The Paranoid Elf Queen Turned Me Into Her Sister

Volume 3 Chapter 11 – Cursed with Malice

Smoke mingled with embers and dust swirled across the fields and countryside. The once warm sunlight cast over the earth now carried a strange, blood-like crimson hue.

I rushed to the city gate without pause and found the gates wide open. The guards were nowhere to be seen—not even those who usually threw trash down from the ramparts with arrogant flair.

The guards were all gone?

I had thought that if the city had fallen, the gate would be a scene of chaos. But to my surprise, everything outside the gate was peaceful and serene, with no signs of combat.

What was going on? Could there be another entrance into the city?

Once inside, a cacophony of chaotic noise came from all directions. Flames soared into the sky, bathing the town in a hellish red glow. Blood Curdling screams and cries filled the air—a veritable human purgatory, with severed limbs and corpses scattered everywhere, blood flowing freely.

The corpses strewn across the ground wore a variety of clothing—some in rags, some stained silk that still hinted at wealthy backgrounds, others clad in armor, torn limb from limb.

It had only been one night, and this already-unnatural city had transformed into a fiery hell.

Many figures still writhed feebly in pools of blood, until even their last instinct to survive faded away.

I noticed that most of the dead were armored—soldiers and guards of this town. They had died the most gruesome deaths, hacked apart, their bodies dismembered and scattered. Blood rained from the sky.

As for the ordinary townspeople, most had died with their bodies intact. Some didn’t even bear fatal wounds.

It felt deliberate—was this attack targeted specifically at the guards and soldiers?

I pressed my forehead lightly. Perhaps it was my first time seeing such a blood-soaked, brutal scene. The bloody sky left my thoughts in disarray.

The scene stirred a heart-wrenching pain within me. It was like ink bleeding through water, seeping from my heart to my entire body.

Cold sweat beaded on my forehead. Severed limbs, collapsed walls, piteous cries and wails—countless innocent souls perished in this unwarranted calamity, cast from their homes.

This one city represented countless families, millions of people—how many would lose their lives or loved ones in this massacre?

And most of them were innocent.

Suddenly, the scene shifted. When I opened my eyes again, the inferno and corpses remained, but the bodies were no longer human—they were elves.

I raised my trembling hands, staring at my bloodstained palms, eyes wide.

Fire dragons. A spear piercing into the belly. Blood and shattered organs pouring out...

The elf corpses on the ground stabbed into my eyes and chest like needles. Every breath was a searing pain, grief flooding my soul.

I didn’t understand what was happening to me. Why was I feeling such sorrow? Why was I seeing these images?

Unknowingly, I lowered my head—until a gentle touch brushed my cheek.

Startled, I looked up to see Yimi standing before me, her expression complex, gently wiping the warm liquid that had trickled down my cheek with her small hand.

Only then did I realize I’d lost control of my emotions. Two streams of tears had fallen down my face.

"Are you alright?" It was the first time Yimi had shown genuine concern when addressing me.

"I'm fine," I shook my head and stood up, taking out a handkerchief to wipe the salt from my cheeks.

I was a grown man—how could I lose control so suddenly? How embarrassing.

I didn’t know why I’d felt such overwhelming sorrow. It was as if I’d truly felt the pain the townspeople were going through—as if it were my own.

I was never such a sentimental person.

Also, in that fleeting image, my hands hadn’t been mine. They were a woman’s.

Were those Teresa’s memories?

Had the similar scene triggered residual memories in the body, which then influenced my emotions?

But why was Teresa standing among her fallen kin, her hands stained with blood?

All the surrounding elves had died, and she alone remained alive—wasn’t that too implausible?

I glanced meaningfully at Yimi.

Could it be... Yimi’s memories...?

“What is it?” Yimi asked as she noticed me staring.

“Nothing.” I shook my head.

“You weren’t acting normal just now.”

“What, are you worried about me? Worried about your enemy?”

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I just don’t want any unnecessary trouble,” she replied, glancing at me.

I forced myself to focus—now wasn’t the time for speculation.

At first, I thought a force was attacking the city. Then I considered whether it was a clash between the guards and rebel forces.

But inside the city, all signs pointed to something far more complicated. Rebel forces couldn’t possibly be strong enough to tear apart the Empire’s garrison. Even if undisciplined, these soldiers were still Imperial troops. There might even be Divine Princesses or mages among them. No band of farmers with pitchforks and sickles could defeat them.

I was eager to understand what had truly happened here.

“Swish! Swish!”

Just as I was about to move forward, I sensed arrows flying toward us. I grabbed Yimi and stepped back. The next moment, two cold arrows struck where we had just been standing.

“Who’s there?!” I shouted.

Two figures stood atop a burning rooftop. They wore grotesque weeping-face masks and loose clothing that concealed their figures. Their long hair flowed in the wind.

