[The body's condition has become critical. The host requires immediate treatment.]

[Restore health using 500 Blood Essence]

This was actually the sixth time that he had used this skill since he was captured. This time, his body automatically activated it without his consent.

Each time he had been on the brink of death, it was always this skill that had managed to bring him back.

There were times where the process had been quick, and there were other times where it had gone slower. On this day in particular, he had already passed out twice.

Even still, the skill had always been able to bring him back.

When he opened his bleary eyes, he realized he was slumped in what appeared to be the Forlorn City center. He was slowly regaining his vision; it was blurry, but he could see that at least a thousand Forlorn elves had gathered in front of the raised platform he was sitting on. He was being chained to a pole, unable to move even a single muscle.

The expectant faces below him all looked up, keenly awaiting the next spectacle. Suddenly, something flew in his direction, whizzing past at an incredible speed.

Thunk!!

"Urgghh!!" Tristan groaned, lamenting the sudden burst of pain that had erupted in his already aching muscles.

It was an arrow, and it had perched itself directly into his shoulder. The impact made blood spurt out everywhere as the audience before him roared. Gritting his teeth in immense pain, he quickly began to discern what the elves were doing to him.

The archer who had shot the arrow was among one of the group of elves that were lined up a few meters away from him.

Suddenly, a slight commotion could be heard as a figure approached him. It was the Forlorn prince, Janus Irethil.

"Greetings, Tristan!" He exclaimed, his arms spread wide as a wicked grin split across his face. "This time, you stayed awake for much longer. I almost thought that you weren't going to come back!"

The prince walked closer until he was towering above the wounded elf, pulling the arrow that had pierced his shoulder. The sensation made him wince, and he gritted his teeth harder.

"Amazing! Your wound has completely healed. One might think you were immortal, but you are not, aren't you?" He turned away from Tristan momentarily to gesture at the row of archers standing behind him. "Next!"

Thunk!!

Another arrow shot through Tristan's body, and once more, blood began to soak through his clothes. While still resisting the pain, in the distance, he heard the sound of Serene's voice reverberating across the square, ringing painfully in his ears. She was screaming loudly, begging the prince to stop.

"You crazy bastard!! Stop it!!

Looking to the side, he saw that she had been tied to another pole on his right. Meanwhile, on his left he saw Astrid, who seemed to be half dead from the number of beatings she had taken.

Prince Janus then shouted in front of his men, "Dear elves of Forlorn City, this man was sent by the Arcadian king! He stands to be punished for killing more than a hundred of our kin!"

This caused an uproar within the elf masses, who were now cursing at Tristan vehemently.

"Next one!"

With each command, another arrow pierced his body. He couldn't tell what kind of chains they had used to hold him down, but he could not move in the slightest.

Thunk!

This time, the arrow sunk itself into his waist; it must have hit a joint in his hip. Tristan roared in agony, tears of pain brimming his eyes.

As this was happening, the Forlorn prince continued to deliver his speech to the people.

"Those human mongrels dared to attack us! They even worked together with the Asgardians to plan our downfall!"

This time, the prince pointed towards the still bound Astrid, and immediately an arrow whizzed in her direction. As it pierced her chest, she suddenly jolted awake, choking out spurts of blood from her mouth.

At this moment, it had dawned on Tristan what purpose this spectacle served. The prince was using this chance to justify his ambitions toward the Forlorn elves.

The crowd grew even wilder as they cheered louder and louder at the punishment that was taking place. The prince added, "The sad part is, this was orchestrated by our own kind; the Vanyar elves."

Incredulous shouts and jeers could be heard from the audience. The prince continued, spreading his arms widely. A terrifyingly gleeful look was spread across his face.

"But we, the Forlorn, will not stay quiet!" He shouted manically. The sentence was immediately followed by a cheer from the elven citizens which echoed throughout the city center.

