Proof (1)
In the end, Tiny's proposal worked. While Estina's great spirit, Kairum, headed to Elvenheim, he and the three Elven Knights would all be under watch. Of course, this was only possible because they'd just shattered the monster horde with a Spirit Wave, leading to the judgment that there wouldn't be any large-scale assaults for the time being.
And besides...
"...It'll only take a day."
In truth, that was even on the generous side. More than half of that time would be for her to recover the mana needed to materialize Kairum, meaning the actual trip to Elvenheim would only take one or two hours. During that span, she'd link her mind to Kairum, listen to the Elder Council's words, and reverse-summon him right away.
Maintaining a summon that far away is the real impressive part.
Tiny had brushed it off before as just how spirit arts worked, but now it hit him anew. As he inwardly marveled at Estina's abilities,
"...And don't throw around words like 'precious' so lightly. Elves only say that to lifelong companions."
Estina, her face inexplicably flushed, turned and walked away without another word.
"...Did I say something like that?"
Tiny was a bit baffled, but with things going smoothly, he had no intention of picking a fight.
"Kyaooo!"
"Krrrng."
"Krraaaw!"
As night fell once more at the border between Ma-yeok and the Great Forest, monsters began pouring out from the black desert beyond again.
The Elven Knights responded in kind, each unleashing their prowess.
"♬♪!"
"♬♪♪!!"
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Gigantic treants charged toward the black desert, slamming into the monsters with their massive bodies. Rare as they were, the spirits inherited from ancient times were concentrated among the Elven Knights, the elves' elite. This unit alone, with Estina present, had over a hundred.
These tree spirits—sometimes mistakenly called the "Ent tribe" by nearby humans and orcs living close to the Great Forest—formed the defensive line.
At the same time, a massive flame erupted from one Elven Knight's hand without any incantation, shooting dozens of meters into the air.
Kwaaakwaaakwa.
The blaze coalesced as if alive with will, flying through the air and incinerating surrounding monsters.
"Kyaaak!"
"Kyaooo!"
It didn't stop at one or two; it darted side to side like a living thing, striking foes in succession.
Beside that elf, a massive whirlwind of stone blades flew from another, slicing monster necks or hurling them bodily away.
Next to them, a giant formed of blue water rampaged, smashing monsters apart.
Sweat beaded on the elves' foreheads as they controlled them, but compared to standard magic, the freedom of destruction was unbelievable.
This was the elves' innate ability, passed down through bloodlines—what was called sorcerer magic.
Typically limited to one attribute, but within that domain, they wielded it with freedom rivaling a mage.
And in front of them, arrows loosed by the Elven Knights flew ceaselessly, each infused with varied attributes and mana, piercing monster vitals precisely.
Treants at the vanguard, backed by sorcerer spells and arrows—this was the elves' signature tactic, one Tiny hadn't seen in ages.
But he couldn't fully savor it; the surrounding gazes weren't friendly.
"Wouldn't it be better to fight out there instead of watching me like this?"
"Estina-nim swept the horde, so the monster wave is weaker now. No need for pointless worries."
One of the encircling elves cut off Tiny's question curtly. He had no retort.
Still, I can't just be dead weight.
Tiny sighed deeply and summoned Wolrang.
"Krrrng."
"You...!"
The elves around him raised bows and swords a beat too late.
"Awoooo!"
In that gap, Wolrang leaped over the encirclement(?) and charged the oncoming monsters.
"I'll stay here and help with my spirit only. That okay?"
The elves, speechless at Tiny's calm reply, kept wary eyes on him while glancing forward.
Spirits were more than rare—they were gifts from the world. Even among Elven Knights, only some had them, and animal spirits were an extreme minority.
Soon, they gawked at the silver wolf's rampage.
"Kraaaang!"
Wolrang's max size was about 2.5 meters at the shoulder and 5 meters long—a top-tier build even compared to direwolves, dubbed monster wolves.
But among beast spirits, it wasn't huge. Predatory beasts naturally grew larger upon handling mana. The increased muscle and destructive power aided survival, and mana mitigated the feeding issues that came with it.
Like me in my past life.
Tiny smiled wryly at the thought—meaning he'd wielded mana like a beast back then.
Of course, when spirits materialized from deceased spirit beasts, their size and power varied by the spirit user's level.
Tiny's current spirit arts were at a mere third stage. Wolrang's size was slightly smaller than in his past life.
Its power should have been lacking too—but.
Kwadududuk.
"Kruk?"
Wolrang snapped the neck of a troll charging with a massive club in one bite.
Pwaaak!
"Kku...!"
Then, mid-stride, a forepaw pulverized the head of a charging black horned boar, before body-slamming an owl bear—a creature with an owl head and bear body.
Thud.
"Kyaaak!"
The owl head thrashed irritably, spewing a black beam laced with intense mana.
Kwang.
Wolrang took it head-on and lunged, ripping the head off.
