Chapter 141
Chapter 141
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 141
Chapter Title: Chapter 9 Star Fall (26)
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Thwung—Kwachak!
Thwung—Kwazazak!
...Crunch!
The elf Idrasil gnashed the tree root in her mouth with all her might. Her mother had always scolded her that such displays of emotion were vulgar, but she had no choice—if she didn’t do this, it would show on her face.
Carnean—what humans called the village of exiled elves—was a place far removed from peace. It was the second homeland formed by elves who had committed crimes in their ancestral Elf Forest or been driven out due to unavoidable circumstances.
Those who had been captured by human slave hunters, endured all sorts of humiliations before escaping, or even managed to infiltrate their ranks by luck but grew disillusioned with their wicked nature—they had gathered here. Their gentle, leisurely spirits had been trampled, leaving them without inner peace, and the ferocious monsters of the Blue Line Mountains had stripped away their physical comfort.
Thus, the elves of Carnean were accustomed to the most uneasy state for their kind: "non-peace." They were skilled at how to respond to it.
Thwung—Kwazazak!
“We want! To talk!”
Thwung—Kwazazak!
“Until dialogue happens! We’ll uproot every tree around here!”
But Idrasil could confidently say that in the past thirty years since she had earned the rank of Narim and served as the village guardian, she had never encountered this kind of "non-peace."
Thwung—Kwazazak!
“You heartless pricks! Can’t you hear the dying cries of the trees? That tree over there, looking at least a hundred years old, just met its end—another one! Hurry and drop the barrier, welcome us as guests, or history will record today as the day of the Blue Line Forest Massacre!”
“...Are they seriously calling that a threat?”
“It seems... that way.”
For some reason, the human seemed gravely mistaken. He was peeling the bark like torturing the tree or slowly twisting and ripping it to make the snapping sounds loud before hurling it toward the village barrier. Of course, their kind did love trees. Idrasil herself cherished ten bonsai trees at home and tended a small vegetable patch. But that was just a hobby. Did this human really think that method would work?
“Narim Idrasil. What do you plan to do about that human?”
“Is there any chance the spirit barrier could be damaged by that human’s attacks?”
“None at all. It’s certainly considerable physical force, but natural materials unaffected by aura or mana can’t impact the village’s spirit barrier. However...”
“However?”
“If he keeps uprooting and throwing every tree near the barrier like that, there’s a chance he’ll touch the trees serving as auxiliary anchors for the...”
Crunch!
Nera Rosio stopped mid-sentence at the chilling sound from Idrasil’s mouth and quietly shut her lips. As a member of the "Nera" class managing the village interior, she couldn’t handle the rage of Idrasil, a "Narim" class fighter who roamed these rugged mountains battling beasts.
Idrasil was mobilizing all her knowledge to uncover the identity of this human who spouted "peace" while covered in arrows and acting like that.
At first, she naturally assumed it was a beastkin. After all, he had come rushing toward the village with one of the most terrifying beings nearby: the cursed undead cat. Hoping peace would settle upon the pitiful soul toyed with by the beast, she shot his heart. Undead were most reliably felled by headshots, but the Grand Matron had taught that headless wretches wandered the world even in death, unable to hear or see, and that elves—symbols of peace—did not harm living heads.
But things took a bizarre turn. At the undead cat’s appearance, the Grand Matron empowered the World Tree’s branch, and as always, the beast repelled by the world’s purest "peace" turned back to its territory. Yet the human shot in the heart approached the village, blood pouring from his mouth!
Idrasil felt a grave threat from this creature that laughed while advancing despite being attacked first, arms raised high. Though born in the village sixty years ago and knowing humans only from elders’ tales and writings, she recognized the posture from her forest training.
‘Threatened animals puff up! I’ve seen a bear beast express attack intent like that. It’s unaffected by the World Tree, so not a magical beast, but since it threatens the village, it must be eliminated!’
Then, joined by other Nerans, they attacked. They pierced heart, liver, vital muscles, and tendons, but the human still raised his arms in threat. Finally, one Nera whose peace shattered defied tradition and shot the head, ending the commotion—or so they thought.
