IRE 10

Chapter 10

“His body must be taken care of.”

It was Eshiria’s voice.

“Taken care of? Right now?”

“Yes. If I could follow my heart, I would send his remains along with the others, but our journey does not allow such time.”

She was right.

The World Tree’s forest was vast—so vast that even “immense” wasn’t enough to describe it.

The northern region, where the beastmen’s village was presumed to be, was still far away. If it were only the two elves, Eshiria and Eldmir, it might not have been so bad, but since they had to match their pace with the feline beastkin girls, the trip would take at least two weeks.

Granted, this was the Elves’ forest, so real danger was rare. Still, they were in the outer region.

At any time, they might encounter wandering monsters, just passing through. Or, as had just happened with Istain, beastmen sentries from other villages might notice signs and come to investigate. There was also the chance they could run into the pursuing orcs they had worried about in the beginning.

If they didn’t take care of Teia’s body now—by burial or cremation—they wouldn’t even have the chance later.

After some thought, Eldmir approached one of the still-crying feline girls—Keris.

“Um… should I call you Keris?”

“…What do you want?”

Her voice was still wet with tears, yet sharp with resentment.

Though her anger wasn’t aimed at him but at the three fallen sentries, Eldmir flinched nonetheless.

“How do beastmen handle their dead? Burial? Cremation?”

“…Children of Kelga, when death comes, cast off the husk of flesh and return as spirits to his embrace. The body left behind is usually burned, as a way to honor the spirit.”

Of course.

Eldmir gave a small nod and turned to Atir.

“Burn it.”

―“Got it.”

Better to cremate a beastman’s body in the Elves’ forest and give the ashes to her people than burying it here. That was better for both sides.

When the body had been burned to ash and bone dust, Eshiria used spirit magic to craft a small earthen urn and placed the remains inside.

She sealed the lid and handed it to Keris, who accepted it with reddened eyes.

“…Thank you.”

It was still too soon to expect them to recover from losing someone dear.

Eldmir wanted to give them more time to grieve, but time was not on their side.

He couldn’t bring himself to rush them either. For all his rebelliousness, Eldmir still had enough sensitivity left to hold his tongue.

And so, the crying children only felt burdensome. Eldmir didn’t dislike children—but he didn’t particularly like them either. Their weeping was simply troublesome.

He felt like he should comfort them somehow, but his own nature rejected the very idea.

Neither here nor there.

“…Mother, maybe you should try calming them down.”

In the end, he turned to Eshiria for help.

He felt he relied too much on her for this kind of thing, but then again, knowing what one could and could not do was important—or so he convinced himself.

Eshiria nodded and approached the feline girls.

They clustered around Keris, who was clutching the urn with Teia’s ashes, and accepted Eshiria’s approach without suspicion.

She gently embraced them all.

“Teia fulfilled her duty as a warrior, keeping her faith and completing her mission. She is now joyous, finding her happiness at Kelga’s side. So do not weep. If you smile instead of grieving, Teia’s spirit can rest peacefully in Kelga’s embrace.”

Perhaps her words had an effect.

The feline girls began to stifle their sobs, straining their faces with determination.

Pleased, Eshiria stroked each of their heads and smiled warmly.

A mother’s smile.

“To my god, protector of the forest, parent and mother of all Elves, El Redarel, I make this offering: may glory and happiness bless your futures for enduring this far.”

Eldmir’s eyes widened.

That wasn’t just comfort—it was practically a vow. She was pledging her devotion to secure happiness for these girls’ futures.

‘Normally, that’s what it would mean… but she probably just means she’ll care for them until they return home.’

Eldmir accepted that interpretation, nodding to himself, and then spoke to the girls.

“Alright, kids. If you’ve calmed down, let’s get moving. We don’t know when something like that will happen again.”

“…Don’t call us kids.”

Keris snapped, her voice still tinged with tears.

Eldmir only shrugged.

“The village you’re looking for—is it to the north?”

“…No.”

“Hm?”

Eldmir frowned.

If they weren’t headed north, then where were they going?

“…Did you just lose your way? Or maybe you were running blindly, and north just happened to be the direction?”

His guess made sense, but Keris hung her head, ears drooping. Her grief deepened, beyond Teia’s death, and Eldmir tilted his head in confusion.

“Sis.”

One of the smaller feline girls tugged on Keris. She looked about twelve or thirteen years old.

“I think we should tell them. Teia told us to trust, and… they swore an oath. I think we can believe them.”

She tried to whisper, but to Elven ears, everything was clear.

Eldmir awkwardly looked away, pretending not to hear.

“I don’t worry about trust so much as… whether it’s wise to tell outsiders.”

“But we can’t do this without their help.”

“…You’re right.”

Keris wanted to argue, but her sister’s words left no room. She sighed and nodded.

