Elf (2)
The Shadow Mercenary Corps. Their strength only became widely known after the cataclysm. In the past, people could only speculate about the Shadow Mercenaries' reputation from rumors. But now, they could witness their abilities in the real world firsthand.
Among them, Rackid was a celebrity.
"Why, didn't one guy faint just yesterday?"
In the Yusra Kingdom, Rackid's drunken antics at the Golden Calf Tavern had become a local legend. Every now and then, some busybody player or self-righteous do-gooder would pick a fight with him—and pay the price dearly.
"Something about his eardrums bursting?"
To knock out a player well over Lv.300 with nothing but a shout! The rumors about Rackid never stopped there. After all, he thrived on the spotlight.
Rackid's combat footage was easy to find online.
The media's attention on Rackid was inevitable. And he soaked it up like a sponge.
Rackid boasted proudly about his past in front of the cameras.
They were ridiculous nicknames, even after all this time. But Rackid didn't mind one bit. Finally, his strength was spreading far and wide.
But then.
Boom boom boom boom—crash!
"What the fuck?!"
Something unbelievable unfolded.
Scraaaape! Sparks flew. Rackid barely blocked the sword strike with his twin axes raised high. Even so, the shock rippled through him.
Crunch! The ground beneath his feet crumpled, and his massive body was shoved back several paces.
Rackid's lips twisted into a grin.
"Elf, whatever you are, you're a rude fucking bastard, huh?"
To come at him swinging out of nowhere. Good thing he hadn't gotten properly drunk yet... or he might've been in real danger.
Clink— Rackid hoisted his axes and locked eyes with the intruder. Even up close, that gaze felt alien. He'd seen countless eyes on the battlefield, in duels to the death. But this? This was new.
For comparison... maybe like Captain Kichi, radiating raw killing intent? '...Is that even killing intent?'
Unlike her, there was no malice from this guy. It was like he didn't even need to waste hostility on a bug. Pure disdain.
"That pretty-boy mug of yours rubs me the wrong way from the start."
Fights were strictly forbidden. Sorry to disappoint the captain after all her warnings, but promises were made to be broken. Dodging a thrown gauntlet? Not in Great Rackid's dictionary.
Crunch! Rackid's muscles contracted in an instant.
Boom! He kicked off the ground and lunged.
He'd learned from the first clash. No need to hold back against this elf prick.
His axes loomed over the elf's head. Their eyes met again. Still that arrogant glare.
'Let's see how far that cockiness goes!'
Rackid roared.
"I am Rackid! The man who'll take your head!!"
The lowliest in the Shadow Mercenaries? Hardly. When it came to raw destructive power from sheer muscle, even Rackid ranked top in the corps.
Yet as that strike bore down, the elf didn't flinch.
"Pitiful."
That was all he said. Pitiful? What bullshit was this guy spouting? If he thought nonsense like that would shake Rackid's mind...
'Dream on!'
Swooooosh! Rackid gritted his teeth and swung down.
In that moment, the elf's sword moved lazily. Block a blow no average spell could stop—with just one blade?
'Cocky bastard.'
BOOM!!!
The massive axes met sword. Tremble tremble— But it was Rackid's body that buckled.
...Blocked? My strike? By a single sword?
He couldn't believe his eyes, even watching it happen.
Rackid muttered unconsciously.
"...How, with a sword not even coated in sword aura?"
That arrogant gaze fixed on him again.
"This is the difference of birth."
"...Difference of birth?"
"The blessed and the unblessed."
That 'blessed' crap again. Getting his attack blocked was bad enough. But this guy wasn't even taking the fight seriously.
Rackid's pride couldn't stand it. As he gathered his strength once more—
"Well, that's old news now."
"...?"
"Which means no time to waste on vermin."
Where'd he go? Rackid hadn't let his guard down for a second, yet the elf vanished from sight. Fast—beyond fast. Was that even a living thing's movement?
'On another level.'
The words flashed in Rackid's mind.
—"This is the difference of birth."
That's what he meant? Because he's an elf, not human, he could wield that frail body with monstrous strength and superhuman speed?
Rackid ground his teeth.
"The world's so fucking unfair haha...!"
Stab!
"Guhk!"
The blade pierced his chest. Battle-honed instincts kicked in first, twisting just enough to spare his heart. Barely.
Hack! Blood surged up his throat.
"...Crazy fuck. You meant that bullshit."
Now he knew for sure. This elf's strikes held no thrill of taking life, no torment, not even awareness. Just squashing a bug—aimed straight at his heart.
Instinct screamed.
'Monster.'
Elves. They were the real monsters.
Rackid forced his collapsing body upright. His mind raced through dozens of scenarios. Damn, not one ended in victory. All defeats, fucking hell.
"Sorry 'bout this, Captain."
He tallied his debts in his head. Just the tavern tabs alone outstripped his cut from jobs... She'd have to hustle in the holy war to cover for him.
