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Chapter 9
Ah, damn. That really made my skin crawl.
Eldmir forced himself to calm his still-pounding chest.
He had fought against other races plenty of times, but never once had he imagined there would come a day when he would have to point his bow at his own kin.
What would happen if he truly fought against his own people? What if, for committing such a crime, he were banished from the forest?
It had only been a brief moment, yet countless thoughts had raced through his mind—ranging from “Surely I wouldn’t really be exiled over something like this,” to “But what if I actually am banished?”
Luckily, things had ended well. But if the others had chosen confrontation, then whether he was exiled or not, the fact remained that he would have come perilously close to committing a grave crime. After all, one of the forest’s teachings strictly forbade killing one’s own kin.
Wait. Come to think of it, didn’t the Elder once mention that as long as there was no loss of life, a certain degree of fighting was acceptable…?
Sparring, in fact, was even encouraged.
Soon, Eldmir set aside his wandering thoughts and focused on the present situation.
“Thank you for accepting my proposal.”
“…It’s fine. In fact, we should be the ones thanking you for yielding.”
From Eldmir’s earlier display of restraint, Istein could already tell just how powerful he was.
He didn’t know how it would turn out if all three of them fought at once, but it was clear at a glance that this young elf was immensely strong.
And yet, instead of forcing matters, that powerful one had chosen to resolve the situation peacefully, even offering a proposal Istein could accept.
To stubbornly insist otherwise now would be nothing but arrogance.
“Erya…”
Esiria looked at her child with eyes of astonishment. She had never truly believed Istein’s group would back down.
But her own son, the child she had raised, had made this happen.
The fact that he had grown so much filled her with pride. This boy who was always hot-tempered and foul-mouthed—who constantly clashed with people whenever he spoke—had, for once, resolved conflict with strangers in a peaceful way. (At least peaceful compared to the usual troubles in the village.)
Esiria’s eyes welled up with tears at her son’s growth.
“Wait, Mother, why are you crying? Things turned out well… Didn’t you say to trust me? Were you not trusting me after all?”
—Could anyone really have trusted you?
Atir, who was linked to Esiria’s mind, chuckled as he recalled all the anxiety and worry she had held.
—It’s something worth crying over. Leave her be and just finish what you were saying.
“……”
Damn it.
Eldmir muttered curses silently in his mind and looked at Istein.
Noticing Eldmir’s bitter expression, Istein tilted his head in confusion.
“What’s wrong?”
“…Nothing. In any case, I’m glad things ended amicably.”
Amicably, huh.
The moment he said the word, Eldmir couldn’t help but smile wryly.
Sure. Amicably—at least, from the elves’ perspective.
He glanced at the beast-kin girls.
They were still desperately whispering to Teia—Now’s our chance, let’s run!—or urging him to wait for an opening to kill all the elves.
…Yes.
It might be over peacefully for the elves, but to them, this was nothing but the tyrannical verdict of oppressors deciding their fate.
“I’d like to know your name.”
Pulling back his gaze, Eldmir asked calmly.
After a moment’s pause, he replied:
“Eldmir Arhitea of Rluiel.”
Upon hearing the name, Istein extended his hand.
“Istein Atugate, Sentinel of El Rien. I pay respect to the spirit of your forest.”
Though hesitant, Eldmir gripped his hand firmly. Istein spoke in a low, weighty tone.
“But Eldmir Arhitea, as you have the duty to guide your guests, so too do we have the duty to eliminate the enemies of the forest. The beast-kin are a threat by their very existence. I’ll ask one last time—are those catfolk truly your guests?”
At that, Eldmir glanced at Teia.
Feeling his gaze, Teia turned from the girls and looked back at him.
As a warrior, his senses were sharp—he understood the meaning in Eldmir’s eyes.
And he nodded faintly.
“…There must not be any enemies of the elves among my guests. Therefore, I can say with certainty: the catfolk are our guests.”
Which meant—anyone other than the catfolk were not Eldmir’s guests.
Neither the sentinels nor the beast-kin failed to grasp that meaning.
“Teia…!”
The catfolk girls burst into tears, clinging to his feet.
Teia placed a steadying hand on each of their shoulders.
“You’ll do well even without me. …Much as I hate to admit it, that elf will be of help to you in this forest.”
He cast a brief glance at Eldmir.
Though Eldmir nodded calmly, inwardly his feelings were tangled.
He had gone to such lengths with Atir to keep Teia alive, only to now watch him walk willingly into death.
It was an unwanted sacrifice, yet a necessary step—so he forced away the discomfort of guilt.
The catfolk clung to him, but Teia gently pushed them away. He knew the time had come.
“Istein.”
Eldmir suddenly spoke, opening his mouth as if to say more—then closing it again.
