Elves (1)

"So the others… elves, right? That's what they are?"

A nod.

"Don't just nod — say something. Haa. Anyway, you're telling me those other elves all went to the Holy Land? To serve the Sixth God?"

A nod.

Seated at the great round table, the pointed-eared Estel answered every question that followed with nothing but the silent motion of her head — up and down for yes, side to side for no.

It may have been convenient for her. For the person across from her, it was a disaster.

The paladin sitting opposite her let out a long, heavy sigh. Ordinarily, anything involving intelligence of this sort would have fallen to the heresy inquisitors — but this time he had been half-forcibly drafted and hauled in.

On his day off, no less.

The inquisitors were all out hunting slave traders who'd been trying to abduct beastfolk, and there simply hadn't been anyone left.

Why is someone of my rank stuck doing this… No — never mind that. She really is breathtakingly beautiful.

The elf across from him sat with her arms folded, glaring at him with a sullen expression — and her beauty was the kind that stopped the breath in your throat. Even the fury of being dragged in on his day off was starting to melt away under it.

According to the people who'd gathered around the gates of the Holy Land, everyone who had dismounted from the blue dragon — man and woman alike — had been more beautiful than sculpture. That claim, it turned out, had been nothing but the truth.

"Right — so, Estel, was it? Why didn't you go with the others? Is there some special reason you stayed behind?"

Estel's head, which had been bobbing without pause, came to an abrupt stop. She furrowed her brow in what looked like careful thought, then rummaged in her robes and produced something.

What she set on the round table was a bracelet webbed with cracks, a bow smashed beyond repair, and a single withered scrap of tree bark.

"These are…"

Looking closely, the bracelet seemed familiar. The paladin thought for a moment, then clapped his hands together. It was one of the sacred relics awarded to the champions of the Duel Festival. Several of the relics had shared the same design, and the fact that he'd reviewed them in advance was paying off now.

"These are sacred relics. Ones that would have been awarded at a Duel Festival held some time ago. Where did you get them? Don't tell me you participated in that festival?"

A nod.

Estel inclined her head, then parted her lips just slightly.

"That's right."

"…So you can speak. Then why on earth have you been silent until now—"

"Because it wasn't necessary."

What a headache of a conversation partner. After a brief exchange that confirmed she was no soft touch, the paladin's expression soured.

"I received these at the Duel Festival. They introduced me as a master of dagger combat."

"A master of dagger combat…? Ah — aah! The one who got knocked out by the young lady?"

A sharp glare.

Estel narrowed her eyes and fixed the paladin with a look that could cut glass. Perhaps it was a sore memory for her as well. Feeling rather pleased with himself for landing the jab, the paladin grinned and made a show of shuffling through his papers.

"Well, fine. Then could I hear why you didn't follow the other elves?"

"Hmph. There are two reasons I stayed. One is my people's vengeance. The other is personal."

"Your people's vengeance? Could you elaborate a little more?"

Just as Estel's finely furrowed brow began to smooth, a raucous shouting erupted from beyond the door.

"Mai—…!! Ripe—…!!! Sto— don't stop m—…!!!"

"That lunatic—! The horny—… horse…!! Stop it!!"

Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud—

Loud shouting and a rumble through the floor — the sound of something galloping, almost like a horse. What kind of maniac would make this much noise inside the Pantheon, let alone bring a horse in?

Clearly the junior knights had lost their minds. The paladin's face tightened slightly. He would have to pick a day and drill some discipline into them.

"Noisy."

"Ha, haha. I'll just step out and check for a moment."

Perhaps a fight had broken out outside. The paladin slowly opened the door.

The lock on the firmly shut door released under his hand, and—

BOOM—!!

"Mai—den—!!"

Something enormous smashed through the door. The paladin, who had just been opening it, dodged with a burst of reflexes worthy of admiration — but the poor door was not so fortunate.

Fragments of the shattered door scattered in a miserable spray. At the sudden intrusion, Estel's eyes went round as she stared at it.

Pruurrrh—

A rough snort. A glossy white mane, eyes glittering with a fierce light, a single horn thrusting proudly skyward — a horse white as snow from head to hoof.

Looking closer, what shone in its eyes was not mere spirit. Something hotter, more searing… passion? Or perhaps something closer to pure instinct — an impulsive, driving force.

Its gaze met the startled Estel's, and it seemed to smile.

Despite its unmistakable equine form, it smiled.

"How delightful to meet you again, O maiden! I have awaited a virgin such as yourself for a very, very long time!"

"…"

A horse that casually claimed acquaintance and started fretting over someone else's virginity. There was a faint, unpleasant familiarity to it — as if she'd run into a known pervert on the street.