That thought snapped his eyes fierce. Sudden, sure—but dying in battle with a worthy foe? Exactly the end he'd always craved.
And if possible...
"Leave a scar that'll last that bastard's lifetime."
Captain or Wolf might've earned such a vow. Never dreamed it'd be from some big-eared freak. If he'd pulled an axe...
He'd leave a nice gash.
"Raaaaagh!!"
With a shout, he summoned his power. Blood poured from mouth and chest, but Rackid ignored it.
"Here I come. I'll carve a scar you can't erase, you unlucky prick."
If this was his last breath, he'd burn bright and brief!
...
Players watched the battlefield.
"Yeah, now that's the smell of battle!"
A battlefield with quests and loot? And facing elves from legend? Players swarmed naturally.
But it deviated from expectations right away.
From Lv.500 minimum to Lv.900 maximum. The moment players spotted them on the field, they freaked.
Beyond 'big.' Enormous. Absurdly enormous.
"N-No way! What monster's that huge?!"
The biggest towered dozens of meters. Even the 'young' ones matched a three-story building. And there were too many.
Good thing the battlefield spawned in an open plain. If it'd been downtown...
"Horrifying. For real."
Overwhelmed by the demonic horde briefly, players scanned around. To match numbers, there had to be elf hordes too, right?
But only one elf in sight.
"No way, that's it?"
One elf against a massive demon army. Even the eager frontrunners hesitated.
"What do we do?"
With the [Unending Holy War] quest active, no player would side with demons, loot or not.
One choice: Join the elf.
"...But will we even make a difference?"
Charging a hopeless field? Natural to waver.
But it was baseless worry.
Shing—
"Huh, what?"
Long golden hair trailed.
Flash—
"Wait a sec."
Leaving golden afterimages, the elf plunged into the demons.
Stab—
"...Huh?"
And the battle ended.
No illusion. A message appeared before players' eyes.
‘Battlefield: Pain-Eating Mountain Beasts vs Elf’ has ended.
Recorded in video too, yet unbelievable. How did one elf dive into hordes of Lv.900 demons and win?
As everyone reeled, a few players exchanged glances.
"...We could build rapport, right?"
"Freshly summoned to reality."
"They even guided us kindly...!"
Elves: Stronger than imagined. Slaughtering Lv.900 demons with casual sword swings. Friendship could pay off.
As players moved toward the elf—
"!"
They met an extraordinary gaze. The elf's cold stare fixed on them. No different from how he'd eyed the demons.
The pressure froze everyone. Except one: Rackid.
"Do you know where our blessing resides?"
"...Blessing? What bullshit is this?"
"Foolishly ignorant of blessings, it seems."
To mouth off under that pressure? True Shadow Mercenary grit.
But admiration faded fast.
Boom! The elf charged Rackid.
"Knew it wasn't my imagination!"
"That guy's totally psycho!"
"H-He really means to kill us?!"
Onlookers gulped. Who'd ever cheer for Rackid?
But two clashes later—
"Guhk!"
The elf's sword pierced Rackid's chest. Blood sprayed.
"...Fuck, we just watching?"
"Shouldn't we stop it?"
"Looks like a misunderstanding?"
Elf: Unknown existence. Unknown strength. Fear of the unknown paralyzed them.
Craaaack! Rackid's movements slowed amid the roar. Blood pooled.
Everyone sensed it.
"H-He'll actually die!"
If Rackid fell, next? No guarantee the blade spared them. Especially since the elf had no reason to.
Their talk? Just...
"Blessing or whatever—that's all he asked?"
Ignorance of 'blessing' was mutual. Flee? Or join Rackid now?
As panicked players hesitated—
"...Fucking strong bastard."
Thud! Blood-soaked Rackid collapsed.
No more care for his fading life? The elf's gaze shifted. From Rackid to the players.
Someone mustered courage.
"Too late to run. And if we bail now...!"
That blade turns to reporters, civilians. Back then, he'd have bolted without thinking. But that damn quest nagged.
[Unending Holy War]
📍 Prove your worth in this region. (Success)
Pride or whatever. His body rejected fleeing from a psycho elf.
Not everyone agreed.
"I-I’m out! How do you stop a monster like that?!"
"...I'll join. Might help, might not."
"No wonder the donations poured in! Fuck, bros—I'm going first!"
In the chaos, the elf stepped forward. Sword gripped tight. Arrogant gaze fixed.
Approaching the players.
"...!!!"
...Or tried to.
Hummm— Mana rippled in the air. High magic: Portal.
A voice echoed from the surging mana.
Click—
Unknown existence. Unknown terror.
Yet that ever-proud voice rang out.
"Halt."
Just words. Yet the unbelievable happened.
"...?"
Halt. The elf obeyed instantly.
"...!"
Doubt flickered across the elf's unchanging face for the first time.
...
[Elf, Hierarchy of Blessings activates toward Elcidoir.]