“…Nothing.”
“…Very well.”
Istein and the other sentinels slowly advanced, moving past Eldmir and Esiria until they stood before the wolf-kin.
Teia stepped forward to meet them.
Still limping from his injuries, the wolf-kin warrior stood tall before the five elves.
His body was ragged, torn and filthy, scars of a thorn-strewn path etched upon him. Yet his eyes did not waver.
He was a warrior—proud even before death.
Standing before the sentinels who would be his executioners, he declared:
“I… I alone am your enemy.”
It was his final proclamation: a plea to spare the catfolk girls, and a vow never to abandon his warrior’s pride.
“Listen to the beast barking.”
Erban sneered in distaste.
In his hand was the bow Eldmir had broken earlier—now repaired. Restoring wood was a simple magic any elf could perform.
And the other sentinels had readied theirs as well.
Teia growled lowly. His eyes glowed like blue flames.
“I am Teia Drakgaya, child of Kelga and guardian of Kelban. I await the call of Kelga who shall one day take my soul, and as your enemy I will meet my end as a warrior. Do not think my teeth dulled just because I stand before you in this state… I can already taste the blood.”
As if he truly could, Teia licked his lips.
The sentinels shivered despite themselves—an instinctive reaction.
A beast facing death is at its strongest.
“Teia.”
Eldmir called his name without thinking. He knew it wasn’t the time, yet felt compelled.
For an instant, Teia’s burning eyes flickered toward him.
“…Are you not afraid of death?”
Teia laughed.
“Kelga’s children believe that when they die, they return to the homeland he has prepared for warriors. Eternal battle, endless ecstasy. For us, death is not an end, but a passage to ascension.”
A paradise reached through death.
Eldmir thought it naïve—barbaric, even fanatical. Yet he could not bring himself to scorn it outright.
He only shook his head.
Could such a heaven, reached through killing, really exist?
“There is no paradise awaiting murderers, warrior.”
At Eldmir’s murmur, Teia continued to stare straight ahead.
What was he looking at? Not the sentinels—something beyond them.
Arrows were drawn against bowstrings.
Death aimed for his head, his neck, his heart.
“Be it hell or heaven, there will be a place for me in Kelga’s embrace. What matters is that Kelga always prepares a fitting place for his warriors…”
His lips curled back, baring sharp teeth.
His ears and tail bristled as his body began to change.
His hair grew wild like a mane, spilling down his back to his tail.
His muscles bulged, his hands twisting into claws.
The true form of a beast-man emerged.
“…And Kelga does not call cowards warriors.”
A savage roar shook the forest.
At the same instant, three arrows flew.
With shocking speed—despite his injured leg—Teia leapt. But the sentinels moved even faster, intercepting his wild strikes.
They surrounded him, circling through the forest like dancers, loosing arrow after arrow.
One by one, shafts pierced his body. The wounded beast roared in pain.
From behind, Eldmir heard the girls sobbing.
Even with their vision blurred by tears, they refused to look away. They etched every moment of his dying struggle into their eyes, as if to never forget.
“…This is what it means to be a warrior race.”
This was the playstyle Eldmir had always admired. He had once relished playing orcs, barbarians, even werewolves. All long ago now.
Unconsciously, his fist clenched.
Finally, an arrow pierced the beast’s heart.
One of the catfolk girls gasped.
The beast groaned.
“…Kelga…”
Exhaling one last breath, the warrior collapsed.
That was the end.
“Mother of the forest, guardian of all elves, El R’darel—your servant has once again fulfilled your will beneath your blessing. Do not withdraw your grace, and may the prosperity of your servants endure.”
Istein prayed quietly.
It was tradition for a sentinel to offer a prayer after carrying out his duty. This time, he prayed as representative of the three.
One prayer for one death.
Eldmir smirked bitterly inside.
Murderers offering prayers for those they kill—how laughably self-serving.
Old-fashioned elves. This was what he disliked about them.
Ignoring the wails of the catfolk behind him, Eldmir addressed the sentinels.
“…Your duty is done, then.”
Istein regarded him for a moment before nodding.
“…Yes. We have no further reason to remain here.”
He signaled the others.
They nodded and turned away.
Just before leaving, Istein cast one final glance at Eldmir.
“May the blessing of the forest walk with you.”
“……”
Eldmir gave a wordless nod.
Soon the three sentinels disappeared from sight.
Keeping his senses spread wide, Eldmir eventually confirmed they had truly gone.
He lingered a moment, then turned his gaze to Teia’s body.
One leg shredded, his heart pierced, his body riddled with arrows like a hedgehog.
A gruesome sight—yet on his lips remained the faint trace of a smile.
The smile of a man satisfied with his final end.