For the briefest of moments, Estel seriously wondered whether she should have just followed the others to the Holy Land after all.

The moment the Holy Dragon Iver passed through the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Dimensional Gate, the messages stacked up one after another. My phone buzzed urgently, practically begging me to read them.

No rush. I started from the top and worked my way down.

"Seedling acquired… I can plant that later. Elves acquired? Not sure what that means. Building unlock can wait."

— "Ppi-ii? Ppi-iiii!!"

Apparently Iver's majestic form had been limited to the other world; she was back to being the adorable, tiny baby Iver. As if the dignified display had never happened, she circled the mine a few times and then dove straight into the hot spring.

— Splash!

— "Aaaaagh! Hot Spring King Iver has appeared!!"

— "Everyone snap out of it and form ranks! Today is the day we reclaim our hot spring!"

— "Ppi-hiiiiii—!!"

Watching the dwarves form up and douse her with water in unison while Iver bounced across the surface like a skipping stone, counterattacking — for some reason, a grand and solemn battle theme seemed to swell in the background.

I left the happily brawling bunch to their fun and swung the camera toward the new guests clustered in one corner.

Guests that Holy Dragon Iver had brought along entirely of her own accord, without a single word of instruction from me.

Elves.

Oh…

Zooming in, I had to admit it — true to their reputation as the race of beauty, every last one of them was gorgeous. They weren't chugging alcohol like certain laborers I knew, didn't sport bushy beards, and weren't hardened into rock by bulging ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠muscle.

Sigh. What's the point of comparing them.

One way or another, my workers were still dwarves. And after looking at them long enough, I'd grown fond of the little guys — they were starting to look almost cute.

I set the idle thought aside and opened the elves' Detailed Info.

The status ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ailment at the bottom caught my eye. The elves were currently under a semi-permanent curse. Looking at them, though, they seemed so healthy and lively it was hard to believe anything was wrong.

Of the message text, the phrases about residence restriction and ranged weapon restriction grated the most.

…Wooden clogs?

Another peculiar detail: every single one of them was wearing wooden clogs. The clogs they'd carved from wood clacked with every step — a stark contrast to how they'd walked barefoot up in the trees.

Elves and wooden clogs. About as mismatched a combination as carbonara in a wuxia novel. Could this have something to do with their curse?

Wooden clogs, trees, residence restriction…

The elves had clung to living in the treetops with near-obsessive insistence. Maybe the reason they'd lived up there like squirrels was the residence restriction — something like being unable to leave the trees, and working around it by carving wooden clogs to wear on the ground.

As a test, I pressed down firmly on one of the elves. Usually that kind of thing produced some kind of result.

…

"Not it, huh?"

Absolutely nothing happened — which was somehow more surprising. An awkward feeling crept over me.

The elf who'd been unintentionally squished was crouched on the ground, trembling.

Ah. Oops.

I hadn't meant to. Feeling guilty, I zoomed in a little and gently patted their head.

I did have a skill that could lift status ailments, but it was single-target — not practical right now. How long would it take to cast it on every single elf one by one?

— "Nngh."

After soothing the crouched elf as best I could, I opened my inventory. Nestled among the clutter of accumulated items, the Seedling of the Golden Tree gleamed.

I manipulated the inventory and planted the seedling somewhere far from the mine. Once it grew, it would get enormous — better for the scenery this way.

With a cute little pling of an effect sound, the seedling settled into the earth. In form and size it couldn't compare to the Golden Tree I'd seen before — but given enough time, it would grow strong and tall.

How am I supposed to wait that long.

A classic Korean gamer trait: any loading screen longer than three seconds is unbearable.

I pulled out a junk item that had been rotting in my inventory. One of the Mystery Shop goods I'd stocked up on every time, figuring it might come in handy someday.

It had been one of those items with no obvious use — so I decided to clear out the stock and dumped every last one of them.

Fluorescent-green bottles appeared above the seedling and poured their contents down like a waterfall — three of them in total.

I waited with a pounding heart, and then—

RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE—!

The screen began to shake like mad. Not a vibration — a full-blown seizure. The entire display of the Holy Land convulsed as if an earthquake had hit, and only after a long while did the shaking finally stop.

What the hell was that…

Was the potion I'd dumped on it a growth agent, or a shake-shake potion?

The dwarves hard at work, Iver splashing in the hot spring, the elves huddled together in the corner — all of them were flat on the ground, clearly startled out of their wits.

I hadn't meant to scare them, and my conscience gave me a sharp little jab.

As for the culprit behind it all — the Seedling of the Golden Tree…

…It only grew that much?

For all the dramatic effects, it had only reached the size of a small apple tree.