IRE 44

chapter 44

“I met a pair of sisters.”

Standing behind Keris, I placed a hand on her shoulder.

“They lost all their kin to the hands of another race, and were forced to walk a harsh road with only one guardian left. And on that road… they met yet another race.”

Because of that encounter, the girls lost their final guardian—their only remaining warrior.

Kelban, the heart of the beastmen, was destroyed by other races. And now, even the last warrior who protected those girls was taken from them by a different race’s hand.

Who could possibly comprehend the sorrow of such poor girls, left all alone in an instant?

“Keris, Ersi, Esrin, and Ketrit. Those are their names.”

Their homeland and kin were destroyed by orcs, and the last guardian they had left was taken by elves.

And yet, despite that, they decided to form a blood pact with the very enemies who had slain their protector, and with the living witnesses of their people’s bloody history.

Perhaps that vow came from youthful naivety—from someone too young to be part of that history herself.

But still…

“Just as we have the right to tell our story, shouldn’t they also have the right to tell theirs?”

Emotions are not a one-sided torrent flowing in only one direction. If one side pours out its feelings, the other surely must as well.

If there exists emotion that devours reason, then surely the only thing that can restrain it is another’s emotion.

“As El said, we are the royal family of the beastmen—and El’s friends.”

Keris’s trembling voice broke the silence.

She bowed politely in the formal manner of her people.

“Let me reintroduce myself. My name is Keris Kella, of the beastmen’s royal line. Though now I am nothing more than a fugitive, I still hold the pride of my lineage, and I act as one who remembers what it means to be of royal blood.
…So, though unworthy, I greet you as the king of the beastmen.”

“…King? You?”

“I haven’t made an official proclamation yet,” she admitted.

As the last of her royal bloodline and the eldest, it was only natural she would one day inherit the throne.
Yet Keris still seemed uncomfortable calling herself a king. Maybe it was simply nervousness.

“I agree with El—no, with Eldmir’s words. Because my people are already walking the path of destruction at the hands of the orcs, I can say this with conviction.”

Keris raised her fist over her chest.
Her small hand trembled slightly.

“I am not saying we should forget the grudges of the past.”

Her voice was firm.

“The debts of blood from our history must be settled properly. I will make the orcs who destroyed Kelban pay the price they owe. Of course, to do that, I must first regain my strength. And as for you all…”

She paused, then continued with effort.

“You too have that right. I may be the last surviving royal and perhaps the last beastman alive. If you kill me, you would be fulfilling one of your long-held wishes.”

“……”

Atrakhal swallowed hard, at a loss for words. Isritrin let out a quiet sigh.

“Did you hear that, Atrakhal? Do you hear what that poor child just said before us?”

“……”

After a long silence, Atrakhal finally spoke.

“It has never been our destiny to slay children. Never once, and never will it be. I swear it in the name of El L’Darel.”

Hearing those words, Keris’s expression twisted—somewhere between wanting to cry and wanting to smile.
Isritrin looked at her with pity.

“As I said, we don’t need to forget our past. If a debt is owed, it must be repaid. And I will, without fail… repay the debt we owe the elves.”

Keris spoke as though she personally bore the guilt for every sin of her race—a history she herself had not even lived through, only inherited.

She did not say those words out of pity or to calm their anger.
She truly believed them.

Looking down at her clenched fist, Keris continued softly:

“And they… must feel the same.”

“……”

“When I regain my strength, I will gather my scattered kin from across the continent and rebuild Kelban. The beastmen will reclaim their pride and their strength—and I will change everything.”

“What do you mean to say?” Atrakhal asked.

“I mean I will change my people.”

Though Kelban was destroyed by orcs, the root cause lay within the beastmen themselves.

Their society, built on survival of the fittest, turned on its leaders the moment they showed weakness—baring their fangs without hesitation.

That was the instinct of the beastmen—and the reason they had to perish.

“I will change that foolish race of ours, enslaved by primal instinct and violence. No longer a people who see every beginning and end through battle alone—but one that knows harmony, unity, and wisdom.
This alliance with the elves will be the first step toward that. And beyond that…”

If their fighting instinct was folly, would changing it be an improvement, or a corruption?

Keris already had her answer.

“Well… if we can change, and if the elves can change—then perhaps the whole continent can change too.”

“What a foolish dream,” Atrakhal said coldly.

Keris hurriedly shook her head. “I don’t mean to say we’ll literally change the continent. I just want to show that it’s possible. We can change. Even without forgetting our grudges, we can still move forward together.”

She was so nervous she didn’t even notice her own voice trembling, barely aware of the words leaving her lips.

But she didn’t falter.

“Just as elves are our enemies, we are theirs. And now the orcs have become our greatest foes.
But even so… we will change.”

Atrakhal had once said change was impossible.
That the chasm between them was far too deep to ever cross.
And yet now, the other side had declared their intent to change first.

“If the elves and beastmen can form an alliance—if that becomes reality—then won’t that be proof that anything is possible?
Even with the orcs, though an alliance may be far off, I believe we can find a way to end that hatred… in a better way.
But before that…”

Keris looked to each of the three elders in turn, then bowed deeply.

“I’m sorry—for every sin my kin have committed.”

“……”

Atrakhal looked at her with conflicted eyes.

“…You have an overly optimistic way of thinking,” he said at last.

Keris raised her head but didn’t reply. She simply met his gaze, calm and steady now.

“Even if we could change, the orcs never will. I don’t know who planted these ideas in your head, but it’s not too late to turn back. Leave this forest, child.”

He no longer spoke to her with anger.
Nor did he call her “beast” anymore.

“Do you think they choose destruction for no reason? Those creatures worship a god of war—each of them both priest and fanatic. Leave before it’s too late.
Dreams are for the young—but it’s the duty of old men like me to wake them from those dreams.”

