Chapter 628: The Elven City
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 628: The Elven City
Splitting time and expanding his cognitive domain. It went beyond mere sight; he heard with his ears, smelled with his nose, and felt the world through his very skin.
Because his body reacted instinctively, calculating the exact moment the incoming projectile would strike was incredibly easy. Encrid perceived the arrow's trajectory and timing, and found his answer.
He raised his arm, moved it into the path of the flight, and clenched his fist.
Thwack. Vibrrr.
The arrow was caught firmly in his hand. Its target had been clear: just below the shoulder blade.
‘No intention to kill.’
Everything happened in the immediate wake of the wind's whistle reaching his ears. Encrid froze with his right hand raised, the shaft and fletching of the arrow trembling in his grip.
He could vaguely sense the intent behind the shot, yet he couldn't pinpoint exactly where it had come from. Perceiving the arrow's trajectory as a straight line, logic dictated it had come from directly ahead. His mind understood it that way, but his senses refused to accept it.
The discrepancy between the facts grasped by his mind and the lingering sensations of his body was deeply intriguing.
"I can't read their presence," Pel said.
Encrid, still holding the arrow, scanned the surroundings. It was the same for him; nothing was visible to his eyes.
As he watched—
Whiz—!
Three more arrows flew toward them. The archers' breathing was so perfectly synchronized that the sound of the three shafts cutting through the air overlapped, sounding like a single shot. But that was only the sound.
His expanded cognitive domain remained active. Encrid knew there were three projectiles.
If he could catch one, why not three?
Encrid dropped the arrow in his hand, snatched two of the incoming shafts with both hands, and kicked the third.
Crack!
The kicked arrow deflected sharply to the side. Catching an arrow was impressive enough, but kicking one out of the air was on another level entirely. It was a stunt—a feat impossible to display unless one was a master knight.
"I suspect a spell," Pel said from behind, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He was referring to their inability to detect the enemy.
Encrid agreed with Pel's assessment. He waited for the opponent's next move. It didn't seem like they were being welcomed.
Should he take a more aggressive approach? No matter what action he took, he couldn't predict how they would react. If he threatened them, would they rain down a shower of arrows? If so, would they be willing to talk once he blocked them all?
"Isn't this a bit too lively for a welcome, you pointy-ears?"
There was no reason to speak kindly to opponents who shot first without warning. Luagarne spat out the venomous remark.
"……Outsiders are not permitted entry."
A voice echoed from beyond the green mist. Even upon hearing it, Encrid could not pinpoint its location. The sensory disconnect persisted. Of course, even without a target, there was plenty he could do. Chopping down the trees visible beyond the mist was one such option.
‘They would absolutely hate that.’
Undoubtedly. Even putting Sinar aside, the elves he had encountered in the past were all the same. From experience, Encrid knew all too well how much elves detested the felling of trees.
Yet, it wasn't as if they always risked their lives just to protect plants. The saying that elves died protecting trees, grass, and forests actually meant they were protecting their homeland rather than the flora itself. Ultimately, like any other race, the preservation and prosperity of their kind were what mattered most; the forest simply happened to be the ideal environment for them.
Grass, leaves, dew, and fruit were the staple diet of elves, and the forest's essence was their very source of life. That was why they worshipped a massive tree at the center of their city, calling it the World Tree. In reality, while some World Trees were imbued with magical or sorcerous power, others were simply ordinary, giant trees that had been nurtured over centuries.
In any case, since Luagarne had spat such harsh words, one might expect the elves to retort with something like, "Get lost, you cousin of a frog," but they didn't. They simply stuck to their point.
"This is no place for outsiders."
"I see," Encrid replied nonchalantly.
If he shouted, 'Sinar, let's play!' would she come out? Unlikely. Then should he just barge in and cause a ruckus? He was considering that option as well. He was still holding the arrows in his hands. To anyone else, that could be seen as a significant threat.
"We recognize your outstanding skill, but even if you kill us, the barrier will not be dispelled," the elf said again.
It was a rational, logical response. Elves were creatures who would weigh logic even with their own lives on the line. That cold composure reminded him of Sinar when they first met.
Though they were conversing, it felt like talking to empty air. The voice was clear, but its location remained untraceable. Ever since learning sensory techniques, Encrid could tell whether a wind was a southeasterly or a northwesterly just by hearing a banner flutter. He had even channeled Will into his body. Yet, he still couldn't discern the direction.
