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Chapter 12
Eldmir and his companions spent the previous night’s dinner listening to the catfolk girls speak about their future plans, and they held various discussions.
Through that talk, the general direction of things was settled, and both Eldmir and Essiria swore once again that they would do their utmost to help fulfill the girls’ goals.
For the catfolk girls—who had already lost their guardians and had no one else to rely on—it was something to be truly grateful for, and they once more shed tears.
Thus, a day passed, and morning arrived.
“Damn it.”
Eldmir muttered a curse once again, though he had already spat the same words countless times.
— Enough with the cursing already. Really classy, doing that in front of kids.
Depending on the situation, words of reason can feel all the more infuriating.
That was exactly the case with Atir now.
“To my god, the guardian of the forest, the mother and progenitor of all elves, El Rudarel, I swear, Atir—if you irritate me one more time…”
— Alright, alright. You’re saying that arrow of yours will end up in my snout, right? You’ve said it so many times it’s losing impact.
Eldmir felt his insides boiling.
But Atir was right. There were four children before him, and spitting curses and snapping in front of them was anything but mature.
He hadn’t yet undergone the coming-of-age ritual, but with a mental age close to fifty, he was more than old enough to recognize that such behavior was beneath him.
“Damn it!”
— Ugh, seriously.
Atir’s voice dripped with irritation.
— Grow up, Eldmir. Who wanted this situation to happen? Nobody asked for it, nobody expected it. It’s unavoidable. So calm yourself.
Atir’s words were half true and half false.
Eldmir wasn’t angry just about the present situation.
He was angry because, of all people, he should have foreseen this first—and prepared first.
And yet, he had completely erased that fact from his mind.
That orcs might invade the forest—he had unconsciously dismissed the idea, brushed it off, and even forgotten it.
And so he had let things slide until it came to this disaster. That was why he was furious at himself.
“S-sorry… because of us, the forest is…”
Perhaps Eldmir’s grim expression looked like he was blaming them, because Ketrit stammered tearfully, apologizing.
Startled, Eldmir hurriedly changed his expression.
“No, no! I’m not angry at you. I’m not blaming you at all. Why apologize? This isn’t your fault. It’s fine, really.”
“But if not for us…”
“I told you, this isn’t because of you. Don’t worry. I’m angry at myself—for failing to consider that the orcs might come into the forest even though I should’ve known better.”
The orcs.
Just as Eldmir had first predicted, they formed small squads and infiltrated the forest—whether because they couldn’t suppress their reckless bloodlust, or simply to slaughter the catfolk girls.
They did make some attempt to conceal themselves, knowing it was the elves’ forest. But in the end, orcs were orcs.
Their stench and violent aura couldn’t be hidden, and before long the spirits discovered them and spread the word everywhere.
Naturally, Essiria had also heard this news from the spirits. For now, she had left the party to carry out her Sentinel duty.
Atir, however, had stayed behind—partly as guard for the catfolk girls, partly to watch over Eldmir.
Eldmir wasn’t worried about Essiria’s safety, but he couldn’t stop thinking: If only I had handled things a little better, maybe none of this would’ve happened.
If only he had asked his mother to use the spirits to scout, or warned the villagers to prepare for orc infiltration, or at the very least left a warning with the three other Sentinels, including Istain.
Such thoughts kept circling in his head, tormenting him.
— So how long are you planning to wallow in self-pity?
“…Tch.”
Atir was right.
Now wasn’t the time to dwell on his own inadequacy.
Even though the Sentinels had gone out to wipe out the orcs, no one knew when they might encounter them.
Shaking off the self-loathing, he kept moving forward, wary of his surroundings.
“Atir, can you find out how the other Sentinels are doing through the other spirits?”
— We can’t just connect over any distance at will, you know.
Eldmir clicked his tongue at Atir’s curt reply.
“Then what about contract-bearers? Can’t you connect with my mother?”
— Hmm… give me a moment.
Thank goodness, Eldmir thought, then turned to the four sisters who still looked deeply uneasy, and forced a clumsy smile.
“It’s alright. Don’t worry too much. The spirits said there were at most ten orcs, and our village alone has more than thirty Sentinels.”
Besides, the Sentinels from other villages would surely come to help too.
As he tried to calm the sisters’ fears and give them a little peace of mind—
— …Rebel, I think something bad’s happened.
“What? Don’t just say that, what’s wrong?”
Atir brought him shocking news.
— It looks like the orcs have launched a full-scale invasion.
* * *
Essiria was an outstanding Sentinel and a seasoned hunter.
