The Elf Journey In The Western Fantasy World-Chapter 105: Faith and Facades

Anos: "No, no, Illiya—it’s I who must ask for your understanding."

As the group politely conversed, they tacitly moved past the previous topic and shifted their attention to the next matter.

Anos smoothly changed the subject. "It’s nearly time for the banquet to begin. If we keep pushing responsibility around like this, we’ll have to reschedule the banquet."

With a cheerful smile, Illiya stepped onto the conversational step Anos had provided and followed his lead. "That’s true. Then we’ll trouble His Majesty the Demon King. Besides, we still have time to freshen up a bit. After all, attending a banquet in bathrobes..."

Anos instantly understood the unspoken part of Illiya’s sentence. "Then I won’t disturb you any further. In a little while, someone will come to escort you to the banquet. I’ll take my leave for now—see you at dinner."

With that, Anos turned and left the room without any lingering hesitation, casually closing the door behind him.

With a "click," the sound of the door shutting brought the two dreamwalking individuals back to their senses. Their faces immediately filled with regret, clearly remembering their dazed behavior just moments before.

Their faces alternated between pale and flushed, their thoughts unreadable but undoubtedly still tied to what had just occurred.

Illiya was quite pleased by this scene. His mood lifted noticeably.

Now that his sense of mischief had been satisfied, he had no interest in continuing to poke at their sore spots. After all, even the best of friends should know their boundaries.

Crossing the line was never a good thing.

Especially when his friends were currently experiencing the social equivalent of death by embarrassment. He wouldn’t dare bet on what would happen if their "social death" moment was ruthlessly exposed.

He only needed to remember one thing:

His Majesty the King of Areuseon Kingdom was a man with a pettier heart than the eye of a needle.

After Illiya and the others had tidied themselves up, they followed the palace servant waiting outside their room to the banquet location.

It was their first time observing ordinary demons of the demon race up close. There’s an old saying on the continent: by looking at the most common members of a race, one can gauge the overall condition of that race.

If the general populace carries a positive attitude and lives well, then overall, that race is likely thriving. But if the people lack optimism about life and are plagued by frequent misfortunes, then regardless of how well a small elite segment may live, the race as a whole is not in a good state. In fact, such a race could be on the verge of widespread conflict. freёnovelkiss.com

Of course, this is not absolute. There are countless races on the continent, all existing in various states of survival. There are even races where the entire continuation of the species rests on the shoulders of a powerful few. The stronger the elite, the stronger the race. But such cases are rare.

The demon race did not belong to that rare category—yet at the same time, it resembled them.

This race had no belief system, placing their faith solely in the Demon King. To put it starkly, the demon race could live without their seven most powerful demon lord, but they could not live without the Demon King. He was everything to them.

This was a fanatical belief—focused on one person alone.

To be blunt, if the Demon King ordered the demons to commit suicide, they might not even ask why.

That’s how irrationally devoted this race was.

It was bizarre—and, at times, even enviable.

From observing the demon populace, one could truly measure their happiness index.

Illiya had all sorts of scattered thoughts swirling in his mind. He shook his head, brushing aside the strange notions, and turned his focus to carefully observing the palace servant walking ahead of them.

The servant had dark skin, short brownish hair, and eyes that were a reddish shade of black. He wore a robe similar to a magician’s, but unlike traditional robes, the demon’s attire was cinched at the waist with a broad belt, effectively emphasizing the physical advantages of his race.

As previously mentioned, demons were a race of battle maniacs, and the demon realm revered strength above all else. Surviving there required tremendous effort. Any resources one needed had to be fought for.

Thus, demon bodies were not the lean, fragile type. They generally had broad shoulders and narrow waists—slim in clothes, muscular without them. Visually pleasing, to say the least.

The palace servant standing before them perfectly embodied this image. Perhaps due to working inside the demon palace, his skin looked better than those demons they had seen outside the palace earlier.

Whether in spirit or physical appearance, the palace servant far exceeded their expectations—so much so that the difference was like night and day.

This clearly indicated that the demon race was changing. They were improving.

Even so, Illiya couldn’t help but wonder:

Had the Demon King’s presence truly had such a profound impact on the demons?

Or, more broadly, was the emergence of a figure wielding ultimate authority really so vital to the well-being of an entire race?

It was the first time Illiya had ever questioned this.

Although the elves also regarded their Elf King as the highest authority, Illiya’s education from a young age had never emphasized such ideals. In fact, even his teacher—the Elf King himself—didn’t entirely agree with that view.

Illiya would never forget what the Elf King had once said to him.

"Everyone in your tribe believes in you. Whatever you say or want to do can be carried out without question. Doesn’t that sound cool?"

"But Illiya didn’t think it was cool at all. On the contrary, he felt exhausted. To be honest, it made him feel stifled and suffocated. Stripping away the title of Elf King, at the end of the day, he wasn’t any different from the most ordinary of elves—perhaps even more ordinary than them."