IRE 51

“Let’s go in.”

I followed Atrakal into the building where the elders were said to be. The structure looked as if someone had hollowed out a gigantic tree; by size alone, it was the largest tree-like building I’d ever seen. From the spirit energy I could sense, it seemed they had artificially enlarged it using the power of spirits for use as a building.

That said, the spirits summoned by the elders weren’t the ones who’d made this place.

From what I’d heard from Icras, they had lost their own spirits roughly two hundred years ago. That was why they could so easily be suspected as traitors.

As we entered, a strong scent hit my nose. It was a powerful wood scent, sharp enough to make my nose tingle.

“Welcome, Atrakal. It’s been two hundred years since we last met.”

A raspy voice came from deeper in. The cracked tone sounded like it had been made harsh by a long life.

The voice did not stop there.

“To see you still hale after so many years… truly, you must be blessed by the forest. I assumed that after such aging I’d never see you again.”

The voice spoke plainly, then continued.

“To have you come all this way—dragging that butt grown heavy with age—this is an honor, should I say? Or have you come to prove your purity by disposing of a traitor yourself?”

Age-weariness laced the tone. The words were dragged out as if being pulled along the ground, barely completed.

Three elders revealed themselves. All of them were distinctly elderly.

Atrakal answered their greeting curtly. “Still alive, I see. Somehow you haven’t died.”

“Tsk, tsk— is that what you say?”

Apart from the High Elves, there were few elves older than Atrakal.

“Enough with the pleasantries. We asked why you have come here. Bringing a traitor here suggests our sentinels conveyed our intent well enough. Now it is time for you to answer us.”

A businesslike, emotionless voice echoed. The wood-scented interior gave that voice a stiff, almost wooden quality.

Atrakal looked at him. His gaze was sharp, like an arrow aimed.

“Then I’ll be blunt.”

His voice reverberated through the small building. “Are you the ones who claim to be the continent’s cancer?”

Light inside the wooden building came only from the faint glow of spirit stones and sunlight through the windows. Dust motes floated in that light, drifting silently. The hush surrounding the building felt thin and empty, like the dimness of the dust.

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” one elder said, as if coloring the faint silence.

That remark seemed to start a rhythm: the elders spoke in turn, as if taking turns to make a point. One by one they spoke in a peculiar, staggered manner.

“What we asked of you was the elimination of a traitor… not idle slander or presumptuous meddling.”

“You remind me of two hundred years ago. Have you come only to repeat that visit? Yes. Then as now, we are powerless and cannot stop you. We have no way to escape your mockery; our fate lies in your hand.”

Annoyed, Atrakal waved his hand. “Two hundred years ago or now, my feeling toward you hasn’t changed. Your tongues never seem to rest from rattling nonsense. Stop the idle talk and answer my question, you senile specters.”

His presence began to radiate. The seasoned aura of a veteran filled the wooden room.

“Hmm…”

“Ugh…”

The three elders groaned, trying to endure that force. But the origin of that presence was no ordinary man. A sentinel who had spent his life guarding the forest and fighting other races—an old warrior’s presence is not something a normal person could withstand. The pressure was sticky and unpleasant, like arrows being hammered into the body, a chilling, targeted force. It felt as if tensions were being drawn tight in every direction toward him. His aura was the kind only someone who had crossed hell and deathlines for more than five hundred years could display—an awful intensity none could imitate. It made one wonder how many deathlines he had actually crossed.

“Indeed… a demon of the forest.”

“I don’t remember having such a nickname,” Atrakal said.

“Tsk tsk tsk—your enemies gave it to you. You’ve been off the front lines a long time, so you might not know.”

Slowly, clearly, they finished speaking. At that moment, a different voice—not one of the elders nor mine—cut in.

“Please stop there.”

“Icras.”

I had expected him to interject; in the end he couldn’t betray his loyalty. Atrakal’s force aimed at him like an arrow.

“Don’t interfere, kid. This isn’t a place for your interruption.”

Although Icras paled under the direct intensity, he stubbornly stayed standing.

“I — I will speak in your stead. Please allow me to speak to the elders on behalf of these people.”

“Atrakal—” before Atrakal could speak, one elder called his name. The voice elongated like a lament and carried a hint of sorrow.

“We ordered that no one but those two be admitted… so why did you break that order and step inside?”

“Elder, please listen to them. They—Eldmir is not a traitor. He is not a forest informer; if anything, the suspicious one is Chi Taen—”

“Icras!!”

A shout made the sentinel flinch and tremble. “…I did not think it would be so hard for you to follow an order not to step inside.”

“Elder.”

One elder, murmuring lamentingly, then squared his shoulders, seeming to make a decision.

“Have we asked whether you are traitors?”

He—no, they—went on.

“That question is the height of foolishness. I don’t know how your thoughts reached such an endpoint, but if we were traitors, why would we bother to provoke you and create this situation?”

