IRE 13

Chapter 13

“A large force? You said at first it was just a small squad.”

—I don’t know. Maybe that squad was just bait, but for some reason, their numbers look to be around three hundred.

“Three hundred?!”

Eldmir was horrified.

“Then what are we doing just standing here? We have to send reinforcements right now!”

—Calm yourself. This is why you’re still a novice.

Atir clicked his tongue and flashed a spark of fire before Eldmir’s eyes.

As Eldmir flinched in surprise, Atir came closer and said:

—Do you think the guardians of the forest are called that for nothing? If the forest could fall to a mere three hundred, then it would’ve long ago been destroyed by other races or monsters. Their numbers are a threat, yes, but hardly to us. Not here, in this forest.

“……”

Atir was right.

This wasn’t just any place—it was the Forest of the World Tree.

Here, where Elrdarel’s blessing shone closest and the grace of the World Tree itself was bestowed, making enemies of the elves was no different from suicide.

Eldmir had experienced that firsthand in his previous life.

Besides, three hundred was not a small number, but it was far from overwhelming. Against the elves of the forest, it was not nearly enough to pose a true danger.

Regaining his composure, Eldmir thought for a moment before a sudden question struck him.

“Then what about those small squads you mentioned at the start? What were they? Did you wipe them out?”

—…No. They weren’t among the three hundred. They seem… to be a detached unit, moving completely on their own.

“…Damn it, then that means they’re still prowling somewhere in this forest.”

At those words, Eldmir felt a wave of unease.

Their true target was clear—the four beastkin sisters who had fled. But would they really risk a full-scale war with the elves just to catch four fugitives?

Eldmir’s thoughts raced.

He had played as orcs before. Which meant he could understand their strategy from their perspective.

Think. Why would the orcs make such a suicidal charge? Why send a detached unit, using three hundred as bait?

Why…?

Beastkin. Royal blood. The last royalty.

The Beastkin Destruction Route.

“…They knew.”

—What? What do you mean?

“They knew.”

Eldmir gritted his teeth and drew his bow.

His instincts were sounding the alarm.

Something was approaching—death itself, creeping closer.

“They knew those girls were the last of the royal line. The last descendants of fallen Kelban, the heirs of Kelga.”

The last heirs of the War Beasts.

The true roots of the beastkin. The orcs knew.

“They truly mean to wipe the beastkin out.”

But something doesn’t add up. The orcs’ mission shouldn’t have been the extinction of the beastkin. So why now…?

No. This must simply be one of the countless stories unfolding in the world of Omega World.

No amount of thinking would give him a clear answer now.

What was certain was this: the orcs were determined to eradicate the last roots of the beastkin, by any means necessary.

“Atir, protect those girls.”

—…Tch. You sense it too?

Eldmir nodded grimly.

“You four—don’t leave Atir’s side. Stay put. Understood?”

“W-where are you going…?”

“It’s nothing. Just wait quietly.”

With that, Eldmir left the trembling sisters behind after firmly warning them.

Watching his back as he headed for the battlefield, Atir muttered under his breath:

—Damn rebel… you’d better come back alive.

He could feel it.

Their presence.

The presence he had only ever sensed in the game now loomed, raw and alive.

Once comrades, once enemies, sometimes allies, sometimes nemeses.

Some had united the continent alongside him. Others had perished by his hand. Still others had existed without ever crossing paths.

“Should I say… it’s good to see you again?”

He grinned, baring his teeth.

A false bravado to hide his nerves—but even so, he had to admit, it was a well-made smile.

Fitting enough, he thought, to face these battle-mad monsters without looking out of place.

“Khrrm.”

They exhaled heavily through faces twisted like beasts, their skin like stone.

Monsters.

Monsters, in every sense of the word.

“To send high-blood warriors moving in squads, just to hunt… you’re making quite the mess of this forest.”

Just as elves had High Elves, beastkin had War Beasts, and orcs had the War Hammers.

Each one of them was practically the incarnation of battle itself.

And here were eight of them.

A terrifying force assembled solely to exterminate four beastkin girls.

Sure, once a player gets strong enough, even high-bloods are nothing but fodder. But right now? This is still the damn tutorial!

What a broken, unfair game!

Why did I even play this crap?!

“Elves. Pointy-ears. Bow-user. Hrrm. Just one of you.”

“……”

“Step aside if you don’t want to die. Refuse, and you will.”

Short, clipped words—the same speech pattern they used in the game.

They were so arrogant, they found even speaking to those they didn’t recognize as worthy a tiresome chore.

Of course, off the battlefield, they could be surprisingly hearty companions—but here, on the battlefield, it was different.

Eldmir shook his head, still smiling at the War Hammers’ so-called “mercy.”

“Sorry. Can’t do that. I won’t.”

He tightened his grip on his bow.

An arrow slid into place on the string.

Even then, the War Hammers watched him with cold, impassive eyes.

Arrogant bastards.

“I swore an oath to this forest. I may hate that oath and the spirit behind it, but I’m still an elf.”

Call it indoctrination if you wanted.

He had long grown sick of elven traditions, of their stiff, suffocating ways—but everyone had roots.

