Chapter 961: Perhaps We Are Not Enemies
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 961: Perhaps We Are Not Enemies
After confirming the nature of the arrow, I instinctively looked toward the direction it had been fired from.
Amidst the dense foliage and obscured by thick trunks, I caught a fleeting glimpse of a figure before it vanished back into the woods.
"Such incredible dynamic vision... Is this the power of elven sight?"
I muttered to myself, then reached out to pull the arrow from the tree beside me.
It seemed I had been having quite a run-in with arrows lately. First, there was that Fallen Elf in the Glacial Throne Secret Realm who had been shot by Ming Xueming, and now here I was, facing the same treatment.
The assailant had fled. I couldn't tell if they were retreating or simply repositioning for another ambush.
Taking advantage of the brief lull, I realized I was standing on a lateral branch of a massive tree. Even for a side branch, it was remarkably thick—sturdy enough for an adult elf to stand on without issue. Of course, the naturally light weight of the elven race certainly helped.
I checked my gear: a Hard Vine Bow slung across my back and a woven quiver. There weren't many arrows left, maybe three or four, and judging by the wear on the shafts, they had been recovered and reused many times.
"Again?"
Just as I tucked the recovered arrow into my quiver, another one whistled through the air.
To ensure no resources were wasted, the shooter kept their angle flat rather than lobbing shots. They were even choosing their targets carefully to ensure that even if they missed me, the arrow would lodge into a nearby tree for easy retrieval.
By the time the second arrow was fired, I had already gathered a fair amount of information. Based on the game's introduction, the elves opposite me likely belonged to a community or tribe that was severely lacking in resources or manpower. Otherwise, there would be no need to be so... frugal when facing an enemy.
"The game's restrictions are still too heavy," I thought, frowning as I analyzed the situation.
At this moment, this character felt less useful to me than one of my clones. It felt as though I were operating through a veil of limitations. While the degree of freedom was top-tier for a game, the inherent framework of a "player character" was far too restrictive for someone like me.
Once again, I lost track of the attacker's position.
If I had my Mental Power, if the strength of my Five Senses Body Cultivation could be channeled into this character, or if I could interfere with transcendent forces to perform basic scouting, I wouldn't be in such a pathetic state.
But I didn't have those things. To make matters worse, the one operating this character was merely a clone!
It’s time to show some real skill.
Memories of past battles and combat instincts flooded my mind. Crushing... crushing... and more crushing.
Combat and victory are, by nature, a process of crushing your opponent. When you possess no single attribute that can overwhelm your enemy, victory is impossible.
If you ever defeat an opponent despite being at an absolute disadvantage and try to use that to disprove this theory, you will realize at the moment of your triumph exactly what it was that allowed you to crush them. Perhaps it was your caution, your calculations, your predictions, or even sheer luck.
As the combat experience of my countless clones acting as gatekeepers in the Arena—along with the lessons learned from their failures—surfaced in my mind, a uniquely shaped dagger lunged toward me from my rear flank.
There were no flashy spells, no transcendent powers, not even formal Body Arts. It was pure combat technique paired with an exceptionally agile body. Driven by physical instinct, I moved, catching the hand wielding the dagger and disarming the attacker in one fluid motion.
By the time the assailant realized they were outmatched, they had no path of retreat.
A sharp knee strike sent her flying. With no leverage in mid-air, the elf could only struggle fruitlessly as she plummeted toward the ground.
I followed immediately. Pushing off, my light body tapped the ground gracefully, landing almost simultaneously with the falling elf.
"Stop struggling." I pressed the captured dagger against her throat. Her eyes were wide with shock and lingering terror.
I noticed that my words were being translated into a language I had never studied. It must be the native tongue of the Emerald Forest's elven tribes.
"Pah! You damned Outsiders! You steal the bodies of our kin! You kidnap our people to satisfy your base, filthy, disgusting desires! And you do it all while wearing our skin...!"
"..." I listened as her words were translated back into the game language I understood.
I couldn't tell if it was a translation error or a quirk of the elven language, but even under the threat of death, her insults were remarkably... vivid. Not a single word was censored.
"Are you finished? I have no malice. Can we talk?" I asked.
I could guess why she hated me so much. Her words made it clear she recognized me as a Player. As for how she knew—perhaps it was some kind of detection device, or perhaps my movements when I first arrived gave me away.
I leaned toward the latter. After all, detecting a Player was something even the Main World struggled with, provided a Transcendent didn't intervene.
"You! You... how can you say such things! 'No malice'?! If you have no malice, give my teammate back! El is dead! You aren't El! You aren't... ugh!"
Before she could finish, I silenced her with a heavy blow to the back of her neck.
"Ow... hiss..."
"You need to calm down," I said.
I wasn't surprised that I failed to knock her out with a single strike. I knew how to kill, but knocking someone unconscious without killing them was a different matter entirely. It was only natural for there to be physiological differences between races.
A few more taps should do it.
Looking at the now-unconscious elf, a hint of aimlessness flickered in my eyes.
What now?
The game provided absolutely no guidance. Most players were used to this, praising it as "immersion," "freedom," and "realism."
After some thought, I decided to find something to tie her up. I wasn't planning on selling her; I just needed to prevent her from escaping or harming herself. I wanted to use her to learn about the state of this world and hopefully establish cooperation with the local elves.
After all, I was currently just a Player, completely cut off from the transcendent powers I usually controlled. I couldn't even draw a summoning rune to connect with my main body. I needed to borrow the power of the elves.
