Chapter 43: The Elven Dance Festival (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 43: The Elven Dance Festival (2)
Swoosh!
A sharp sound of something cutting through the air echoed through the forest.
Each time it rang out, the sound that followed was as predictable as a composed melody.
Thwack!
A trajectory that rode the wind, bending and curving.
Yet it moved with the speed of light.
An arrow, flying from somewhere, struck an elven archer's bow directly. The bow shattered, and its ribbon fluttered to the ground.
The elven village.
A spirit, watching everything, relayed the situation. The elf Evelyn, acting as commentator, shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Eloywn of the Dancing Flame is out! That leaves only eleven warriors! This is the fastest pace in the festival's history!!”
The Elven Dance Festival was a competition that spanned several days. Contestants would hide, seek, and ambush each other across the entire forest. Until only one warrior remained standing.
But already, nearly twenty participants had been eliminated. At this unprecedented pace, the competition looked like it would end in a single day.
Evelyn checked the remaining contestants.
Leon of the Silent Wings.
Eileen of the Singing Birds.
Irina of the Whispering Leaves.
.
.
.
All were expected contenders.
And then there was the outlier.
Alfia of the Playful Flowers.
*
“Gasp, haah, haah.”
Her breathing was ragged and harsh.
Irina scrambled frantically through the treetops. Her breaths were erratic, and her hand gripping the bow was slick with cold sweat.
Was that why? As Irina tried to swing from a vine to another tree, her hand slipped. Instead of a graceful arc, she plummeted diagonally and slammed face-first into the ground.
Splat.
Fortunately, she had landed in a swamp, so the impact wasn't severe, but her pale face was now caked in mud.
Mud had even gotten into her mouth, but Irina didn't have the presence of mind to spit it out. At the rustle of leaves, she whipped around.
An elf slowly emerged, pushing aside the foliage.
“Alfia…!”
Alfia, the one she had been certain would be the first eliminated, was still in the game. Not only that, she was the very person who had cornered Irina.
How?
There was no need to ask. A bow-shaped light was radiating from Alfia's hand.
“Wh-what is that? There's no way you can wield that kind of power!”
Irina shrieked, her voice filled with malice.
Alfia's reaction was impassive.
“To be honest, I'm still not sure myself. I wonder if this is a dream. If maybe the pain was so great that I lost my mind.”
But it wasn't a dream.
The shackles he placed on my soul are there. My soul, dyed in his color, proves this is not a dream.
Alfia was lost in thought.
Irina glanced around and commanded a spirit. Whoosh! A gust of wind lifted her effortlessly from the swamp. The wind swirled, stripping the mud from her body.
“Fire!”
A shout, as if signaling someone.
Irina's cronies, hidden in various spots, released their bowstrings in unison.
Dozens of arrows, wreathed in wind.
A concentrated barrage rained down, aimed at Alfia alone.
It was an attack that went far beyond simply trying to remove her ribbon, but they didn't care. It wasn't unheard of for an elf or two to have an 'accident' during the competition.
The arrows would turn Alfia into a porcupine, and the wind would tear her skin to shreds.
───That's what should have happened.
“……Huh?”
The fiercely shot arrows stopped dead in mid-air.
Completely ignoring the laws of physics.
They were blocked by a barrier of wind that spread out from Alfia. The wind spirits commanded by the other elves could not penetrate it.
“He's not an inferior species.”
The innocence in Alfia's eyes was gone. In its place was a faint red glow of fury.
The heads of the arrows that had been aimed at Alfia turned 180 degrees.
Kiiiiing!
The wind shrieked and swirled.
A spiral of wind capped each arrowhead.
“Don't you dare insult him.”
Fwoosh!
Like a cornered porcupine firing its quills, the arrows shot out in all directions.
Thwack-thwack-thwack!
Crack!
“Ugh!”
“Ah?”
Before they could react, the arrows struck their bows directly. An additional gust of wind blew. Kwagagagak! The bows were ground up as if in a blender.