Encrid hadn't come to threaten them, let alone torment them. Of course, if things took a turn for the worse, he might swing his sword a few times. What if they were the ones persecuting Sinar? If so, they might have to engage in a brief "conversation of blades."
With just a few swings of his sword, Encrid had slain the Walking Fire and cut down paladins. That conversation would hardly be a pleasant one.
After a few thoughts crossed his mind, Encrid spoke.
"Sinar Kirhais."
He stated his purpose first by speaking the name of the elf he knew. Still, no presence could be felt from the forest.
"I came to find her," Encrid added. He threw the words out, giving them ample time to think.
"……Who are you?"
Only then did a somewhat normal greeting come. Encrid thought he was rather poor at introducing himself. He assumed the elves wouldn't know him, but in truth, that wasn't the case. Did the elves really live completely cut off from the world just because they lived behind a barrier?
The answer was no. They, too, interacted and traded with other groups.
Pel, who came from the Shepherd of the Wilderness, had experienced a similarly closed society. He knew that no matter how much they closed their ears and shut their eyes, they couldn't possibly be ignorant of someone whose name had spread as widely as Encrid's. He also thought it wouldn't look bad if he introduced Encrid before Encrid had to call himself 'Encrid of the Border Guard.'
Actually, he also just wanted to step forward for no particular reason. Pel took a step forward, his mouth opening before Encrid's.
"The Lord of the Border Guard, the Guardian of the Border Guard, the Knight of the Iron Wall, the Demon Slayer, the Heartbreaker... ah, scratch that last one. This is Encrid of the Order of Madness."
His voice was remarkably clear, carrying perfectly beyond the forest shrouded in green mist. Perhaps because he had been beaten up during their sparring sessions on the way here, a rather annoying phrase had slipped into the introduction, but the effect was undeniable.
"The Knight of the Iron Wall?" a voice other than the first elf's spoke.
"The Guardian of Demonic Charm?" yet another elf added.
Hey, you're mixing up the nicknames, Encrid thought about saying something, but decided against it. After all, changing the titles one was called by was a matter of actions, not words.
The elves' tone remained calm and quiet, but a hint of emotion had seeped into their words. A faint trace of admiration and surprise was subtly woven in. Of course, it was so discreet that anyone who wasn't exceptionally sensitive would have found it hard to notice.
"A heartbreaker? Then the reason Lady Sinar returned alone was..."
He heard some useless chatter in the middle but decided not to press the issue for now. If it was about Sinar, he would have plenty of opportunities to hear it. Judging by their words, it didn't seem like they had locked her up.
Despite the slight misunderstanding, the elves seemed to know him well.
"I would like to visit. Is that possible?" Encrid asked.
Elves only admitted invited guests. Such was the rule of their city.
"If you truly are the Knight of the Iron Wall," the voice came again.
The group of elves did not believe Encrid's words outright. A few more questions and answers were exchanged, but in truth, demonstrating the martial prowess to snatch and kick away arrows was as good as proving his identity. If a fight broke out right now, hiding behind the mist wouldn't guarantee their safety. The elves hiding in the mist knew this as well.
To put it simply, someone with that level of power had no need to impersonate anyone else.
"It is an honor, Sir Demon Slayer."
After such deliberation, this response returned. A clear voice, presumably belonging to a male elf, answered.
"I have never seen anyone snatch arrows like that before. Human knight, you are truly remarkable. To kick an arrow away..." This time, a female elf, whose age was hard to gauge from her tone, spoke.
At the same time, their voices grew slightly clearer. The mist thinned out and spread wide. Only now did he realize that the mist had been hovering in one place without moving.
‘Ah, it was a perception disruption spell.’
He only figured it out after the mist shifted. Encrid memorized the sense of incongruity he had just felt, storing it in his Library of Experience. He didn't do it on purpose; it was a habit, like training his sensory techniques.
As the mist thinned, hazy figures began to appear. The shifting of the mist didn't mean it had vanished entirely, but like shadows taking shape as the sun went down, five elves materialized.
While people often imagined elves as universally slender and delicate, the reality was somewhat different. Three of the five were short. They were taller than dwarves, but by human standards, they looked like children who still had a lot of growing to do. Their frames were delicate, and they carried wooden bows larger than their own bodies. Unlike their youthful appearance, however, the defined muscles on their forearms set them apart from ordinary children.