Elves were naturally attuned to transcendent forces. While they weren't a race that started at the Transcendent level, they undoubtedly received blessings of extraordinary power as they grew. Looking at this elf, she seemed to be a branch of the greater Forest Elf race. I wasn't sure of her specific sub-race, but calling her a Forest Elf wouldn't be wrong.
After searching around and finding no rope, I eventually settled for some vines hanging from the trees. Though they were plants, they were incredibly resilient.
To be safe, I wrapped them around her multiple times, binding her hands behind her back and tying her feet until she looked like a green cocoon.
Once finished, I leaned against a large tree to rest. This wasn't my original body; it tired easily, and the feedback was uncomfortably realistic.
With a moment of peace, I began to explore the game's various functions.
I discovered an appraisal feature, though the information it provided was sparse—more like basic object recognition. For instance, the bow on my back only showed a name, a combat rating, and some trivial remarks.
It looked something like this:
[Weapon: Hard Vine Bow]
[Combat Rating: 5]
[Remarks: Starting equipment for elves. Any firearm would completely outclass this. Not recommended for use.]
The remarks were longer than the actual stats. It was clear how much the Game World looked down on such weaponry.
Perhaps this was the tragedy of the elves.
The reason this world hadn't been completely conquered was likely to harvest Soul Essence through population exploitation. By matching specific combat strengths to corresponding world tiers, my arrival in this world was probably no coincidence.
I vaguely recalled that this game had combat power limits for entry. If a player was too strong, they were barred. Otherwise, uncontrolled "normal" players would have slaughtered every elf in this world in no time. In a sense, the Game World was quite adept at "sustainable development."
However... I had plenty of patience for a new world. No matter how much these elves offended me, it was a minor matter. I wasn't about to start making threats just yet.
After waiting for a while, I finally became familiar with this world, this character, and the identity I was inhabiting.
El. That was the name the elf had called "me"—the name of the original owner of this body.
Unfortunately, the character did not inherit the original owner's memories. The moment one became a Player, the body ceased to belong to that individual on a Soul Essence level; it became merely a medium for the Player to take control.
Even standard Resurrection Spells couldn't bring them back. Or rather, conventional resurrection wouldn't work; it would require a total reconstruction of the life essence.
Soul Essence reconstruction... even the Reincarnation Spell struggled with that. It wasn't impossible, but it was an immense hassle. It would be easier for me to use Soul Depiction to reshape them into a Soul Life.
An elf's self-healing capabilities were far superior to a human's. Though she had been knocked out, it was only temporary. She had already woken up, but upon realizing her situation, she immediately feigned unconsciousness. She thought I hadn't noticed, but to me, her little act was far too obvious.
After all, the one who was weak was the game character, not the one playing the game.
"Get up. I know you're awake. I'm not going to kill you."
When that familiar voice reached the elf's ears, a trail of tears silently rolled down her face. Not long ago, the comrade, the sister-in-arms, the friend who used that voice to speak with her... was gone.
"You won't kill me... so you're going to sell me? Let me suffer every humiliation and die slowly under your torture? If you have the guts, kill me now!"
"Do you know the concept of a 'Player'? What do your people call our group?" I asked.
As I spoke, I noticed my words weren't being bleeped out. It seemed the Game Architects didn't even bother to hide this information from a world like this.
"Of course I know! You should be called demons!"
"I've seen demons. Their methods are far more cruel than a Player's, but when it comes to being revolting, Players are certainly their equals."
As I said this, the elf was stunned again. My words were... off-script. But then again, Players were always like that—saying things that made no sense to elves.
"I am not a person of the Game World. I merely used their method of descent to come here. I can save your world."
"That's a lie not even a newborn elven babe would believe!" The elf snapped her head away, treating my words like a bad joke, her voice dripping with disdain.
"But surely you can see how I'm different from other Players? At the very least, I haven't killed you, have I?"
"Maybe you're just brewing an even bigger conspiracy!"
"Then how about you take me to your tribe? Once we're on your home turf, you can witness my sincerity for yourself," I continued.
"Hah! Finally showing your true colors... You just want to find our village. Give it up! I'm prepared to sacrifice myself. All you'll get is a corpse!"
"I am not one of those elves who would abandon their nobility and dignity just to cling to life!"
Hearing her words, I realized my earlier thoughts had been a bit naive. The trust between our sides was more broken than I had anticipated. And for the moment, I truly had no way to prove myself.
The atmosphere turned silent. I had no more questions, and she had no desire to talk to me.
"The strength of the Game World is far beyond what you elves can imagine. It's not that they lack the power to capture all of you; they have it, they just choose not to. Every 'even match' you fight is a facade created to ensure a continuous harvest." I broke the silence, speaking as if to myself.
Whether the elf in front of me wanted to listen or not didn't matter. Her hands and feet were bound, and her weapons were gone. She had no choice but to hear me.
"The Game World—the enemies invading you—isn't just invading your world. They are invading many."
"But not every world is something they can afford to provoke. Right now, this Game World has offended a powerful existence, leading their own world into a massive crisis. I am one of the factors that caused that crisis."
"I need to cause trouble for this world. Disrupting the worlds they are currently invading is enough to give them a headache."
"I used their methods to descend here for the first time. Perhaps it's not the method you would have hoped for, but to reach your world, it was my only option."
"Perhaps we are not enemies. If those destined to sacrifice themselves die so that hope may be brought to this world, would you rather cling to your stubbornness and watch your world slowly perish? Or will you take the hope bought by your kin's sacrifice and strike back at these filthy Players?"