as Thalion outlined the plan. Lee looked annoyed at the loss but game nonetheless. Thalion did not want the elf to activate an escape token or slip away. The thought of those damned tokens made his skin crawl. He had two of them but hated the idea of relying on such failsafes.

Silently, Thalion closed in. He crept like a shadow toward the pair of talking elves while Josh, Lee, and the others split wide to encircle and cut off retreat. Jack went to fetch Evelyn because Thalion needed a healer at hand. He did not trust his own skilly for that task anymore.

From where he crouched, he could still hear the old elf talking to Athilrion and Kaldrek, weaving cautious words about unity. “Bring as many humans as you can to the fight with the incursion leader,” the elf counselled. “That way fewer will die and the overall growth will be harsher but steadier.” He sounded reasonable, dangerously reasonable.

Thalion kept his face carefully blank, his mask hiding the irritation gnawing at him as he strode closer. He cut into the old elf’s rambling with a light, almost casual question, as though this were no more than a friendly chat.

“Hey, someone said I should come over. What’s up?”

The elf’s answer came too quickly, too smoothly. “I’ve been cast out by my kin after a power play. I seek a new home..."

The rest was cut short by violence. A blur of motion, a body flung backward, and the solid crack of impact against earth.

“We got him,” Lee and Josh chorused, wrenching the old elf’s arms behind his back until a sharp snap echoed, a bone giving way.

“Quick! Check for escape tokens,” Josh barked, already digging through the elf’s robes.

The old man sputtered and thrashed, his protests breaking into panicked grunts as they stripped away layers of fabric. His face twisted in humiliation, only to freeze when Lee whooped in triumph and held a small brass disc aloft like a prize.

The elf’s eyes went wide, horror dawning too late. Athilrion, standing nearby, wore no such shock — only a grim set to his jaw. He knew exactly what it meant, though unlike the prisoner, his arms remained intact.

Evelyn arrived then, stepping into the circle like a blade. “You didn’t call me to be a running health potion,” she snapped. “What am I to you?”

Thalion’s answer was blunt. “That and I might have trouble with interrogation. I’ll need your help to make this bird sing.”

The old elf’s lips curled in protest. “You’re making a mistake. I am not your enemy,” he stammered, but Thalion’s title left no room for doubt. The aura around the man screamed duplicity; his claims were thin smoke.

“Bring him back where we can ask questions,” Thalion ordered. For safety, he had Jack shackle the old elf in slave manacles that choked off mana flow and severed access to other resources. Only then did the elf understand how badly he had misjudged the situation.

Athilrion followed silently, equally unconvinced by the visitor’s story. Why had the elf arrived so early? The timing smelled of artifice.

Josh and Lee flung the spy against a tree. The old man hissed in pain as damage accumulated. Evelyn wove her hands and a translucent barrier sprang up around the group, a small sanctuary in the press of bodies. A place to strip lies from a captive and see what truths bled through.

“Sound isolation and illusion. We can take our time,” Evelyn said matter-of-factly, her tone cool as a blade.

“Are you insane? I came here to help!” the old elf protested, desperation cracking his voice. His chains rattled as he strained against them, but the effort only made him look more pitiful.

Thalion’s jaw tightened. Torture had once been simple for him. The Sanguis Impera could bloom through a victim’s veins, heal them between agonies, and draw secrets out with cruel efficiency. But since the rise of his bloodline, and worse, the awakening of the curse, that path was no longer safe. He would need another hand to do the ugly work.

“Evelyn, start. We need answers. Certain… circumstances make me less suited for this than before,” Thalion said, gesturing at their prisoner.

“Wait! Why Evelyn? I’m also good at torture. Look!” Jack declared. He stepped forward and punched the elf in the face. The strike snapped the elf’s head sideways, earning a sharp grunt of pain. Jack’s blow hadn’t broken anything — he wasn’t strength-based — but it had startled their captive.

Josh folded his arms, unimpressed. “That’s not torture. That’s just annoying him.”

“Not enough? I’ll show you pain!” Jack growled. His aura flared, purple light burning in one eye as it began to glow ominously.

Thalion almost chuckled. The E-grade evolution fit Jack well, but when it came to interrogation, brute force was rarely the right tool.

“No, no, Jack. Watch.” Evelyn’s fingers lengthened into thin black claws, each dripping with a venom so caustic the air seemed to recoil. She traced a line across the elf’s chest, barely scratching the skin. The effect was instant. The elf screamed, thrashing in his chains, voice cracking in raw agony.

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Jack’s face lit up with reluctant admiration. “That doesn’t look hard. I can do it too.” He slammed his fist into the elf’s jaw again, harder this time.

“You haven’t even asked a question,” the old elf gasped, sucking in air between cries.