But the head-pierced human sprang up again, blood and brains dripping from his forehead, and began uprooting and hurling trees at the village.
That was when Idrasil bit into her carried tree root, bad habit or not. Uprooted trees and an undying human preaching peace with his mouth. For a young elf of merely sixty-two, this "non-peace" was too much.
And now.
Time passed in impasse; trees had been uprooted enough to create a clearing around the village, and three chewed-up root remnants lay at Idrasil’s feet, matching her shaken peace.
Crack! Crunch!
With indirect emotional release, her wavering peace steadied slightly.
“Narim. That human—no, that creature—will surely threaten the village greatly!”
“...When will the other Narims return?”
“They went to clear the source of corruption pushing near the village lately, so not until deep night at earliest.”
“Corruption... then not night, but tomorrow at sunrise. They’ll need moonlight.”
Ptoo!
Idrasil spat the fully chewed root, pulled a fresh one from her bosom, and bit it. The Grand Matron must stay by the World Tree branch; Nerans lacked strength to stop the monster. Leaving it would affect the barrier. As the sole remaining Narim, she had one choice.
“I’ll go out.”
“Narim Idrasil! Too dangerous! A monster uprooting trees barehanded, and outsiders behind who seem his companions! If you go, you’ll return to the earth!”
“I know. But if we leave it and the auxiliary anchors truly damage, it’ll burden the Grand Matron, who pours all her power into maintaining the barrier. Young as I am, I’m still a Narim. If returning to earth protects the village, I won’t hesitate.”
“Ugh, Narim Idrasil...!”
Leaving the tearing-up Nerans, Idrasil approached the village barrier. The patrol path felt like the day she first left, shaking her peace.
Crunch!
“Will you join me, Ariel?”
Nocking an arrow and summoning her lifelong spirit companion Ariel, Idrasil finished preparing.
“May peace settle upon the forest.”
Etching the village’s sight one last time, Idrasil leaped lightly like a feather.
****
“Hey, Ottoman. That... really okay?”
“Ugh...”
“Gruk. No matter how I think, that big small human was meant to be born our kind.”
“Indeed. Never seen such a bizarre standoff in my life...”
Meanwhile, the Professor’s group outside the barrier wasn’t much different from the elves inside.
“Ha ha ha! Look at this! Ripping right along the grain! Birch? If I didn’t have tech import limits, I’d haul a truckload of A4 paper and scatter it before your eyes! There’s this thing in the world called ‘paper’—chop trees, grind ’em, soak in chemicals, spread thin! How’s that! Horrifying just imagining, right?”
Boom! Kwazazak!
Watching another tree fly into empty air like kindling, the group sighed deeply in unison—even the troll Notum.
“Aren’t we here to hire a guide to the Elf Forest? Massacring trees right before elves... Isn’t their tree love fanatic?”
“True. Back when I left the forest and roamed arenas, a precious elf slave serving VIPs came to our pit. Unusually, her cell got live potted trees regularly. Said elves sicken and die without. That’s how deep the elf-tree bond runs.”
“Then... isn’t what the hero’s doing basically declaring war? ‘Let us in! Or we kill all your trees! Die without trees, right?’ Sounds like that?”
Ottoman’s face turned earth-colored at Lucilla’s words, legs dangling from the luggage pile as she watched the Professor. Not figuratively—literally before a race that lived or died by trees, torturing and slaughtering them so cruelly. Wouldn’t it have been more peaceful if he’d stepped up and blasted a wave?
Ottoman gauged his remaining mana, staring at the now-visible elf barrier shrouded in tree debris. Maybe the Professor would suggest kidnapping an elf and fleeing.
‘That guy could pull it off. Hell, with his silver tongue, brainwash some naive forest folk into recruitment bait!’
As he thought that, the barrier rippled—someone emerged. Except Lucilla, the four sprang up shouting.
“Elf!”
“It’s an elf!”
“Water spirit!”
“Gruk. Pointy-ears.”
.
.
.
.
Excluding Ottoman, the other three heads swiveled joyfully toward the water mage.
“Aha! Grandpa, you’re a water mage, right?”