To an elf, a bow is not a mere weapon.
It is a link between the elf and nature.
Another self, forged by melting a piece of their soul into it.
And now, that other self had vanished without a trace. It wasn't something that could be made overnight, nor could it be summoned again like some shadow clone jutsu.
“You! You…!”
“You should be grateful. If he had ordered me to eliminate elves, it would have been you disappearing, not your bows.”
“You traitor! Wagging your tail for an inferior species. Have you no pride? How can you still call yourself an elf?”
“Repaying his faith in me is my pride.”
She would accomplish any order Karami gave her.
Alfia raised her head. The spirits, bowing before their Servant, relayed every detail of the forest's information to her.
A figure stood atop a tree that seemed to reach the heavens.
The last survivor of the Elven Dance Festival.
‘Leon.’
Alfia rode the wind and ascended swiftly.
*
Right after the competition began, Leon had climbed a tree.
From a high vantage point, he could grasp the entire battle situation at a glance. He would read the flow of battle and snipe from a position beyond the enemy's reach.
The basics of hunting, one might say.
‘What is this?’
But something was strange.
He had found his spot, but there was no prey.
No, one piece of prey was coming right to him. And at a speed that rivaled running on flat ground. Leon's eyes widened in shock.
Thwack!
An elf soared through the air, parting the leaves with a drawn bow.
She was different from the forest elves he was used to seeing. Green wind formed the shape of wings on her back, making her resemble a butterfly.
Not aided by the wind, but one with it.
Alfia, cloaked in the wind of a Wind Servant, released her bowstring. An arrow of wind tore through the atmosphere.
Leon's eyes flashed open. As the captain of the guardians, his ability to sense danger was far superior to others.
The arrow's piercing power was unstoppable. His own spirits were no match for it. Making a swift decision, Leon threw himself down from the tree.
Thud.
He caught a branch on his way down, spun in mid-air, and landed lightly on it.
A gale blew past him.
He looked back to see Alfia chasing him, flapping her wings. Blades of wind generated by her wingbeats sliced through the giant trees blocking her path as if they were tofu.
“Leon! Don't run! Stand and fight!”
This is insane.
That's not spirit magic or archery anymore.
It was a natural disaster.
A natural disaster created by a butterfly.
A butterfly strong enough to cause a fucking storm.
A small event twisted by one man had brought a storm. Leon was facing the full brunt of the butterfly effect's aftermath.
Leon poured every ounce of his accumulated experience into fleeing. He ran from the storm at full speed.
But there was no way a mere person could escape a natural disaster.
Before long, Leon was swept up in the storm.
It was the day the most skilled elven warriors were utterly decimated by a single slave.
*
Is this a festival?
No, it's a funeral.
The atmosphere in the village brought that documentary to mind.
On the surface, there was a festive air, but the inside was hollow. The elves all wore dazed expressions.
All the warriors who participated in the competition had ended up like Alfia. Which is to say, they no longer had their bows.
It was the moment the elves' national strength was at its weakest in their entire history.
But there are always those who profit from such times. The artisan who crafted the elves' weapons was grinning widely.
For an elf, a race that rarely shows emotion, to have the corners of their mouth reach their ears meant that a member of any other race would have had their mouth split open long ago.
“Hmm, looks like I'll be busy for a while.”
The artisan clasped his hands behind his back and entered his workshop.
Not long after, an award ceremony was held to honor the victor.
Every elf, regardless of age or gender, gathered. From the Forest Guardians to the Elven Elders, and even their monarch, the Elf Queen.
Their numbers were only two thousand, but even a young elf possessed power greater than a full-fledged mage. Each individual was a walking weapon of war.
And Alfia was the strongest of the elves.
If they were cannons, Alfia was the Neo Armstrong Cyclone Jet Armstrong Cannon.
“How is it? Does it look good on me?”
Having received the laurel wreath from the Elf Queen's hands, Alfia returned to Karami with a bounce in her step.
