IRE 11

Chapter 11

From the very moment I heard that so-called “princesses” were being chased by orcs, I knew there was something off about it.

I had only ever gone down the Beastkin annihilation route twice.
Once with the dwarves, and once with the orcs.

When it was with the dwarves, the condition for the ending didn’t really hinge much on the Beastkin being wiped out, so I never cared. But with the orcs, I tried to play without the Beastkin at all… only to be crushed when the difficulty skyrocketed.

So, both times I ended up on the Beastkin annihilation route, I never actually tried to prevent their destruction, nor did I bother to learn much about it.

It wasn’t even a storyline that was easy to stumble across later, and since I wasn’t playing as a Beastkin myself, I figured—what did it matter?

Besides, I wasn’t the type to follow guides step by step anyway. My style was to just run in headfirst, fight, and if it led to ruin… well, then it was ruin.

But who could have guessed things would turn out like this in reality?

All my karma, I suppose. Damn it.

While I was buried in thought, Atir suddenly spoke up.

—“Wait, didn’t they call those kids princesses? Does that mean the Kella family is royalty?”

“They’re Beastkin. Their tradition is that the strongest becomes king, and the Kella clan had the most high-born bloodlines among them. They’ve been royalty for quite a while.”

Atir, despite being a spirit, really didn’t know much.
Maybe it was because he’d spent all his life shut away in the forest with elves, oblivious to the outside world.

As I chatted with him, my mother was behind us, listening to the four cat sisters explain how they ended up fleeing in this state.

“So, the lot of you were chased by orcs.”

“Yes… we’re the only ones left alive. Everyone else… they’re all dead…”

“Oh, dear.”

With pity in her expression, my mother pulled them into her embrace.

As the mood turned weepy again, I sighed and decided to cut in.

“Hey, kid. Let me ask you one thing.”

“…What is it?”

The one who answered was the little girl of about ten—the one I had stopped earlier when she tried to leap at my mother.

She pouted when I called her “kid,” clearly not liking it.
But a kid is still a kid.

I ignored her sulking and pressed on.

“What about the other royals? Are you four the last of the royal bloodline?”

“…Sadly, all our older brothers are dead. We’re the only ones left.”

As expected.

Piecing together their story, it went like this:

One day, the absolute power of the royal family—centered around the “War Beast”—collapsed.

Since the Beastkin revere strength and believe that the strong must lead, it was natural the Kella clan rose as royalty. But, by the same logic, once they lost their strength, it was inevitable they’d be toppled.

The girl glossed over the details, simply calling it a “sudden rebellion.”
Which made sense—she didn’t fully trust us yet.

In any case, according to her, this so-called “sudden rebellion” left the royals helpless. Most were purged. Then the high-born houses began vying for the new throne, infighting and tearing each other apart.

Months passed like this—internal division, feeding on one another’s flesh and bones.

And then, somehow learning of their weakness, the orcs—another warlike race—struck.

The Beastkin, hollowed out by civil war, collapsed at the first blow. Only the royal children barely survived, fleeing until they ended up here.

So ended Kelban—the Beastkin capital and the heart of a three-hundred-year-old nation. A pitiful end, really.

It was nothing short of chaos, a disaster waiting to happen.

“Kelban, huh… that’s a long way from here.”

When I first saw them, I assumed they’d come from a nearby village, not all the way from Kelban.

‘If they just wanted to escape, hiding in some southern village would have been enough. Why come all the way here?’

I didn’t know.

Sure, I’d played this game for two years, but that didn’t mean I’d explored every map or spent much time with the Beastkin.

It didn’t take long to realize my speculation was meaningless.

‘Well, maybe those villages got destroyed by orcs too, and they had no choice but to keep running. That’s possible. The real issue is what their purpose is.’

So, I cut straight to the point.

“Did you end up like this because you lost the power of the ‘War Beast’?”

“How do you… know that?!”

“You and I wrestled earlier, remember? If you were truly a ‘War Beast,’ you wouldn’t have been stopped so easily by me.”

Exactly.

This girl—the same one who’d mistaken Atir’s healing flame for an attack and lunged at my mother—should have been far stronger if she really carried the War Beast’s power.