Lucilla’s voice leaked from the luggage pile—when did she hide? Recalling merchant tales of "mages and spirits," she stifled laughter.
“So you can’t fight her, huh?”
“Ahem... Uh...”
Under the group’s demanding stares, Ottoman just cleared his throat.
****
[She’s out!]
‘Whew, tough. Wondered when.’
Honestly a bit annoyed, but no intent to antagonize elves. Needed to coax her into guiding to Elf Forest—too much bad blood would ruin it.
Per common elf lore, I figured the first bark peel—shrrrip—
‘N-no! Please! The tree’s in pain!’—she’d come sobbing out. But they didn’t budge till sawdust flew like a furniture factory, so I worried—then finally, an elf emerged.
- professor: Hey! Anyone know elf habits or must-knows? Spill quick!
- Take a Look: Pale skin, pretty.
- Jokasss: Long-lived. 250? 300 years?
- Heung An Mandu: Good with bows, use spirit arts.
- professor: Not that piecemeal crap! Specifics—culture, customs!
- Deer Drug Please: / Love trees dearly. Die without. / Strictly vegan, prefer woven grass clothes over leather. Guests like too. / Die without periodic kin contact. / Fine locked one spot, but sealed space kills quick. / This much?
- professor: What’s with that suspiciously pro knowledge.
- Deer Drug Please: King God Ranker ‘Sexy Demon Lord’ nim’s elf brothel management gold☆tips.
- professor: *)^&*!!! Not that, dumbass!
- Speed Wagon: That’s all there is.
- professor: Why?
- Speed Wagon: 1st World: Never met elves. 2nd: Rare meets, cleared no special events. 3rd: Light Church super racism—norm elves resist humans to death or hide, only brothels. No real info.
- professor: But... community has elf companion, combat screenshots plenty?
- Deer Drug Please: Slave companions. Dress-up dolls. Combat? Just blowfish with bows.
[So, no info at all?]
‘Guess... so?’
Tadap!
Mid-thoughts, the emerged elf perched on a nearby tree stump. Bow aimed, but close enough to discern features—ready to talk.
As I stepped forward, five arrows thunked at my feet in a blink.
“I heard you want dialogue. This distance, voices carry fine?”
Looking up: fierce-eyed elf aiming at me.
‘Elf, huh... Civilized, but unreasonable race. Let’s see how terrifying this headshot-happy elf captain is...’
.
.
.
.
.
“!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Raising his head, mulling arguments for the elf debate, the Professor
“Huh...”
Froze solid.
Voice cold as frost yet beautiful.
Smooth, sturdy leather garb unlike tales, blue-haired elf biting what looked like bark.
But that wasn’t what caught the Professor’s eye.
“Good heavens. How... such a thing!”
Step—
Pew pew pew!
Arrows rained before the dazed forward step, but entranced, the Professor didn’t stop.
“I-Impossible! Beautiful! Pinnacle of beauty! Can’t endure. I absolutely, cannot...”
“D-don’t come! I’ll shoot! You clearly want peace...”
“Gone!”
“Eek!”
Thwack!
Before Idrasil finished warning, the charging Professor toward her spread massive arms with thigh-power force. Stunned by his sudden rush, tales of "terrifying humans" from village elders flashed in her mind.
[Humans can’t be trusted. They always covet us.]
[Caught by them, unimaginable horrors await.]
[So Idrasil, if human hands seize you...]
‘Ahh, Grand Matron...’
Idrasil shut her eyes under the looming shadow.
Slosh—
Splash!
“...Huh?”
The shadow passed her, engulfing the standing water spirit behind.
“Ooooh! Such pure water! Never dreamed! Not distilled purity’s pointlessness! This, indescribable, ooooh, my god! Came here right!”
Idrasil dropped her bitten root, watching the Professor swing wildly to touch her spirit Ariel—ignored right beside him—while Ariel dodged, transmitting negative emotions.
“This... human?”
“Just once! Let me hug once!”
“Let go! I’ll become one too! Water spirit! Water spirit before my eyes!!!’
Chasing droplet-scattering Ariel, and far off, the old human thrashed, grabbed by others—Idrasil plunged into confusion.
****