“Quiet! We’re settling something important, and I won’t lose.” Jack jabbed a finger toward him. “I was the one tortured once...”

“What the hell are you talking about? It was my fingers and toes they cut off!” Josh cut in, glaring.

“Yes, and I suffered greatly watching you! Have you ever thought about my pain? Of course not,” Jack shot back. He turned on the elf again, eyes blazing. “Now, where was I?”

The elf could only look between them, eyes darting in horror, as though unsure if his captors were lunatics or demons.

“Enough.” Thalion’s tone silenced the bickering. He crouched before the elf, crimson gaze heavy. “How did you find this camp?”

“It... it was a coincidence. You must believe me!” the elf pleaded. The lie clung to his words like oil, and Evelyn, seeing it as clearly as Thalion, raked her claws lightly across his ribs. The elf’s scream tore through the barrier, muffled to those outside but sharp to their ears.

“Maybe we should take turns asking?” Jack suggested sheepishly.

“No. You just want to keep punching him,” Lee said with a smirk.

“No! Okay… maybe at first. But now I really want the answers too,” Jack admitted, landing another strike across the elf’s temple.

Meanwhile, Thalion busied himself with a quieter task. He searched the elf’s clothes, stripping him down to his underwear while the others argued over methods of pain. Lee claimed open-handed slaps hurt more for spreading pain across the skin.

Josh countered that a fist drove deeper, breaking resolve faster. Jack simply liked how the elf’s head snapped back when he struck him. Evelyn, exasperated, ordered them away so she could work properly without also having to heal the poor wretch.

The elf’s eyes flitted from one captor to the next, caught between confusion, disdain, and dawning terror. Thalion ignored the chaos. His instincts prickled as his fingers brushed the lining of the robe. Without his title he might have missed it, but there a faint ripple of mana concealed in the fabric. With a sharp tug, he tore open the seam and revealed a token no larger than his pinky nail.

A tracking token. Recently purchased, judging by the lingering resonance. Strange. Tokens were supposed to vanish when the system reclaimed them.

How had an elf procured a tracking token? It seemed impossible. An act that reeked of divine intervention or a loophole too convenient to be mundane. Thalion’s mind raced through possibilities: who had dispatched the old elf, how had they discovered the camp so early, and could the tracker be used to trace them directly? If so, their position was perilously exposed.

Yet there had to be another explanation. The timing made no sense. It was only the third morning, and already elves had appeared on their doorstep. With seven days until the System Event, there was no way the enemy should have reached them so quickly.

Thalion remembered Kaldrek and Maike’s words. Those who stood near one another would spawn together for the System Event. The system’s rules were opaque and stingy with details, only the blessed or those who purchased secrets from the shop learned the finer points.

In Thalion’s view, the System owed them clearer guidance. For now, however, answers were more urgent than philosophy. “Evelyn, make him talk,” he said. “This looks graver than I thought. We need to know how he found us, and who sent him.” Jack, Lee and Josh fell silent and stepped back to let Evelyn work.

Evelyn obliged. Ten minutes of her claws carving a map of pain into the elf’s flesh finally softened his defenses. He screamed and writhed, but slowly the lies unspooled and truth began to leak out.

Thalion listened while the old man babbled, trimming each contradiction with the precision of a hunter peeling back hide. The first revelation hit hard. The elf had tracked the . The spy had discarded the token upon finding the camp, hoping to conceal his mission. Worse still, the informer’s handler was a Chosen, alarmingly close by and evidently eager to locate Thalion.

The implications settled over the group like a cold fog. Why had a Chosen sent a spy? The answer came in pieces until the elf, broken and bleeding, staggered into confession. The elves had been hunting Thalion, trying to capture and torment him into revealing the name of a non-existent patron. Athilrion’s face twisted as if he’d bitten sour fruit. His regret at joining the human camp was visible.

The story Elaria had fed the Chosen about Thalion painted him as irresistible prey, dangerous and desired. It was a precarious position for everyone, and Thalion felt no pity for himself. The threat extended to the entire camp.

Jack’s voice cut through the haze. “I thought you didn’t have a patron,” he said, curiosity edged with suspicion. Thalion bristled. Normally he would have dismissed the question. But with Athilrion present and the camp’s security at stake, he decided silence was wiser. Perhaps fleeing, splintering the camp, and dispersing was the safer option; staying together while elves hunted a single human was a recipe for disaster. The thought of abandoning the others sat poorly with him, yet survival demanded hard choices.

“Close the incursion first,” Thalion ordered, his voice cold and decisive. “Secure this elf. Make sure he cannot escape. I will deal with the rest once the incursion is down.” There would be a long, bitter reckoning afterward. For now, their shelter and the low-level humans who relied on it mattered most. The coming days would be merciless. Of that Thalion had no doubt.