Rigorous Training and the Elves' Calamity

"Alright, next up is training here."

Come to think of it, those three laps around the field were just the warm-up, huh? I'd already forgotten because I was totally wiped out after a little jogging.

The place Ivelin led me to was a training ground right next to the field.

'Calling it a training ground is a bit of an overstatement, honestly.' It was just an open space with jungle gyms, rope climbs, and a small rock wall for basic drills.

Seeing the spot sparked a sudden question, so I asked Ivelin.

"Could you tell me the exact purpose of this training? It doesn't seem like it's just for building basic stamina."

"Hm… the purpose, you say? Wait a moment."

I'd asked casually, but surprisingly, Ivelin pondered it at length.

'I figured he'd just say something like 'do as the adult says'—this is unexpected.'

I passed the time idly watching an ant crawl across the ground. Finally, after what felt like forever, he spoke.

"There are many unknown threats beyond the forest. The top priority is, of course, survival. No matter how powerful a mage you become, remember that humans only have one life."

"The threats outside the forest—you mean the magic beasts that feed on demonic energy, right? My magic could burn down most of those."

"No, they're far more intelligent and vicious than mere beasts—insulting to even compare."

"Pardon?"

The Elder had clearly told me that just eliminating the magic beasts and the source of evil outside would be enough. But from Ivelin's mouth came a different story.

'Did I underestimate Easy Mode too much?'

I'd thought venturing out would be a risk-free experience grind, but apparently not. So what exactly were these threats?

Unable to contain my curiosity, I asked Ivelin again.

"Ah, that's information humans aren't ready for yet. I'll tell you once training's over."

"…."

If you're gonna say something, finish it—now I'm just left feeling uneasy.

'Feels like one of those game characters from back in the day who talked like that.'

The more I thought about his answer, the more annoyed I got. No wonder the top way to piss someone off is 'starting to say something and cutting off midway.'

And the second way? Well, that's….

"Now, copy my movements exactly."

'Huh, easier than I thought.'

The word "rock climbing" sounded intimidating, but up close, it was surprisingly simple. It wasn't a sheer cliff without gear—just holds carved in for support. Grab and climb.

"Whoa, this is way easier than I expected!"

"Looks like we'll need tougher obstacles next time."

Maybe because my body's so light now, I climbed it effortlessly. But wait, what did Ivelin just say? Tougher obstacles?

"Did you make all this yourself, by any chance?"

"Indeed. If the human we summoned dies screaming out there, wouldn't it shatter the pride of all elves?"

"Yeah, fair point."

"So train hard and make sure you come back alive. That's the path for the elves' sake."

I'd only known Ivelin for less than an hour, but his speech patterns were already growing on me.

'He could just say 'come back alive' straight up, but nooo.' This guy—this elf—was too embarrassed to say it plainly and had to beat around the bush. Seeing a centuries-old tsundere elf made me chuckle involuntarily.

"What's so funny? Hurry up and come down."

I reached the top in no time. It was only about 30 meters, but still, that sense of accomplishment felt great.

'Gotta control my face first.'

Every time "tsundere elf" crossed my mind, his stern face popped up, making my lips twitch. I schooled my expression by dredging up some sad memory and started descending—

"Huh? No foothold under my foot?"

"Danger!"

Daydreaming while coming down, plus muscle fatigue from the sprints—my foot slipped.

My balance shifted in an instant, and my hands couldn't react in time, sliding off.

'Am I really gonna fall like this?'

Then, from behind, Ivelin's incantation rang out.

In response, a fierce ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wind surged from the ground. Even though I'd let go of the wall, my body didn't plummet. Supported by the wind's flow on my back, I descended slowly like riding ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an escalator.

"Tch, you fool. Did you think I'd send you up without any precautions?" Ivelin grumbled gruffly, but his face showed more worry than anyone's.

'I was startled for a sec too, but it ended as a close call. And that precise magic control was impressive.'

"Whoa, that was actually fun! Can you do it again?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Sorry about that—I rushed you and nearly caused an accident."

"Nah, it was my mistake. If anything, I'm the one who should apologize."

"No need. Here, take this instead."

Ivelin rummaged in his pocket and handed me a ring. The elegant wooden design was satisfying, but would it fit my fingers?

