Chapter 39
Chapter 39
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 39
Chapter Title: The Elf and the Coffee Farm (16)
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"Stubborn in all sorts of ways."
Kiss muttered, growing tired of watching the same scene repeat itself over and over. Not just her, but elves as a race—especially the notoriously ill-tempered nomadic elves and the World Tree guardians—tended to be extremely wary of outside help.
The former relied on plundering for more than half their livelihood, so they had plenty of enemies. The latter had a justification for minimizing interference, since mishandling the World Tree could trigger a continental-scale disaster. It wasn't all that strange.
But that didn't make it any less pathetic to see a group of elves, all over 300 years old on average, charging at a single human one after another out of sheer competitive spirit.
As the chief of her tribe, she had permitted Julius to accompany them because she had to kill that damned demon regardless. But these fools, lacking even that sense of duty, huffed and puffed about not acknowledging him and kept picking fights, only to get beaten fairly and squarely.
What was she supposed to do about them? They'd avoided fighting her and Julius out of concern for weakening their forces, but now the idiots who were supposed to handle the numbers were getting themselves wrecked. Irritation welled up inside her.
Ah. Just now, a female elf who ranked around third in magic skill across the entire tribe had let him get too close, her casting interrupted as she went flying.
Seeing one of their key fighters on the verge of injury after pulling such a boneheaded move, what reaction was she supposed to have?
"Damn bald bastard."
"Guh."
A flat-of-the-blade strike could easily cripple or kill if mistimed, but this felt more like a shove than a slash or smack— no visible injuries showed.
Her only wound was probably the scratch to her pride after being so effortlessly overpowered.
"Hey. Mike. Get up. Let's hear your thoughts first."
"...Why do humans occasionally produce monsters like this?"
As she said, humans had low average combat prowess and short lifespans, making them seem weak compared to long-lived races like elves. Yet the freaks that popped up now and then were unreasonably strong.
Elves could live up to a thousand years, slowly honing swordsmanship or magic over decades if they wanted. With spare time, they could even dabble in metallurgy or alchemy.
A 300-year-old elf naturally had more experience and skill than a 30-year-old human.
The problem was the occasional human prodigies who burst onto the scene. Whether a racial trait or not, they shattered species limits with freakish talent and willpower that made you question their sanity.
Mike, a fairly talented mage even by Spiegel standards, seemed to be questioning her 250 years as an elf.
"You get why I brought you along, right?"
"He'd be way more helpful than trash like me..."
"Quit the self-pity. He said he can't handle it alone. You're the backbone of rear support."
"...For real? He looks like he could beat them all by himself."
"According to him, the matchup's bad."
According to Julius, the guy nicknamed the Slayer didn't die even if decapitated and regenerated as long as blood was nearby.
His minions would rush over and commit ritual suicide if he fell, and there was no easy way to stop that blood supply.
Julius, forced into close quarters, needed rear support to block regeneration or handle minions. He gave a wry smile as he explained.
Hard to predict since they'd just met, but probably someone used to cover the rear before—someone who could stop the Slayer's regen.
"Alright. No one seems eager to pile on now that you're down, so let's prep to move out."
"No welcome party?"
"Where would we find the time? We need to reclaim the Imir southern pastures first, you idiot, before we can even think of feeding them."
She couldn't waste the supplies she'd barely pried from Eli. Kiss kicked the butt of Mike, who lay sprawled crying quietly, to rouse her, then bellowed.
"Hey, you lot! Satisfied? Gather up and prep to depart!"
The fight had ground to a lull, so at Kiss's shout, the elves began moving to their assigned tasks.
Not many approached Julius yet—still awkward—but a few, drawn by his skill and looks, started chatting him up.
Truth be told, in terms of appearance, Julius fit the elven ideal perfectly. Legend had it the World Tree's incarnation was a beautiful androgynous being with golden hair and blue eyes, descending in times of peril.
Whether true or just enduring myth, elves, fairies, and spirits alike favored golden hair.
Mina Elcart, who gave Julius the bracelet, was blonde too—one of the World Tree guardians.
Her reason for sending him to the elves with the bracelet probably wasn't much different.
And if he headed all the way south to the World Tree, fairies itching to play with his hair would swarm him.
"Hey, hey. Move aside. Uh, sorry. The vibe here's anti-outsiders. Not that they hate you or anything—they won't keep hounding you."
"No, it's fine. I got to check everyone's skills too."
"Good to hear."
She smacked the butts of the idiots slyly fawning over him due to skill and looks, shooing them off, then chatted with Julius, who seemed at loose ends.
If they didn't like her monopolizing him, they could try forcing her out.
"So, how's their skill? Reliable enough for the rear?"
"Bit hesitant to self-evaluate, but personally, yeah. They mostly went one-on-one, so I didn't see it directly, but they can coordinate and do mounted combat, right?"
"Yep. That's closer to our true strength anyway."
"Then it should work fine. Next issue: minimizing damage while we take them down."
"I've thought about it. We've clashed a few times, so I know their style roughly."
Their biggest issue was slowness. They clustered at the center to guard the altar.
We rode horses—fast, free to engage or withdraw without attachments.
"Harass the outskirts guerrilla-style, thinning minions slowly. You duel the Slayer at the center. Keep him separated from minions to block regen—you and ranged support finish him."
"Simple summary, but yeah, that seems best."
"Won't be hard for us. Problem's you, facing one-vs-many right in their heart at the altar."
"If I couldn't handle that, I wouldn't have come... But we need signals. Got anything for short-range comms?"
He had a point. Diving into enemy lines with a small elite team required faith in precise support timing.
Kiss pondered. Not a communicator per se, but something that allowed it existed.
Problem: it was essentially the same type as what Mina gave him—girly for a guy.
"Th-this."
"Earrings, huh."
"Yeah. Share a pair, and you can talk. But this is for my man."
"Can't even borrow it briefly?"
"Wh-what if he asks later if someone else used it besides him?!"
She led a tribe of plundering elves scraping by, but her wait for destined love was sincere.
Julius hesitated, face full of unspoken words, then spoke up.
"L-love's reality, you know. Get tangled with the wrong one, and you're miserable for years. Hope's fine; romance is pushing it."
"...What? Got some experience?"
"Yeah. Here and there."
He averted his eyes, voice quieter than usual, as if some circumstances made it hard to say.
"Dating or engagements mean lots of time together. Guards down. Then the ugly bottom crawls up—weird stuff erupts. Chatting over coffee turns into all-day money talk, casual trash-talk of friends, mocking others, or dredging up tragic pasts for personal attacks during fights."
"...Spare me the realistic examples."
"Hey, it's just far-off tales. No need to dwell."
It felt too real for "far-off tales," leaving Kiss deeply unsettled. Was that it? Best to think romantic love would be nice if it happened.
Feeling oddly deflated, she handed over the earrings for the battle ahead, then headed to her tent to pack.
The decisive fight loomed, yet her spirits were zilch.