The Nomadic Elf Slayer (1)
It had gone smoothly.
Or, at least, that was what I had thought.
Hunting sandworms and their adult forms had been dangerous work, but not in the realm of life-threatening peril.
Thinking back to the brawl with the orcs only days earlier made it even clearer.
—How many times had I nearly died?
Without the miracle called Ashtien, I would have been claimed by the vulture that very same day.
*“Easy peasy,”* I muttered when Ushun tossed out her usual string of curses.
*“Sure, nothing ever ends easy.”* I grumbled right along with her, voice low and sharp.
The bugs shot up from the ground, wings buzzing like a swarm rising from the dirt.
“Everyone brace yourselves!”
Ahor’s voice rang out, crisp and commanding, nothing like her usual measured tone.
“A sandstorm is coming!”
Exactly as she said, the wind slammed into us with sudden force.
A biological catastrophe born from the insects’ frantic wings.
The world blurred into a hazy curtain of dust.
*
Ahor’s mind spun at lightning speed.
*“Insect swarm.”*
Not a locust horde of endless numbers like the ones that devoured crops.
Neither was it an apocalyptic legion of colossal monsters.
Even the mid-sized varieties weren’t that abundant, and only a couple of true beasts stood out.
Still, that alone was enough to spell disaster.
But worse than the sheer scale, something about the very presence of these creatures felt wrong.
Ahor had spent her life fighting using the enemy’s own methods against them. Understanding their tactics was vital.
This situation unsettled her on a deeper level.
*“They rarely cooperate with one another.”*
Placed in one spot, they would only fight over scraps.
*“What could have unified them?”*
A swarm.
And whatever controlled the swarm.
The word that rose naturally was…
*“Queen…?”*
A chill raced down Ahor’s spine.
These were no ordinary grass-eating insects.
Undeniably carnivorous apex predators—except somehow their instincts and bodies were far too perfectly honed.
Why could locusts form such massive clusters? Because humans farmed the land, filling their bellies with endless crops. Apply that same logic to these monsters, and what would they demand the moment they reached a village?
—All livestock and every last human.
*“Where did they come from before they just… appeared? Were they feasting on caravans the whole time?”*
No. If they had, the damage would have been catastrophic. No reports of such losses existed.
*“They only formed this pack recently, and we happened to be the first easy targets.”*
It was almost a blessing that they hadn’t grown stronger yet.
*“If they stayed in the desert, the pack would starve and wither…”*
Ahor prayed they had no purpose beyond mindless hunger.
Otherwise the conclusion waiting at the end of this path would be far too grim.
*“No way.”*
Crazy as it sounded, she assumed the queen guiding them possessed intelligence on par with a human’s—or even her own.
Ahor would have abandoned the desert entirely.
The army devoured vast quantities of food. To keep the pack alive, they would need to keep eating without pause.
The desert was barren rock. How could it sustain such appetite?
*“That scarcity kept the swarm from forming.”*
With resources limited, they viewed their own kin as rivals rather than allies.
Raiding caravans had its limits; they could only cross peaks and desert roads.
*“You’ll end up crossing into the prairie whether you like it or not.”*
Ahor bit her lip hard.
*“They all have to be exterminated. At minimum, the queen must die by our hands.”*
There was no debate. That was the only possible outcome.
How much ruin would a locust swarm that reached the prairie unleash? Impossible to guess.
If the locusts were merely the destroyers of settled civilizations, they might not thrive on open grassland.
But these creatures were different.
The prairie was pastureland.
The vast, tender meat they craved lay spread across its endless miles.
If locusts were the destroyers of farming societies—settled civilizations—these monsters could become the slayers of nomadic life.
*
“Archers, ready!”
The elf archers lifted their bows. The hazy vision and blurry silhouettes made perfect conditions for shooting.
“Concentrate when they’re bunched up!”
Ahor herself didn’t want to loose arrows in this sandstorm, but the swarm still had to be thinned while clustered.