“You are… the same as ever. Using your head isn’t the same as using your muscles. Do you really not understand why we sent sentinels?”

The tone was expressionless and mechanical, yet the exchange felt off.

“We are not traitors. Why can’t you see that betrayal lies close by? What blinds your eyes so that you cannot look at the world with your own sight?”

“We already said. We called you here to discover the truth. Atrakal, foolish friend… do you not realize who stands near you?”

Still now. “Near you.” He used the word “near,” though I stand directly behind Atrakal. Why use the word “near”? It felt extremely strange. The voice was emotionless, so the awkwardness was palpable; the expression was blank and felt like a mask. Each uneasy detail seemed like a desperate plea to be understood.

Perhaps sensing that, Atrakal and Icras’ expressions shifted.

“If you truly did not betray—”

I, half-expecting it, opened my mouth. Looking at them, one idea came to me — an idea I’d considered before but kept as a hypothesis, never fully concluding. Something I had inwardly suspected enough to hold as a conviction.

“I have one question.”

“Aldemir?”

Ignoring Atrakal’s skeptical voice, I took a step closer. “Why did you believe the traitor was me? Why did you have to believe that?”

Seven sentinels had accompanied the dragon’s head. They were like dolls—silent, following Irian’s orders only. Seeds of the demon race. “Why did you believe their words?” I asked.

I opened my perception wide and began to sense every presence. I scanned the inside and outside of the wooden building; not satisfied with that, I even opened tracking skills and combed every trace around us.

“Would the traitor’s own mouth betray who we are?” An elder’s gaze, almost mocking, was solemn. As if he wanted to examine my intent, I gave a slight nod. The three elders’ eyes simultaneously changed.

And my doubt hardened into certainty.

“Where are Chi Taen’s elves?”

“That is not something you say to a forest traitor,” one elder said, glancing at the left window.

There—following the traces picked up by my tracking skill, I found four presences detected by my perception. It was clear. They were remnants of Chi Taen.

“If I were truly a traitor, I’d be dead right now, wouldn’t I? Either my head would blow off, or your power would have forcibly—”

“Huh… hahaha, an interesting one.”

“But not a bad idea. It’s an appropriate method to punish a traitor.”

An appropriate method to execute a traitor. I nodded at those words.

Thinking back, everything had been suspicious from the start. They had always said: the traitor must be punished — but they never specified anyone in particular. Even with me standing right before them as the one they pointed to, they only ever asked for an “answer”; they never asked anything else — nothing about our thoughts, our intentions, anything.

If they were calling us to demand punishment of a traitor, why didn’t they simply order my death?

“Since when—since when did this start…?”

At my careless question, the elders’ expressions changed.

“Atrakal… we first called you about two hundred years ago.”

Hearing my name called so suddenly, Atrakal frowned. I, however, could not react easily. It felt like lightning struck; my body trembled and I fell silent.

Two hundred years. Two hundred years that they had— I couldn’t bring myself to finish the thought. Then, as if the remnants of Chi Taen had sensed something, I felt their presences begin to stir slightly.

I exhaled.

“I will preserve your honor. Do you have any last words?”

At that, the three elders laughed hollowly. Time-worn, weary of life and their own misfortune, faint smiles flickered across their faces as though a dim lamp had been lit.

“An old man wouldn’t be leaving anything sentimental behind, would he? I have said what I must.”

“Hey, old man, at least say ‘thank you’ before you go—to that young man, to Icras… and annoyingly, to Atrakal too.”

“Child, I don’t know how you pieced together our situation….”

Then, suddenly, the three heads grotesquely began to swell.

“Elders?!”

Icras cried out in horror and Atrakal was startled. But the elders could not answer. They groaned in pain and writhed; they were no longer capable of coherent speech.

“Don’t look.”

“What—what on earth is—what is happening?!”

“Do you know what this phenomenon is?”

“As you see… it’s not a pretty sight. And you can’t stop it.”

I had already turned and was moving away. Though I warned him, Icras couldn’t look away from the strange phenomenon. On the contrary, he rushed at them in panic, grabbing their bodies as if he didn’t know what to do.

Foolish, really. A man stubbornly simple and consistent.

“Elder…! Come to your senses! What should I do… What must I do, elder…!”

Then a horrific sound rang out. It mixed blood and brain matter—skull fragments and other pieces flew and stained the place around. If I had not pre-summoned a spirit flame to shield the spray, the scene would have been grotesque. Icras no doubt took the worst of it.

A head exploding is a harsh punishment reserved for when those sown with the seed are judged to have betrayed. So they had been forced to live as puppets of the demon race for two hundred years. Two hundred years.

“That… this is….”

Icras looked like a specter who couldn’t complete his words. His image stuck in my mind, but there was no time. I ground my teeth and once again steeled myself, renewing the oath I had made many times before: those bastards would never close their eyes easily.