Once more, he approached Tristan's bleeding body. He pulled the arrow that was still sunk deep inside his abdomen, and in a swift, decisive move, the prince pierced it dab smack in the middle of his forehead.

With that, everything turned dark. Suddenly...

[Body's condition has become critical. Host requires immediate treatment.]

[Restore health for 500 Blood Essence points]

[Proceed?]

When he awoke, he was instantly hit with the most intense headache. His head pulsated painfully as the prince's mocking words rang uncomfortably in his ears.

"Even with a blow to the head you still survive. Interesting."

The prince turned towards the crowd.

"It appears that it's true! My brother, Prince Elroth himself, heard the man claim to be the legendary Blood Elf!"

This time, the crowd's vehement curses had been replaced with confused muttering.

As Tristan slowly regained his consciousness, he could hear the blind Prince Elroth speak at length to the masses about the legend and the prophecy of the Blood Elf. Some appeared to have heard of it before, nodding intently at the prince's words.

The blind prince tried to convince the elven elders to keep Tristan alive, but his demands fell on deaf ears. Prince Janus, however, had another reason.

"They say that the Blood elf cannot die. It appears they really are special!" He shouted as he waved his hand; a gesture that told his men to attack. But this time, it wasn't an archer who shot into action, but a mask-clad elf that towed a large, silver axe in one hand.

Prince Janus took the axe, raised it high into the air, and began to shout yet again.

"But it is I, Janus, who will be the one to break the prophecy!"

"Stop it! Stop it!" Cried Serene.

Turning to the side, Tristan was met with an anguished look on Serene's tear-stricken face.

This was it, Tristan thought. His downfall had finally arrived. Captured and tortured. If it wasn't because of his self-healing body, he would have died about half a dozen times already. But this time, he was convinced that this was the real, final end.

And it was all because of the new information that had just materialized in his mind.

[Blood Seal: 935]

He only had one last life yet, and from what he could see in front of him, the prince was moments away from severing his head. And although he was curious about the results, he believed that this time, his skill will not help him recover from such a devastating blow.

Tristan mustered up all the energy he had left to shoot a smirk in Serene's direction.

"Haha, wife, don't worry… I will not… die..."

Above him, the prince's axe glinted in the sunlight.

"We shall see!" Janus roared, before swinging downwards to the nape of his neck.

Splllaaatttttt!!!!

A white-haired head dropped onto the ground, followed by Serene's horrified, anguished screams.

This was the end for him. How could it not be? His head was already gone. It rolled pathetically across the wooden platform, leaving a trail of blood behind it. But it seemed that his consciousness was still intact. It was dark, and he could not hear nor feel anything, but it was certainly there.

Another notification appeared in his mind.

[Body's condition has become critical. Host requires immediate treatment.]

[Restore body for 500 Blood Essence points]

[Blood Essence - 435 points]

They still brought him back. He could hardly believe it. He could still be brought back to life. At the same time, all the Forlorn elves that had gathered before him screamed in horror at the sight of his decapitated body slowly reforming its lost head.

"You really can't die can't you…?" Prince Janus muttered. " Well, let see if this would."

Tristan's head was not even fully formed yet, but the prince took it as an opportunity for one last move.

From his ring, the prince took out a knife and stabbed him directly in the heart.

Clank!

The sound suddenly made him laugh hysterically.

"This is it! Your heart is the secret!"

The prince stabbed him one more time; not directly on the heart, but through the center of his chest. He used the blade to tear his flesh apart, ripping it into shreds before he finally found what he was looking for. A shining, golden elven heart.

He didn't waste his time and forcefully tore it out of Tristan's chest. He showed it to the crowd before him, the bloody heart still pulsating in his hand.

"The blood elf is no more!"

This time, there was no notification. No new information materialized in his mind. His vision dissolved into pitch black, and all his senses were numbed.

Tristan could feel his life gradually slip away from him, as if he was sinking into a deep, undisturbed slumber.

Until the Blood Lake appeared in front of him.