Even a child should have had strength enough to fling me aside.

…Or maybe not?

“Ugh…”

She shuffled her feet, clearly panicked at being found out.

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Kid, I get what you’re worried about.”

Then, suddenly, I remembered my own anxious behavior earlier—how jittery and uneasy I’d been.
Looking at these children, frightened and desperate, I saw myself reflected in them.

A wry smile escaped me.

“Relax. I’ve told you already—we’re not your enemies. Do I look like some villain who’d prey on guests of the forest?”

I tried to imitate my mother’s warmth in my tone. It wasn’t easy, but it seemed to work. The girl’s unease eased a little.

The way she swayed with every word of reassurance only proved how frayed her nerves were.

Kids really are difficult. Sensitive, dramatic, hard to handle.

I continued gently, thinking carefully about each word.

“Don’t worry. I may not have had my coming-of-age yet, but I’m still an elf. My pride won’t let me break the oath of the forest.”

“…You haven’t had your coming-of-age yet?”

That’s what she latched onto?

Her eyes sparkled, making me feel like I’d revealed something unnecessary.

“Yeah. Just about two weeks left.”

…Though, now that I thought about it, if things kept going this way, I might not make it back in time for the ceremony.

In the game, sometimes the tutorial would end before the coming-of-age, and the system just skipped you ahead to class selection with no penalty.

Still, it felt odd.

“So, you’re really young for an elf, then?”

“…I guess.”

To elves, one of the longest-lived races, someone not even twenty yet was just a child.

That’s exactly how the adults in our village treated me and my peers—children to be protected, nothing more.

“And yet you’re strong enough to defeat three grown elves…”

“I didn’t defeat them.”

The girl drooped, ears and tail sagging. Clearly, she felt inferior.

No wonder. While some elf brat was fighting and winning against adults, she and her siblings had lost their divine power, their people’s respect, and their kingdom.

Whether you call it inferiority or self-loathing, it wasn’t a pleasant feeling for her.

So, I reached out and tousled her hair.

“…Huh?”

She blinked up at me, wide-eyed, but didn’t pull away.

I smiled and said, “Don’t burden yourself with those kinds of thoughts. Not yet.”

I could only imagine the weight on her shoulders, hidden beneath the title of royalty.

But honestly—how could children like these be blamed?
The Beastkin, savage and warlike, followed only the law of strength. To them, royalty was synonymous with being the strongest.

And when the strong fell, it was only natural for others to take their place.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault.
Just bad timing.
Just opportunistic orcs swooping in when they saw weakness.

Besides, comparing themselves to me was meaningless. I was a broken character, after all—maxed-out potential from the start.

“…Esrin.”

“Hm?”

The girl closed her eyes briefly, savoring the touch of my hand.

“My name. It’s Esrin.”

“Ah.”

Right, we hadn’t even exchanged names yet.

I glanced at my mother—she’d already finished introductions with the others and was just smiling warmly.

“Elldmir Architea, of Re Luel.”

“Esrin. Esrin Kella. Nice to meet you, Elldmir.”

“I-I’m Ketrit Kella. You can call me Ket…”

“…Ersi Kella.”

One by one, they spoke their names.

Let’s see—eldest, Keris. Second, Ersi. Third, Esrin. Fourth, Ketrit.

Got it.

I smiled. “Looking forward to traveling together.”

However long it lasted, I was leaving the village behind with them.

That night, we camped in the forest.

It was my first time sleeping outdoors like this. Elves were children of the forest, living and breathing it—but I’d never actually camped under the stars before.

Had I been too focused on real combat all this time?

“I brought some dry branches.”

“Thank you, Er.”

They’d also gathered fruit for dinner, though it wasn’t enough for six mouths. I’d need to fetch more food soon.

“Er, come sit with me a moment.”

“Yes.”

As I turned to leave again, my mother called me over.

The kids were huddled inside a makeshift earthen tent she’d conjured with spirit magic, resting quietly. They looked comfortable enough.

When they noticed the food in my hands, they almost got up, but I gestured for them to wait until later. They pouted but sat back down.

