Into the Great Forest
Narn's confident words were no empty boast. Leaving Jamingwood behind, as they crossed the plains and entered the hilly terrain, he guided the group flawlessly to game-rich spots and water sources—even outside his tribe's territory—ensuring they never went hungry.
Over the week, they encountered three orc tribes, and each reacted just as Narn had predicted: the Blue Lion tribe on the plains, the Red Lizard tribe in the hills, and now...
"...Friend of the Red Boar tribe, go."
Even the orc warriors of the Direwolf tribe, mounted on massive white direwolves, simply let them pass. But then—
"Arf!"
"Woof."
The enormous direwolves, standing 1.5 to 2 meters at the shoulder, began backing away the moment they tried to pass Wolrang—as if clearing a wider path, like vassals yielding the way to their king.
"Grrraaah!"
"Rrgh, calm down, you beasts...!"
The orc warriors panicked, soothing their mounts. Some drew weapons with hostile glares, but an orc who seemed to be their leader raised a hand, halting the rash actions.
His scarred eye gleaming, he addressed Tiny. "I knew something was off about you. A spirit beast?"
"That's right."
"I've heard tales of a knight who rode a wolf spirit to fend off disaster in human lands recently. Are you that little human?"
'Little...?'
Tiny had no plans to grow as massive as in his previous life, but the word still irked him for some reason.
"And if I am?"
He was ready to smash the orc if this turned into a challenge. But—
"...I'm envious. A brother you've lived with long enough to become a spirit."
"Arf!"
The orc warrior stroked his direwolf's scruff, a bitter expression crossing his face. Now that Tiny looked closer, the beast did seem a bit smaller. He'd chalked it up to the orc's own modest stature for a warrior—barely scraping 190 cm—but...
'...The wolf's frame is frail.'
An aged wolf. Seeing it reminded Tiny of his old comrade Zerik's words.
—Orcs receive a soul brother, their tribe's symbol, upon being recognized as warriors.
—Some find a new one if theirs dies, but many can't. Even I...
Zerik, a Great Warrior unbound by low, mid, or high ranks among orcs—humans called him a Warlord—was always bold and boisterous. But he'd looked uncharacteristically sorrowful saying that.
'Come to think of it, Zerik was from the Direwolf tribe.'
Of course, Zerik was at the orc holy city of Bator now, but the reminder made Tiny hesitate to speak rashly. Then—
"Sniff."
"Hm?"
Wolrang suddenly veered off, digging furiously near some glowing blue grass by the forest path.
Moments later.
"Grrr."
Wolrang yanked up the blue grass roots and all, trotted over, and dropped it at the direwolf's feet—or rather, at the orc warrior's mount. An action whose meaning was obvious, yet utterly absurd.
"...Feeding a wolf grass? Not even fruit?"
"Arf!"
"...Seems like it."
"Karan? It's just a bitter herb to us. Could that be the secret to your wolf becoming a spirit?"
Tiny had no idea. But—
"Sniff!"
The sensation from Wolrang was affirmative. Of course—
"...It just extends a wolf's lifespan a bit. You'd need to feed it consistently."
Only regarding its effects. But that simple explanation lit up the orc warrior's face.
"Knowledge from a spirit wolf! Grass that lengthens our brothers' lives!!"
His ecstatic shout widened the eyes of the orcs behind him.
"Thank you! Truly, thank you, little human! The Direwolf tribe will never forget this grace!"
'Keeps emphasizing 'little'...'
Even if not like his past life, Tiny figured he could grow bigger than this guy. Pouting inwardly, he watched the orc bow repeatedly, oblivious.
"I'm Bold, one of the Direwolf tribe's chieftain candidates. If you ever need aid, come find me. I stake my honor on it!"
Staking honor on unproven info—an oath showcasing orc simplicity, or Bold's in particular.
'Not that I mind.'
A smile tugged at Tiny's lips.
"I'll remember you, Bold of the Direwolf tribe. But we're in a hurry now—until next time."
"Agreed. I'll wait, little human."
...Again. Tiny snorted at the mere(?) 20 cm height difference, but their encounter with the Direwolf warriors ended on a positive note.
Three days later, the group faced a vast forest of towering trees, dozens of meters tall.
"...The Great Forest. We made it here in just two weeks. Well done, Sir Tiny."
Tiny skipped mentioning he'd have done it in half the time solo, as Garen swallowed nervously beside him.
"This is where I leave you, humans. Good luck to the Red Boar tribe's friends."
"Thanks for your help, Narn."
"Great job, Patrol Captain Narn."
But Narn, who seemed ready to turn back, hesitated, lips twitching. Tiny raised a brow.
"Any chance that herb helps Red Boars' lifespans too? I'd repay the favor!"
Blushing furiously, eyes squeezed shut, Narn blurted it out like a machine gun. Why so embarrassed over that? Tiny wondered.
'Now that I think about it, he's been quiet the whole trip. I figured it was just his personality—only speaking when necessary.'
Maybe shyness? The fierce orc warrior's unexpected side drew an unwitting chuckle from Tiny.
"Does that karan grass work on Red Boars...?"
"...Sadly, no clue. It's not even my knowledge—the karan grass was new to me too."
Tiny patted Wolrang, who sniffed and turned away. Narn's flushed face drained instantly.