They would scatter in the wind, creating gaps. Once they were scattered, the effectiveness of arrows would plummet. Supply lines couldn’t endure the waste.
*Thwack.*
While the elves formed lines and loosed arrows, Vesta narrowed his eyes and tensed his body.
He was ready to react in an instant to any incoming threat.
A dark shape brushed into his peripheral vision.
Vesta’s blade flashed out.
*Thud.*
The sound was wrong. The feel in his hand was wrong. Not the clean slice of steel on flesh, but something heavier, like a hammer strike.
*“Hard as steel.”*
Even though it was a small variant, its natural density remained unchanged.
The creature slammed into the blade and slammed into the ground, still moving, legs kicking uselessly.
*“I need to swing with more precision. Clean cuts.”*
He had assumed it was dead only for it to crawl back and try to sink fangs into his ankle.
Vesta took a step closer and brought his boot down hard.
*“…!”*
The creature was still alive despite the stomp.
It shook like a huge wasp that refused to die even after being crushed under a human’s foot.
Startled by the ridiculous vitality, Vesta brought the blade down again. The head of the small armored bug split cleanly and fell away.
He turned his gaze.
*Boom.*
Ushun stood in another direction, shield held shorter than usual, her blows precise and devastating.
A moment later—
*Boom.*
A brutal sound. Ushun collided with a mid-sized armored bug, the clash of forces instant.
More of the same variety piled on.
Ushun was forced backward and swallowed by the sandstorm.
Vesta took one step toward her, then forced himself to stop.
He had to trust her here.
*“Ushun can’t lose.”*
No warrior like her would fall to a mid-sized bug. Instead of rushing to her aid, he had to protect the fairies pouring arrows into the fray.
He swung his blade while slightly shielding the storm.
*Thwack.*
The creature was half-cut and slammed into the ground.
*“More precision. A little more.”*
Like aiming for the neck joints.
Through hazy eyes and tiny gaps in the enemy formation.
The conditions were terrible, but he had never been the kind to complain about disadvantage and switch opponents.
He had simply fought on.
Killed a few, stomped more.
The sandstorm began to ease.
“That’s enough. Conserve arrows. Cease fire.”
“Cease fire!”
The elves drew their weapons.
Their bows and arrows now aimed at the insect swarm.
“Mid-sized variants!”
The moment he heard that voice, Vesta moved.
He stood directly in front of the elf woman.
The bug was far away. To Vesta it was the distance he could see; to the creature it must have seemed a single step.
*“Can I reach it?”*
He widened his narrowed vision.
*Whoosh.*
He exhaled and closed the distance. A blade could only wound someone at the exact tip, and the one who controlled the space controlled the fight.
In Vesta’s view the target filled the entire picture. Not as massive as a large variety, but still larger than any beast he had ever faced.
One strike would not be enough.
At the precise moment of impact, Vesta gripped the hilt tight.
*CRACK!*
Small sparks of fire lit the evening—metal flakes from the blade. The edge of his sword was slightly chipped.
Vesta positioned the blade where the creature’s leg—more accurately, the joint near its torso—would pass.
The bug thrust its leg forward with terrifying speed.
*Creak.*
The result was grotesque. The creature brushed past Vesta and lost its entire leg in a single clean slice.
“Please finish it for me!”
Vesta shouted and moved on to the next target.
The elf woman stared at him in mild astonishment.
“First time seeing someone my junior protected like this.”
*Smack.*
“Ugh.”
Ahor’s hand struck the woman’s back, then she lifted her blade and advanced without pause.
While squinting her eyes at the tiny figure, Ahor watched the armored bug’s vicious jaws clack together.
Her gaze remained cold as she drove the blade into the insect’s neck.
*Thunk. Grind.*
And just like cutting paper, the creature’s neck was severed.
After faithfully carrying out the order that might one day be her superior’s, Ahor glanced back at the elf woman.
“Stay alert.”
“…Ah! There are bugs there too.”
The woman hurried forward.
Ahor stomped the wriggling head of the headless body and said,
“…Not bad.”
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