Wake up. Escape your foolish illusions.

That was Atrakhal’s warning to Keris.

But at least to me… it didn’t sound so foolish.

“Elder, do you know what the orcs’ divine mission, their ‘sacred duty,’ truly is?”

Atrakhal frowned. “What nonsense are you spouting now?”

“Their god is Ka-Hwaran, god of war and battle. He promises his followers endless conflict, eternal violence, and everlasting war.
They are a race that worships such a being.”

“I’ve no intention of entertaining your nonsense further,” Atrakhal snapped. “If that child doesn’t leave the forest right now, Eldmir, I’ll—”

“Isn’t it strange,” I interrupted, “that the followers of a god who seeks eternal war are so obsessed with ending war?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Isn’t it odd? Orcs speak endlessly of eternal battle—yet what they truly pursue is eternal victory. What would they gain from exterminating all other races? Ka-Hwaran’s purpose in war is the war itself—endless conflict, not triumph.
To him, victory and honor are merely side rewards.”

I could say that with certainty.
I had once played as one of them.
I knew that Ka-Hwaran desired only war itself.

Nothing else mattered—not victory, not defeat—only the act of fighting.

“That being so,” I continued, “why would his followers seek to end war through annihilation? Their god is a battle-mad spirit who loves his enemies.”

A twisted interpretation of faith.
A corrupted doctrine.

“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” I added quietly.

Atrakhal’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean—”

“Yes.” I nodded. “They are in the same situation as we elves.”

Just as the forest’s spirit had been tainted, their god’s teachings had been distorted.
Just as the demons had reached out to corrupt us, they had reached out to the orcs as well.

Atrakhal looked stunned. “That’s absurd… How could you possibly know the doctrines of Ka-Hwaran so well? Even the orcs themselves don’t understand them!”

Because in my previous life, I had been one of them—one of their highest.

…But of course, I couldn’t say that.

I considered mentioning the “memory of nature,” but that would only complicate things. So instead, I went with something more believable.

“As I’ve said, I’ve met them before. And the ones I met were of high blood.”

“They told you this themselves?”

“It wasn’t exactly a friendly chat,” I admitted. “But even during battle, they wouldn’t stop preaching about Ka-Hwaran’s blessings and their doctrine—though their actions contradicted those words completely.”

That much was true.
They had liked me enough to share their delusions of divine blessing.

The only difference was that their “eternal war” had become “eternal victory.”
They were already a corrupted offshoot.

“I confirmed this theory later in Chi Taen as well,” I added. “The ones we captured there spoke of the same thing.”

And then I brought up the hidden hand behind all of this—the third force manipulating events from the shadows.

“…Ridiculous,” Atrakhal muttered, looking weary. “So you’re saying some unknown power is deceiving and controlling the entire continent? You don’t even consider that their words might just be lies?”

I shook my head. “There are too many coincidences for it to be false.”

“It could just be that your guesses happened to line up by chance.”

Before I could reply, Ashira spoke up sharply.

“If you keep brushing everything off like that, how do you expect to have any real conversation?”

“Ashira…”

“Old fool, think for a moment. You really believe all this is just coincidence piled on coincidence? One time, maybe. Twice, perhaps. But this? No, this is far too deliberate.”

Ashira sighed, exasperated.

“What we need to decide isn’t whether his story is true—it’s whether you’ll accept those children or not. What’s it going to be?”

He smirked.

“If you keep clinging to your grudges and saying the beastmen can’t be friends of the forest, you’re just going to look pathetic, old man.”

“Would you please shut up,” Atrakhal grumbled.

Keris still didn’t know how to resolve her people’s grudges—toward the orcs, toward the elves, or both.
Perhaps it was her fate to find that answer herself.

All I could hope for was that my strength might help her when that time came.

“Elder, we’re not asking for comparison,” I said quietly.
“We just want you to understand their story too.”

That was all I had wanted from the beginning.

Atrakhal looked at me for a long while.

“…I understand what it is you’re trying to do,” he said at last.

When his gaze locked onto mine, it felt as though the memory of countless battlefields unfurled before my eyes—flames, ashes, blood-soaked earth, and the screams of the dead echoing through the ruins.
All the horrors of war gathered into one image.

I unconsciously held my breath.

“……”

Then it vanished, leaving only his eyes.

“Gather all the elves of the village,” Atrakhal said finally.

Ashira raised a brow. “Now?”

“Immediately.”

“Fine.”

Atrakhal nodded, and Ashira rose to his feet.
But before leaving, he turned to me with a mischievous grin.

“Hey, one last question.”

“…What is it?”

“If people without spirits are all potential collaborators, shouldn’t we start by suspecting that old man first?”

I blinked. “Uh… well, technically, yes.”

“Then we’d better start with him,” he said, pointing straight at Atrakhal.

Everyone’s jaw dropped.

Sure, Atrakhal had said himself that his spirit had long since died—but bringing it up now was just cruel.

Ashira shrugged. “What? He’s got no spirit. He said so himself.”

“…Old man, you don’t have a spirit either,” the elderly woman beside him remarked dryly.

“Oh, right!” Ashira slapped his forehead with a laugh. “Forgot about that! Guess that means I’m suspicious too!”

Chuckling, he strolled away toward the forest path.
Atrakhal ground his teeth audibly behind him.

“That senile bastard… I swear I’ll—”

“Hey, sorry about that,” Ashira called back. “But I told you not to act like a senile old fool all the time. Karma’s a funny thing, huh?”

Hmm.

Watching two elders calling each other senile old men and tossing insults back and forth was… quite the sight.
I didn’t even have words for it.

…I just know I don’t want to end up like that when I’m old.