Fire That Leaves No Trace

In the lands of Terramyr, within the remote and small kingdom of Ironholm, the shift inside the factory proceeded just like any other day.

"Let's move."

"Yeah, lead the way."

Inside the "factory," the guards, displaying relaxed and satisfied expressions for a job well done, dragged the immobilized and inert elves toward the "Break Room."

"......Gyaaaah...!"

However, upon crossing the heavy doors of the chamber, a chorus of harrowing, inarticulate shrieks reverberated from deep within, uttered by voices that hardly seemed to belong to rational beings anymore.

"...As always, it's a sight worth beholding."

Inside the room, dozens of elves, bound with far greater severity than on the main assembly line, writhed their bodies as a thick, viscous liquid gushed uninterrupted from between their legs.

"You couldn't be more right..."

In Terramyr, magical energy possesses distinct qualities.

"Ah...♡ fuuh...♡ haaah...♡"

"M-More...♡ give me...♡ aaah...♡"

"W-Who... am I...♡? Aaaah...♡"

The higher the purity and quality of the extracted flow, the more devastating and potent the magical tools and war contraptions fueled by the personality synthetic slime residue gathered on the high-end production line, intended entirely for the front lines.

"Can we just drop them off over there...?"

On the other hand, in contrast, the lower-grade slime produced en masse in the break area was not wasted; instead, it was channeled directly to supply the everyday energy grid and resources of the kingdom.

"Gii...♡ Ugi...♡ Ugigi...♡"

Next, as the guards advanced through the hall, they passed right beside an elf with a red ponytail.

"I don't think it's a good idea to leave her here..."

In the past, before her capture, a single quick and precise sweep of this warrior elf's leg was enough to sever flames with the sharpness of fire, having trampled legions of enemy soldiers on the battlefield.

"...The place is already pretty packed."

She was Kaikarjukka, the famous "Fierce Crimson Leg."

"Gah...♡ Agh...♡ Aghagah...♡"

On the other hand, beside her stood an elf with eyes that once seemed capable of seeing through everything, peering out from beneath her short emerald hair.

"In that case, maybe there's space further back."

Her name was once Cecilia Sicilia, the elf of the "Great Emerald Eyes," who used to maneuver and command entire armies with her brilliant, infallible battle orders.

"Go...♡ Ogo...♡ Ogogo...♡"

And finally, moving a bit further past them, was revealed the presence of another ancient elven heroine known by the name Puruapaupnika, nicknamed the "Blue Steel Arm" in honor of her signature navy-blue hair combed back to her shoulders and her powerful fists capable of shattering iron, which had devastated multiple war fronts.

Yet despite that, these three women—who were once wise and feared leaders at the head of elven warrior contingents—had been captured by the combined forces of the kingdom of Ironholm and the demon troops after a desperate resistance.

However, their status as heroines did not save them; instead, they were reduced to simple magic power generation plants.

"Oh, I finally found an open spot!"

In their current state, all three wore heavy headpieces covering their eyes completely, resembling integrated visors that emitted an eerie, constant glow while their bodies continued to be squeezed without rest.

"Perfect, let's set these three up right here."

The reason these distinguished elven sages ended up on the lower production line in the break area—while other warriors were processed on the upper line—lay precisely in the visors mounted upon them.

Originally, those visors were simple life-support and virtual reality devices brought by the Demon King on one of his many journeys across alternate worlds, designed merely to induce sleep.

Nevertheless, Ironholm's engineers modified them to operate at high speed and power, forcing the captives' minds to relive their past lives through simulation.

As a result, the simulation imprinted memories with such rapid and precise persistence that, to their consciousness, it was exactly as if they were living them anew.

Thanks to this, it became possible to continually refill the elves' emptied souls with information, accelerating the constant restoration of their magic energy. Thus, the extraction process via the slime occurred simultaneously with the excretion, guaranteeing that, in theory and as long as the machinery did not short-circuit, the personality-laden mucus could be expelled in a semi-permanent loop.

"Phew... All done."

However, forcing an entire lifetime into a mind places an immense strain on the brain, enough to cause an irreversible short circuit in the mind of an average human or even an average elf.

"That secures them in place."

Because of this, to overcome such an obstacle, the engineers selected only those elves whose bodies and minds demonstrated superior strength or resilience capable of enduring such neurological punishment.

"Hey, we're almost done with the shift."

Even so, not even those exceptional warriors could indefinitely endure having a new life infused into them every time they expelled the previous one as magic power.

"Ogo...♡ Ogogo~♡"

"...♡... Aghagah...♡"

"Gii...♡ Ugi...♡"

As a result, in the present, the brilliant minds they once possessed when serving as sages and leaders of the forest had completely ceased to exist.

"You up for a few drinks after we hand over the shift?"

And as time passed, the new elves integrated into the machinery would inevitably reach their limits and collapse.

"Of course I am!"

But that did not pose a real issue for the small kingdom backed by the Demon King, as elven forests still stretched across various corners of the continent, guaranteeing a steady supply of captives.

"Awesome... Sniff, sniff... Wait a second..."

Furthermore, the fact that several elves had managed to escape during the initial invasions did not affect their plans; for Ironholm's facilities, current resources remained more than sufficient to supply their everyday needs...

"...Does something smell like burnt meat?"

Just then, as the guards chatted casually, an irritating, charred odor cut through their conversation.

"What are you talking about? Why would it smell like meat in here...?"

Minimizing his companion's doubts, the other guard brushed it off, slapping his shoulder in a completely relaxed manner.

"Maybe you're just hungry from talking about drink—"

His words cut off sharply mid-sentence.

"!?!"

Emerging from behind him and taking the standing guard completely by surprise was a hooded silhouette.

"..."

Upon spotting it, it was only for an instant that the man found himself face-to-face with a pair of electric blue eyes staring back at him, freezing his blood in instant shock.

(Fshhhhh-WHOOSH!)

In a fraction of a second, the body of the guard in front of him burst into flames, engulfed in ravenous black fire.

"W-What the hell...! Alar—!"

In response, his companion tried frantically to react, defend himself, and sound the alarm for the entire facility, only for the pitch-black fire to consume him a moment later with the exact same lethal precision.

"...."

In the end, where both guards had been standing rigidly just moments before, there now stood the hooded figure, shrouded in deathly silence as the shadows of the room molded beneath their feet.