Cute brats.

“What is it, Mother?”

“Er, I want to talk about what you showed today.”

“…Ah.”

She meant how I fought the three sentinels earlier.

So the moment had come.

I’d always hidden my training and combat experience from her, knowing she’d only worry and forbid me from pushing myself further.

I could already picture her crying, begging me to stop.

So I’d planned to keep it hidden until my coming-of-age. But thanks to those sentinels, that secret was out.

What would she say?

Scold me?
Of course.

Even if she was the kindest, warmest mother in the world, this was too big to ignore.

The thought of facing her anger for the first time in ages made me nervous.

Damn it. Fifty years old and still scared of my mother’s scolding.

“…When did my son grow so dependable?”

Instead, she just smiled and stroked my head.

I blinked, startled. “You’re… not angry?”

Her smile deepened. “Did you expect me to be?”

“Well… I did deceive you, Mother…”

“You know it was wrong to deceive me, then.”

“…Yes.”

So she was upset.

I shrank down, unable to reply. She sighed softly.

“Er, my son. The day you were born, it felt as if the forest itself had blessed you. As if the whole world sang for your arrival. I’ll never forget the sunlight on your brow, the wind brushing your cheek.

Your birth was my greatest blessing, my joy. Whatever training you do, whatever strength you gain, I have never once thought it was wrong.”

I widened my eyes.

“…You knew?”

Esiria gave a wry smile. “Do you really think we wouldn’t notice what happens in the forest?”

“…Damn spirits. Should I wring their necks someday?”

“Don’t you dare think such things.”

“…Was it that obvious?”

“A mother can always read her son’s face.”

I chuckled bitterly. I could never win against her.

“Every time you trained, the forest cried to me, begging me to stop you. Saying you were doing things that should never be done there.”

“…Couldn’t they phrase it differently? Makes me sound awful.”

I scratched my head awkwardly.

“Do you know how shocked I was the first time? I even went to the elder, pleading for him to save my son.”

“You went to the elder?!”

That explained it. He’d suddenly shown up once while I was training. I’d sensed him and barely escaped before he saw me. Afterwards, he always gave me this scary look.

So… he’d known all along?

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

That was what puzzled me most. If she knew how reckless my training was, why leave me be?

“Your teacher stopped me. He explained calmly what you were doing, why you were doing it, and the resolve behind it. He told me things even I, your mother, didn’t know. I was ashamed. I wished I had known you better.”

“…Oh.”

The atmosphere suddenly grew heavy, and I didn’t know what to say.

“Er, I worry. I’m proud of your strength, proud enough to burst. But I fear you’ll be dragged into disasters so great that only such strength could protect you. Every day, I pray to the guardian of the forest, yet this unease never leaves me.”

“….”

Her words made my heart jolt.

Because she wasn’t wrong. My training was to prepare for the great catastrophes of the game.

Was it a mother’s intuition? Or just love?

Whatever it was, Esiria saw the truth with frightening clarity.

All I could do was smile faintly and reply, “Don’t worry, Mother. I just want to be strong—nothing more.”

But in truth, I had no choice.

Racial wars, evil dragons, demons lurking beyond the veil, dark sorcerers, mad priests summoning powers they never should…

Omega World overflowed with calamities.

So many, in fact, that players often gave up preparing for them individually.

“It’s better to just brace yourself mentally,” they said. “Trying to prepare for every event is impossible.”

And they were right. No matter how carefully you prepared, something else always blindsided you.

So the only real preparation was strength.
Strength to overcome anything.

I had to grow stronger. Strong enough to resist every path to ruin.

“…I’ll go fetch more food now. And really, you’re worrying too much. Would such disasters truly happen here, under El Redarel’s watchful eye? Don’t worry. Instead, let’s focus on something real—like how I might miss my coming-of-age in two weeks.”

“…Hehe. You’re right.”

Her smile returned, and I smiled back.

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Go safely.”

We exchanged our usual farewell, as always.

Now, what should we have for dinner tonight?

If it were just the two of us, fruit would do. But with our cat guests…

“Guess it’s time for a hunt.”

Already humming to myself, I set off with light steps.