"R-right. My greed. Got it."
Shoulders slumping, he turned to leave.
'Fun guy.'
In their ten days together, Tiny had seen only steadfast orc warrior in Narn—until now.
But with Elvenheim urgent, he couldn't help even if he wanted to.
'Uncertain, but end of this year or early next... Soonest two or three months, latest half a year.'
Far too short to earn the 'slow' elves' trust and prepare for disaster. Only Garen's elf hair strand to rely on.
So for now—
"...If I find out, I'll let you know. But don't count on it."
"I know."
"Good luck to you too."
Watching Narn sigh off his regret and depart fully, Tiny turned back to the dense forest.
'Great Forest, been a while.'
Last refuge of elves and ancient beasts—a hellhole overrun by monsters for ordinary folk. And—
'The continent's shield against Ma-yeok's corruption.'
Beyond the vast woods lay Ma-yeok, mana-corrupted land hostile to life. Monster homeland, scar of the ancient Demon King War.
That's why the Great Forest was the continent's shield, its elf guardians the watchmen.
'Gotta visit Ma-yeok someday.'
The Great Labyrinth lurked deepest there—a must for finding 'Nocturne.' But now—
"...Not the time to worry about that."
Heading there now meant certain death. Finding Nocturne required at least Aura User strength regained.
"Hm? What was that, Sir Tiny?"
"Nothing. Let's go."
Elvenheim lay at the Great Forest's heart. Elves carved minimal paths for trade, but even safely traversing took a week usually.
"So we'll aim to cross in three days..."
"That'd kill Sandra. We've already pushed her hard getting here."
"Sigh... Five days then?"
"...I'll manage somehow. But why the rush?"
Garen's cautious tone was understandable. Tiny's feats were imperial-recognized; Valentia leaders viewed him uniquely.
Post-imperial incident—
—Focus the house's resources on aiding Tiny's goals. Even if it endangers us.
Duke Eschard von Valentia declared it before inner circle. They guessed he shared secrets with the Sword Emperor and Tiny, but—
—Don't ask. It's for humanity.
The Sword Emperor's words nipped curiosity.
'Gotta follow.'
Garen steeled himself, thinking of his busy lord quelling capital chaos. Duke Valentia was nobility's pinnacle—upholding duty to people and crown flawlessly.
If even he kept secrets, there was reason. Garen just had to execute orders with all he had—be it force or connections.
But—
"Knowing the goal would help me perform better."
Reasonable question, he thought. Tiny's reply was odd.
"I don't know exactly either."
"What!? Then why rush!?"
"But I do know an elven holy relic vanishes, and the World Tree burns."
"What!!?"
Garen's eyes bulged, yelling unwittingly. Beyond that, World Tree destruction meant Great Forest corruption by Ma-yeok. Meaning...
World-ending doom inevitable. His face paled at the thought. Unacceptable as knight, as continent-dweller.
"Hurry, Sir Tiny!"
Ignoring Tiny's bemused look, Garen mounted hastily.
"Sorry, Sandra. Bear with a bit more."
Neigh!
From then, Garen tuned wind mana with full focus for mana sprint. The famed Purtoz breed from imperial north obeyed loyally.
"Ha..."
No harm in a fired-up comrade. Tiny chuckled lightly, then chased on Wolrang.
Whoosh.
Feeling the chill wind, he mulled his words. Elvenheim differed from Carun or imperial disasters.
'...Rushing to avert something without dates or details—dunno if it'll matter.'
Carun: rough date and event.
Imperial: date at least.
Elvenheim: only outcome known.
'Should've pried more.'
Regretted ignoring it as past event in prior life.
Best bet—
'Convince Estina. She'd sense foul omens.'
Problem: not easy like with Weapon Master. Her World Tree guardian role since 100+ years ago was common high-noble knowledge. No secrets, as she hid nothing.
'No ties to Sword Emperor or Weapon Master yet.'
Among comrades, only he matched her level then and now—future tactics useless for persuasion.
'Only...'
His moniker, Light Knight from thwarting two disasters. Hoped it lent credibility.
'It'll work. It has to!'
If successful, leave Elvenheim to her, head to Tertius in southern mountains. Dwarf events timing unknown too.
And maybe—
'If I convince her well, learn 'that technique'... If it's not just natural spirit user growth.'
Another growth path for his current self. Thinking positively, Tiny followed Garen meekly.
Half-day later.
"S-sorry, Sir Tiny. Can't push Sandra more. Needs rest."
Garen halted, biting his lip with haggard face. They camped by the main forest path.
"Truly sorry..."
"It's fine. Only natural."
Tiny smiled, consoling the middle-aged knight. Holding mana sprint over six hours was impossible for most knights, realm aside. Plus fighting monsters en route—impressive feat.
"We're in elf patrol or hunter range now, so easing pace was wise anyway. Better than blind sprinting into arrows."
As if jinxed—
Screeech.
Thunk. Flutter.
An arrow sliced darkening sky, embedding by the campfire.
"Elves!?"
They jumped up startled; a short shadow burst from nearby brush.
"Eeeek! Too much! H-hey! Humans, save me!"
—Groooar!
Chased by massive tree monsters. Not an elf—a 'dwarf.'