"What, not taking it? Then I'll take it back."

"No, it's not that—will the size fit me?"

"Quit yapping and try it on already."

'Which finger do rings usually go on? Never worn one before.'

Figuring my less-used hand was best, I slipped it onto my left ring finger. The moment it touched my skin, it wrapped around softly like a living thing, resizing perfectly.

"Whoa! That's amazing!"

"Impressed? Made by linking World Tree branches—its performance is unmatched. No dwarf could craft its equal."

The ring had stats? I didn't feel anything immediately. Checking my Status Window—

'A stat that wasn't even there before just appeared.'

Guess you need at least 1 in a stat for it to show in the window. So before the ring, my Luck was 0? Nah, I wasn't unlucky my whole life because of missing stats—the game's Luck probably works differently from real "luck." I'll figure out how later.

For now, table ring thoughts—finish what needs doing.

"Whoa~ Thanks so much for the ring. I'll treasure it."

"…."

That look on Ivelin's face—blank at a glance, but definitely thrilled. Waiting for my reaction before speaking, ears twitching up like a rabbit's.

'A rabbit-eared, tsundere, centuries-old male elf—rare combo.'

As if sensing my irreverent thoughts, the rest of training ramped up hard.

"Human, you haven't hit your limit yet. Push harder."

I was dying, and his constant prodding built stress even in my mild temper. Worst part? He'd ghost-like sense when I truly hit my limit and call a break.

Time flew by ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unnoticed, and sunset approached. I'd worried about night training, but thankfully, Ivelin called it at the perfect moment.

"That's enough for today."

"Haa… finally over."

The words barely left his mouth before I collapsed onto the field.

Ivelin eyed me like I was pathetic. But I knew better now—that gaze meant he was proud.

"So, what was that thing you said you'd tell me after training?"

"You think training's really over?"

'Didn't you just say 'that's enough for today'?'

I shot him a reproachful look, and he hurriedly explained.

"Child, today's session is done, but you'll come tomorrow, the next day, and every day after, right?"

Damn, he had a point—no real comeback. I'd busted my ass today hoping to tie up that loose end, but the world doesn't roll that easy. Guess it'll come later—let it go for now.

"Eh, nothing to be done about it."

I said it casually, regret ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lingering, but Ivelin panicked instead.

"Wait—if you're that curious, I suppose I can tell you. You'll need to know eventually anyway."

"Nah, I'm beat today—heading back now is fine."

I pretended disinterest, hiding my true feelings.

'Dunno why, but with Ivelin, acting like this feels like it'll draw out more info.'

And I nailed it.

"Human, sit a moment. I'll tell you what to watch for outside."

'Bouncing him here might actually hurt his feelings.'

I shut up and listened obediently.

"You know elves lose power outside the World Tree's blessing, right?"

"Yeah, that's why you can't leave—got it."

"But some forget that grace and abandon the forest on their own. We call them Dark Elves. Without the World Tree's blessing, their intellect clouds, turning them into beastly monstrosities."

I'd heard "Dark Elves" from Silleia, but she'd said they were fairy-tale stuff. The only common thread was lost intellect and savagery.

I voiced my doubts, and Ivelin elaborated.

"Your point is valid. Most elves don't know of Dark Elves. No need to explain—those bound by the blessing see it as natural law."

"And?"

"But the Elder inherits the World Tree's essence, does he not? His near-omniscient power pierces even areas beyond its grace."

In short: We plebs don't know, but the Elder does.

I'd wondered why elves always invoked the World Tree—turns out its power's insane. All I'd seen was a pathetic husk, so I couldn't imagine.

'Was that drink Ivelin gave me made from World Tree sap or fruit? Instant stamina refill screams World Tree origin.'

My questions cleared, but Ivelin added more.

"And there's another reason to beware Dark Elves. With the World Tree's decline, tensions among elf generations aren't harmonious—do you know that?"

"Yeah, the last couple generations seem on edge."

"Can't sum it up in one sentence. It ties to the elves' ongoing calamity, spanning decades to now."

"Calamity?"

"More like heaven's punishment, perhaps."

His face mixed bitterness and resolve as he continued.