Unlike her son Eldmir, she didn’t possess an out-of-the-norm skill or mysterious power, but at least within the forest, there were few who could dodge or block her arrows.
Just past her first century, still a young elf, she was already counted among the village’s top Sentinels—an exceptional talent with great promise.
Even so, the situation before her could only be described as overwhelming.
“Graaaagh!”
“Crush them all! Slaughter the pointy-ears! For Ka Hwaran!!”
The sheer weight of their roaring voices was staggering.
Like incarnations of war itself, the orcs ignored arrows piercing their bodies, and when comrades fell, they trampled over corpses and pressed on.
“Comrades! A festival of blood! Slay every elf and offer them as sacrifice to Ka Hwaran!!”
“A battle of blood!!”
Even just facing their wild cries sent shivers across her whole body.
Essiria suppressed her unease and spread the forest’s vitality evenly throughout her being.
This was the elves’ forest.
Their domain. Not a place for savage intruders like these to trample unchecked.
Already, countless times in the past, their forest had been invaded. And every time, the elves had prevailed.
This time would be no different.
“Essiria!”
At her comrade’s warning cry, she ducked her head just in time.
A throwing axe whizzed past and lodged into the tree behind her.
Patting her chest in relief, she nocked another arrow to her bowstring.
“Brothers of the forest! Let us show these arrogant invaders the wrath of the Sentinels!”
At the sudden orc incursion, the elves burned with rare fury.
Their indignant voices echoed eerily through the forest.
“Under El Rudarel’s blessing, Sentinels—defend the forest!”
“To protect the forest!”
“To honor the oath!”
They did not match the orcs’ overwhelming volume.
Instead, in calm but resolute tones that carried through the woods, they made their vow heard.
Their arrows flew in arcs, striking deep into orc flesh.
True to the name of Sentinels, not a single arrow fell to the ground or missed.
Some were blocked by shields or swatted aside, but none could evade them.
“Guoooh!”
Even so, the orcs’ ferocity did not wane.
The more blood they shed, the more comrades they lost, the greater their frenzy grew.
They were like avatars of rage, hurling themselves into battle.
“Scatter!”
Though the orcs managed to break through the arrow barrage and close in, the elves were not so easily caught.
Weaving between trees, using the forest terrain, the Sentinels unleashed their fighting style upon the orcs.
Even after reaching them, the orcs could do nothing—only to be riddled with arrows. Roaring in frustration, they bellowed:
“Chop down the trees!”
A crude tactic—but one that was dangerous against Sentinels.
Yet it also enraged the elves.
“How dare you!”
The spirits, sharing in the elves’ fury at the destruction of the forest, lashed out in wrath.
Flames, wind, and earth itself tore into the orcs.
“Gwooooh!”
The orcs, nearly three hundred strong, rapidly dwindled.
From the start, an assault with only three hundred orcs had been doomed in the elves’ forest.
That was why orcs normally avoided entering—and such wasteful battles of attrition had never been recorded in history.
“What in the world were those filthy creatures thinking, invading our forest?”
It was only natural to wonder.
Now the Sentinels didn’t even bother with concealment or terrain.
With so few orcs left, there was no need.
“Answer, children of Ka Hwaran—cursed spawn of the god of war. Why have you trespassed into our domain?”
One Sentinel stepped forward and demanded.
The surviving orcs only laughed.
“Ha ha ha! You should thank us, you pathetic bowmen!”
At their incomprehensible words, the elves frowned.
“What nonsense is this? You expect us to be grateful when you’ve invaded our forest?”
“Of course. Khurum.”
Even as blood gushed from them and death loomed near, the orcs laughed on.
They cared nothing for their own wounds, nothing for the corpses of their comrades, nothing for their own impending deaths. They laughed, as if overjoyed.
“Cursed children of Ka Hwaran… to see you revel even after what you’ve done is pitiful. What has made you so glad?”
“The cursed ones are not us, but you pitiful forest-dwellers!”
One orc cackled and shouted:
“Our children of war have finally fulfilled a destiny! Lowly slaves of the forest—praise us, praise Ka Hwaran!”
With those final words, an arrow pierced his brow.
It was Essiria who loosed it.
“Disgusting rabble.”
One Sentinel muttered.
“What do you think he meant by fulfilling a destiny?”
“Who knows… but whatever it was, it doesn’t sound good, not coming from a so-called child of war.”
Leaving her fellow Sentinels behind as they speculated, Essiria ran.
Desperately, without pause.
“Eldmir.”
Her heart heavy with dread.