And more than that, he wasn’t the kind to swear oaths he didn’t intend to keep.

“If you’re a man, you keep the promises you make. Don’t you agree?”

At those words, one of the War Hammers grinned.

Exhaling through his nostrils, the orcs slowly hefted their massive weapons.

“For a pointy-ear, you speak well.”

Well, thanks for that.

Smirking to himself, Eldmir raised his bow toward them.

Cold sweat trickled down his back.

Eight War Hammers.

Victory? Let’s be honest—it wasn’t even on the table.

The goal wasn’t to win. It was to hold out.

Damn spirits, just this once, spread the word quickly. Spread it wide through the forest. Our enemies are here.

“What’s your name, bow-user?”

“…Eldmir Architea of Lruel.”

“A difficult name.”

One War Hammer grinned.

He swung the massive hammer slung over his shoulder and slammed it into the ground.

BOOOOM!

The earth caved in.

The forest roared in pain.

Birds scattered into the sky, leaves cascaded to the ground.

The quake was like an earthquake, forcing Eldmir to brace his stance.

That kind of power… from just striking the ground once.

“Make us remember your name.”

In other words—

“It’s battle.”

“One pointy-ear’s blood won’t fill our bellies…”

“…But it should be enough for some amusement.”

So, they were asking for a fun fight.

Damn battle-crazed monsters.

Eldmir grinned back.

Because that was the only smile fit to face such bloodthirsty lunatics.

“Come on, then. I’ll give you a dance you won’t forget.”

“A huge noise just now!”

After a thunderous boom and a quake-like tremor shook the ground, Esrin cried out.

Atir also felt the shock and frowned.

“That reverberation… that power behind such a sound… no mistake. War Hammers.”

Keris muttered, her face pale.

—So it really is War Hammers.

Atir drifted in the air like a swimmer, deep in thought.

War Hammers.

The orcs’ high-blood lineage.

Their strength rivaled other high-blood races, but their destructive power was uniquely overwhelming.

Just as High Elves were unmatched in archery and spirit arts, War Hammers were unrivaled in sheer destruction.

And there were several of them.

And Eldmir was fighting them—right now.

What do I do? I should rush to help him… but…

He glanced at the beastkin sisters.

But Eldmir’s request weighed on his mind.

Spirits generally didn’t obey anyone but their contractors.

The only reason he was protecting Eldmir was because Esyria had asked him. The only reason he was guarding the sisters was likewise at her request.

Still, he couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him. It was Eldmir’s safety that unsettled him.

Me? Worried? About that rebellious brat?

He snorted at himself, but the uncomfortable feeling lodged in his chest didn’t go away.

Finally, sighing, he descended from the air and landed before the sisters.

—Let’s hurry. We don’t know when they might follow.

“Lord Eldmir…”

Esrin began to ask about his safety, but trailed off, unable to finish.

Atir pressed on silently, clearly unwilling to entertain doubts.

Ignoring the thunderous sounds echoing behind them as the forest trembled, Atir and the sisters continued forward.

“…But if we keep moving like this, won’t we end up separating from the others?”

Esrin asked cautiously.

—Do you really think an elf can get lost in a forest?

“No, but… it’s not like we set a meeting place, either…”

—Don’t worry. A spirit and its contractor can sense each other.

A bond.

Contractors and spirits could sense each other’s location and life force in real time. By focusing, they could even exchange intent.

They couldn’t carry out detailed conversations this way, but feelings and broad thoughts could be shared.

“But Eldmir isn’t your contractor, is he?”

The four sisters knew a bit about Eldmir.

From Esyria’s endless bragging about her son, from Atir’s complaints, and from Eldmir himself.

Though they had only spent a single night with him, somehow Eldmir had been at the center of every conversation, so they had learned enough.

Naturally, they knew he was the only elf who couldn’t contract with spirits—and that he was something of a rebel among elves.

—No need to worry about him. Did I tell you? He was the one who tracked your trail. Much as I hate to admit it, he’s an excellent hunter. A future great one.

“He is? Lord Eldmir…”

They had already seen how skilled he was for his age, but they hadn’t known he was that good at tracking too.

Even in this tense situation, hearing more about Eldmir made Esrin’s eyes gleam with interest.

“Esrin, this is not the time for chatter.”

Her older sister, Ersi, scolded her in a low voice.

Esrin drooped her head and apologized in a small, dejected voice.

“Sorry, sister.”

“…We’ll talk more once things calm down.”

Softening at her sister’s downcast look, Ersi added quietly.

At that, Esrin brightened immediately with a smile, leaving Ersi to shake her head in helpless affection.

—Anyway, can you really regain divine power this way?

“We can’t be sure. But… we have to try everything, even the smallest chance.”

—Heh. But tell me, why did you even lose the gods’ power in the first place? I heard you carried on your bloodline even through inbreeding to preserve it. So how did the War Beasts suddenly lose their line?

“That is…”

The sisters’ expressions all darkened.

They exchanged uneasy glances until, finally, the eldest, Keris, spoke.

“It’s simple. We committed a taboo. Something that never should have been done. And in the end, it drew Kelga’s wrath, and we lost our power.”

—A taboo? Even beastkin have those?