These three elves were female. They were also the ones who had shot the arrows at Encrid. The remaining two were male; one was quite large, and the other had white hair.
As Encrid scanned the group, his gaze lingered on the white-haired elf, who then spoke. Encrid's eyes had paused on his hair for a moment, and the elf had picked up on it.
"Is it strange? Even elves' hair fades when they grow old."
"It's just my first time seeing it."
"When it's time to die, everyone returns to their homeland to pass away, so it must be a rare sight. First, let me apologize for shooting the arrows. They were meant as a warning; I didn't expect you to catch them."
Encrid nodded, indicating it was fine. Just as the elf said, the arrows hadn't targeted any vital areas. The intent was to warn, not to kill. The three shots fired afterward seemed more intended to test his skills.
Since Encrid's sole purpose was Sinar, he was satisfied just to have met someone who could give him answers. He stared intently at the white-haired elf, who appeared to be the decision-maker. Sinar had once mentioned that elves cared a lot about age. He recalled her emphasizing multiple times that with age came deep wisdom, so there was no reason not to listen to their elders.
"Let us go inside first," the white-haired elf suggested.
Encrid nodded. Pel and Luagarne followed behind.
"Sir Demon Slayer."
The large male elf called out to Encrid. He had a sharp jawline and fierce eyes. Encrid looked at him, wondering if he was trying to pick a fight, but a faint light of respect shone in his eyes. Even that was something one had to look closely to notice. These people were trained from childhood to suppress and control their emotions.
Thus, for an elf, this level of expression was equivalent to a human running up with cheers and sparkling eyes. It wasn't just this elf, either. The eyes of the other three elves held a similar look—though theirs seemed to carry a strange, subtle desperation.
He only knew because he had spent a long time with Sinar and had trained his senses; otherwise, he would have thought they were just staring blankly. In any case, knowing his name was surprising enough, but receiving looks of admiration was far from normal.
The large elf spoke, weighing each word carefully in a deliberate tone. It was a stiff, cold, and emotionally restrained sentence.
"It is an honor to meet you."
Right, he seems sincere.
Encrid read the emotion hidden beneath the elf's tone and nodded. This was the same elf who had called out from beyond the mist as soon as they realized his identity.
"If there is an opportunity later, would you cross swords with me?" he spoke again.
"A spar?"
"Yes."
"Anytime."
As the two conversed, the white-haired elf scolded him. "Do you think now is the time for that, Zero?"
Though it was a scolding, his tone remained perfectly flat.
"My apologies, Elder," the elf named Zero replied with a slight bow. It was such a dry reaction that if they were human, one would think he was bowing purely out of formality. As for the other three elves, they hadn't uttered a single word since revealing their faces.
"A bellicose elf, I see," Pel remarked. It was a sarcastic comment, delivered in a dry tone.
The elf looked at Pel, and Pel stared back. A small spark seemed to ignite between them, but the elf quickly averted his gaze, extinguishing the ember before the firewood could catch fire.
"How boring," Pel muttered. Pel was never one to back down when it came to fighting or picking quarrels; he was just usually overshadowed by Rem.
‘I need to keep my head straight,’ Encrid resolved, taking Pel as a negative example.
"This way."
The white-haired elder led the way, stepping calmly into the mist. Hardly any sound came from his footsteps—the characteristic stride of the naturally light-bodied elves. This was why elves were called natural-born assassins.
They kept walking inward, their vision slightly obscured as they entered the green mist. The mist itself seemed to be a barrier with opaque properties. Thanks to Esther, he had accumulated some magical knowledge; Encrid could at least figure out this much.
Before long, the ground sloped slightly downward, and a strange passage appeared. It looked like a long cave wrapped in a cylinder of leaves. Inside the tunnel, both the floor and the ceiling were made entirely of foliage.
Following them into the tunnel, Encrid lost track of time. With nothing but leaves in sight and the air thick with the scent of grass and flowers, it felt almost like a dream. Because of this, he didn't even realize it was some kind of spell or mystery.
Then, in an instant, he opened his eyes to find the tunnel gone, and the city of the elves came into view.
"Welcome to our city," the white-haired elf said.
There were no massive walls or grand castles. However, something incredibly striking caught his eye at first glance.
Puff.
A massive entity made entirely of wood raised an arm made of branches, smoking tobacco.
"What are you staring at? Never seen someone smoke tobacco before?" the tree giant said.
Encrid felt a sudden urge to pinch his own cheek.