The prize for winning the Elven Dance Festival. Its official name was the [Laurel Wreath of the World Tree], woven from the leaves and stems of the World Tree.
An in-game item that, when worn, spreads the energy of the World Tree, reducing the fatigue accumulation of elven slaves and increasing their work speed.
At the same time, it was a symbolic item signifying that she had taken the final step toward her complete liberation.
“It suits you well. You look like a princess.”
“Heehee~ You think so? I was thinking of taking it off because it felt awkward, but I guess I'll have to keep it on.”
*
That evening.
A small, private party for two was held to celebrate Alfia's victory.
The location was a shabby hut outside the barrier. A place like a deserted island in a vast ocean—the house where Alfia had lived her whole life.
“It's far too shabby for the home of the elves' greatest warrior.”
“Well… I suppose it is.”
“You should ask them to build you a house to commemorate your victory. A magnificent palace.”
“I don't know about a house, but I think they said they traditionally craft a bow for the winner. A bow made from a branch of the World Tree.”
The World Tree bow, capable of drawing out the power of spirits even more strongly.
It was the perfect prize for Alfia, who currently had no bow. After all, weapons created through her Servant consumed a great deal of power.
“Aah~”
Alfia downed her drink.
Ever since receiving the brand, she'd beaten the spirits into submission and no longer felt pain. Her body no longer needed alcohol, but how could she not drink on such a wonderful day?
Alcohol tastes even more special when you're in a good mood.
“Being like this reminds me of when we first met.”
“It does.”
A drinking contest with a strange man right after I came to my senses.
Did he say he'd free me if I won? I thought it was nonsense at the time, but looking back, I think Karami really would have let me go.
“It feels like it all happened in an instant, but so much has happened.”
Getting kidnapped, becoming a slave. Training, fighting a dark elf. Returning to the forest, entering the competition, and even winning.
It wasn't a long time even by human standards, so how short must it have felt for an elf who lives a thousand years? It passed in what was literally the blink of an eye.
But Alfia was certain. The few months she had spent with Karami were far more precious and valuable than the hundreds of years she had spent alone.
“Um, there's something I want to say….”
So she wanted to tell him. The words she had secretly cherished. The thing she wanted to do with Karami.
Now that she was a proper elf, she felt she could say it with confidence.
"You and I……“
Her face flushed. Was she already drunk?
But she couldn't back down now.
Humans have short lives as it is; every moment is precious!
Alfia squeezed her eyes shut and spoke forcefully.
“W-will you form a soul pact with me?!”
The thousand-year vow, made with the one you love.
An elven ritual where two people engrave their hearts onto each other's souls.
If she formed it with Karami, it would last a few decades at most. She would have to spend the long remaining time alone, but that was fine. Her soul was already shackled to him, anyway.
At first, she thought her soul had been tainted. She believed she could never experience a normal love. But with Karami, it wasn't a problem at all!
….
Silence.
Was he too shocked?
Or maybe Karami didn't feel the same way? What if I misread everything and just made a scene?
Anxious, Alfia slowly opened her eyes.
“…Huh.”
And found Karami fast asleep, his forehead pressed against the table.
He'd been perfectly fine after drinking several bottles of strong liquor last time, and now he was already passed out? Was he pretending because he didn't want to answer?
Alfia couldn't understand it at all, but this time, Karami hadn't used any items, so it was a natural result.
Karami's alcohol tolerance wasn't very high.
Alfia deflated, feeling a sense of futility.
She considered waking him up and confessing again, but…
‘I'll just do it tomorrow.’
There's still plenty of time.
Besides, she didn't like the idea of saying it while swept up by drunkenness. She would do it again when she was sober.
Alfia watched the soundly sleeping Karami as if he were her beloved lover. She toyed with his bangs with her finger.
The quiet dawn.
After playing with Karami for a while, Alfia also fell asleep. Perhaps because it had been such a pleasant day, topped off with alcohol, her expression was bright, as if she were having a sweet dream.
On the other side.
Karami's prone body stirred.
Karami slowly began to sit up.