A fourth-stage owl bear slain instantly by a third-stage spirit.
Unstoppable momentum.
"Awoooo!"
Wolrang stood atop the headless corpse, howling at the night sky again.
Smashing these repulsive fiends revived his primal instincts from life.
His current smaller size felt a bit confining, but inheriting his contractor's traits, his denser, tougher body already surpassed his living strength.
The mana drain for materialization barely registered.
And now, rampaging alone—no need to shrink for his contractor.
"Kraaaang!"
Wolrang massacred the surging monsters overwhelmingly, soon facing a headless knight—a fifth-stage dullahan.
Kwaaaang!
Once a brave warrior exploring Ma-yeok, perhaps, but now a humanoid monster spewing curses from the head tucked in its left side, swinging a greatsword with its right—no trace of its former soul.
Wolrang ignored any backstory, shrugging off clinging curses to parry the blade and target the body.
Kwakwakwang.
"Kraaang!"
"Krraa!!!"
Kwang!
Only as lower monsters fled the brutal clash did the Elven Knights' main camp notice Wolrang's exploits.
"That spirit is that human's...?"
Estina, resting today due to yesterday's injury, spotted the silver wolf. Ramuel beside her picked up.
"Seems so. Far stronger than expected."
Ramuel guarded Estina just in case, but she was busy loosing mana arrows that exploded monster heads.
Chatting amid split focus showcased her rabbit spirit Tori's "multi-vision, multi-sense" at 100%—perfect for Estina's aide.
Of course, it was routine for them, so Estina nodded calmly.
"Yeah. A Blader-level warrior and third-stage spirit user, yet both his prowess and spirit's power defy common sense."
An eighth-stage superhuman, Aura Exceeder, and seventh-stage spirit user, Estina had gauged Tiny's level at first sight. Beyond that,
His frame's underdeveloped for his build. Still growing—human at that stage would be 15 or 16?
She'd even estimated his physical growth, making the scene feel even more alien.
"That age with that level is already impossible, but his combat power exceeds it? How...?"
"A spy from somewhere, after all?"
"But the spirit doesn't fit."
"Humans have been quiet for a century now. Time for tricks."
Ramuel had a point. Elves believed all their kin good—not entirely wrong, but the essence differed.
We suppress instincts with reason, follow rules, avoid sin. Our race's greatest strength—and flaw.
People judge others by themselves. Elves venturing from Elvenheim often got burned assuming other races acted rationally.
Thus, leaders were trained to suspect outsiders, or learned as World Tree attendants clashing with the world—orcs' impulsive emotions, humans' two-faced schemes.
Humans often left deeper scars, so most attendants distrusted them.
But.
"If so, they'd incite the orcs, not come here."
Estina's counter was valid—that was humans' go-to for stirring Elvenheim.
Ramuel added quickly.
"Heard rumors of odd orc vibes lately."
"Rumors or intel?"
"...Rumors."
Estina smirked.
"Then no need for a human to come here plotting. They'd go straight to the orcs."
Ramuel pouted silently.
Estina sighed lightly, patting her aide's shoulder.
"I know you hate humans. But judge objectively."
Normally, Ramuel would nod, but.
"But Estina-nim, he called our comrades demon worshippers. Forgot that? If true..."
"...It'd be tragic."
"Estina-nim!"
Ting.
Ramuel's shout made her arrow miss.
Estina clicked her tongue.
"Arrow veered, Ramuel. Focus elsewhere."
"That's not the point! I know you're soft on humans, but now you trust one over comrades!?"
Ramuel spun, yelling indignantly.
Estina gave a wry, clouded smile.
"I'd prefer that. If it was human delusion."
Her gaze shifted to the watched Tiny.
A talent that'd shine in any race. Her superior senses and level confirmed his value.
Anyone with eyes would covet him. Would such a gem come here just to lie? Knowing death lurked if wrong?
Beyond racial distrust, pure realism weighted his words heavier.
And.
"...Ileine had an unfortunate past. Uriel, attacked by him, carries pain too."
"Estina-nim!"
"Not all our elves are immune to demons. You know why we guard the Great Forest and block Ma-yeok, Ramuel."
Ramuel's face darkened mid-yell.
"Over half our race fell to the demon realm—our sin created it. This black desert, Ma-yeok, ties to our original sin. You know."
How could she not? Every elf learned it.
"...Dark elves."
"Yes. They were kin, recorded as those who suffered before we united in Elvenheim, then fell to demons."
"..."
"His words brought that to mind instantly. I'd love if false, but..."
Ramuel fell silent. Estina gazed heavily at Tiny again.
He's probably right.
In her eyes, amid suspicion, Tiny poured everything into slaying monsters with his spirit.
A stance born of self-assurance.
Under the dark sky, the black-haired human shone uniquely for that reason.
That moment—
"Huh!?"
As if denying her thoughts, the silver wolf spirit blocking the dullahan bared fangs and charged toward their lines.