I could sense those arrows weren’t meant to harm—only to force us back.

These two weren’t trying to hurt us. Or perhaps they just didn’t think it was necessary.

“Who are you? Did you start the fire in Kanz City?” I pointed my flintlock at them.

“Don’t accuse us. We just arrived ourselves. We’re not shouldering that blame,” said the shorter one, voice distorted by some enchanted sound transmission—impossible to tell if it was male or female.

“Do we know each other?” I placed Yimi down gently, frowning.

“Probably not.”

“Then why attack us?”

“Sir, I think you’re mistaken. You’re not worth our time,” said the masked figure standing tall on the roof’s edge.

“That was just a warning—to prevent you from interfering with this hard-won ‘racial divergence.’”

“Racial divergence? What are you talking about?”

“Every race in this world originates from the slumbering Seven Saints,” the masked one explained calmly. “Yet even so, gene expression is incomplete. Some genes remain dormant. A single race can evolve in different directions.”

I could barely understand what they were saying, but it seemed they didn’t intend for me to understand.

“Explaining more won’t help. Just know—stay behind the line and you’ll be safe. We’re not after your lives.”

“Save it,” I sneered. “Wrapped up like dumplings, doing shady deeds in comfort—you don’t even have the courage or qualification to be proper villains. Pathetic.”

I raised my flintlock and fired without hesitation.

White smoke curled as the bullet casing popped out.

The masked figure in back unfurled a magic scroll, transforming it into a golden ribbon that blocked the bullet, leaving only a charred smear.

I activated Divine Appraisal to scan the two.

[Dulin]

[Yuna]

Two names appeared before me—both seemingly female. Oddly, the Appraisal couldn’t detect their surnames.

No surnames meant one of two things: either they were obscure commoners, or they’d been disowned by their families.

The former was common; the latter extremely rare. What could warrant expulsion from one’s own bloodline?

They hadn’t released their Divine Authority or domain, so I couldn’t get more info.

Yet Divine Appraisal doesn’t lie. No data escapes it.

Take the race section, for example.

When I saw it, I froze.

Their races were identical—and listed as “???”

Question marks? What??

I’d never seen such a thing in all my time using Divine Appraisal. The technique draws from a vast knowledge base compiled by sages. It auto-matches known races.

If even Divine Appraisal couldn’t identify them, there was only one explanation.

Their race did not exist within the current known species.

How was that possible? Even demons were recorded. These two—how could they be completely untraceable?

Who the hell were they?

“You insist on blocking our way?” I pressed the violet crystal on the flintlock.

“Then I’ll blast you both to dust.”

The crystal lit up, and the entire weapon glowed violet.

This was the flintlock’s overload mode, a feature forged from Crown Jewels.

I held the trigger. A searing heat surged through the barrel as bullets spat forth like a machine gun, unleashing a storm at the rooftop figures.

Each shot pounded the magic barrier, leaving scorch marks like meteors. The roar was relentless.

Bit by bit, the barrier cracked under the onslaught.

Within, the masked figures stood with arms crossed. One turned to the other.

“That should do.”

“The data collector’s finished. Time to leave,” said the other.

“Let’s leave them a parting gift,” she added, tossing a green alchemy potion downward.

“Boom!”

As the barrier shattered, the two unfurled a scroll and vanished.

“What?!” I froze.

A spatial scroll?! These two even had one of those?

No matter how rich you are, such items aren’t for waste. They could’ve escaped in other ways, yet chose the safest option—teleportation.

This wasn’t just wealth. It was absurd. Spatial scrolls are relics of a lost era—once used, gone forever.

Who was backing them?

The potion hit the ground, shattering into glass. The green liquid vaporized into thick mist on contact.

This fog...?

Yimi quickly used Divine Appraisal, her expression grim.

“Turn off your flintlock—now!”

“That substance vaporizes on contact with air. As a gas, it becomes dangerously unstable—it reacts to Divine Authority and heat, releasing skin-peeling toxins!”

I immediately shut off my flintlock—but too late.

The green mist turned purple in the heat. The corpses it touched blackened, their skin sloughing off like dried leaves.

What kind of anti-human alchemy was this?!

I pulled out the Golden Butterfly Hairpin and placed it in my hair.

Golden butterflies fluttered past. The golden-haired girl threw out three budding sprouts. Vines and giant bloom traps formed a barrier, blocking the poison.

As Verdant Fragrance absorbed the toxic mist, Teresa hugged Yimi and leapt onto the rooftop in a golden flash.

Yimi watched the poison spread with lingering fear. The corpses it touched had their skin harden and fall like shattered ceramic, revealing rotting flesh.

“This is [Cursed with Malice],” Yimi murmured to herself. “An ancient alchemical potion so cruel it was banned long ago.”

“The formula should’ve been lost for a thousand years...”