Resolute, Keris turned to Eldmir.

“I don’t know if I can trust you… but I’ll try. We have no other choice.”

Eldmir gave a silent nod.

Keris glanced between him and Eshiria, then spoke.

“My name is Keris de Kella.”

Kella.

Eldmir’s eyes widened.

A name he recognized.

“And of course, all my sisters bear the Kella name as well.”

Ha.

Eldmir nearly lost his composure, barely suppressing a scoff.

He stayed silent, listening.

“You know that among beastmen, some bloodlines carry the gods’ blood more strongly, right? We call them ‘War Beasts.’”

Indeed. In the earliest age, when all races lived together in harmony, each race had special bloodlines tied to their gods. Beastmen called theirs “War Beasts.” Elves called theirs “High Elves.”

In the game, they were known as “Highborn.”

“For the beastmen, most War Beast bloodlines grew weak and vanished, leaving only one family. To prevent extinction, Kelban’s noble houses and royals devised a solution: inbreeding. By marrying War Beasts together, they produced more War Beasts.”

Barbaric as it was, it worked.

Normally, inbreeding caused defects. But with divine blood, the rules were different—or so the setting went.

The Kella family succeeded in multiplying War Beasts, becoming a new royal house of beastmen. They even spread their seed among other noble houses to produce highborns elsewhere, without hesitation at such savagery.

The family became famous in the game not just for producing highborns, but for becoming the strongest beastman lineage and royalty itself.

Depending on the route, they even drove the mid-to-late game story with overwhelming power.

And that family’s name was—

“We are their descendants. The Kella. A house composed only of War Beasts. We are part of that line.”

Kella.

One of the few who bore the name of their god, Kelga. Anything with “Kel” in its name was sacred among beastmen.

“…Didn’t think I’d meet Kel’s descendants this soon.”

Eldmir muttered to himself.

The Kella house usually rose to prominence in the mid-to-late game, after the First Racial War.

For them to appear now, in such a state, meant only one thing:

The infamous beastman-destruction route had been triggered.

―“Why the long face?”

It was Atir’s question.

Eldmir glared at the foxfire raccoon spirit with his usual sulky look.

Damn spirit.

Spirits were all his enemies. Especially Atir.

Rebel elf? Please. He wouldn’t have gone so far astray if they’d just formed contracts with him.

Sure, his personality was the root cause—but still.

“Damn it.”

―“What? What’s wrong?”

Atir wouldn’t stop pestering, so Eldmir decided to speak instead of stewing.

“Kella. The War Beast family.”

―“Those kids? What about them?”

“…If they’re really that strong, true War Beasts, why are they fleeing like this? From mere orcs, no less.”

The beastman-destruction route was infamous among players.

Not easy to see, but any veteran knew of it. It was unavoidable unless you played as beastmen yourself.

Its reputation came from one fact:

It triggered during the tutorial.

Tutorials were supposed to teach you while you had no power, no options. And yet, in that state, the Kella family faced extinction.

What a dilemma.

Normally, one might cheer at an enemy faction’s destruction—it made survival easier. But this was Omega World.

The beastmen’s destruction was nothing to celebrate.

Even from an elf’s perspective, their extinction would worsen the long-term outcome, making the final clear farther out of reach.

For Eldmir’s goals, it was a disaster.

Which, ironically, made his situation lucky.

The Kella had appeared before him while in peril. He had saved them.

Now, if he could restore them, he could avert the beastmen’s destruction.

So why was he so irritated?

―“You’re right, it is odd. If they are War Beasts, there should be divine power and potential within them. Yet I feel nothing. Less even than from that warrior Teia.”

Exactly. That was the crux of this damned story.

He glanced back. Eshiria walked behind him, chatting warmly with the four feline sisters.

He wanted to speed up, but there was no way the girls could keep up. They had no choice but to trudge along.

“Damn it… the game was supposed to get harder later. Why is it brutal from the start?”

―“It really is strange. If they were War Beasts, they shouldn’t be this weak. Are you sure they’re the real thing?”

“They are. But they lost their divine power. Without it, they’re no different from ordinary beastmen.”

―“What? How is that even possible—”

God’s blood meant inheriting divine power.

Without the power, the bloodline was meaningless.

And of course, losing divine power was unthinkable. Impossible.

But that impossibility had happened—and with it, the beastmen plunged into chaos and eventual ruin.

It sounded too simple when spoken, but that was the truth.

Divine blood and divine power were that vital to this world’s races.

If such a thing happened to any race, not just beastmen, it would spark catastrophe.

Fortunately, it only happened to beastmen.

A small mercy.

And yet, the real problem was—

“Ah, hell. I don’t know how to stop this route.”

He had no idea of the strategy.

Shit.