Trudviar lightly jumps off from one tree to another. He greets with a nod to various elves who stay on their own trees. Many trees already have stable platforms for the elves to occupy. It is the princess's orders of highest priority to provide these safe areas in anticipation of the monsters of the Dark Forest.
It is a very impressive idea of the princess to decide on this. To Trudviar's eyes, the flaws are easily amenable. Despite that, Trudviar cannot help but be angry. He is becoming more and more irritable lately, and it is proving to be detrimental to his work.
Arriving at the old alchemist, Allenwood's hut, Trudviar didn't even bother with basic etiquette as he pushes the door open. Among the many buildings, it is the second highest priority to provide a safe place for injured elves. This includes his majesty.
The inside is quite spacious. The tree that is the foundation of this place is an ancient Nara, a truly stable tree! Even if a strong monster suddenly arrives, it wouldn't even be able to shake the tree.
"How are they?" Trudviar asks Allenwood who is busy with his potion-making. "Hey, geezer, how are they?" Trudviar repeats realizing that Allenwood is ignoring him. Only now did Allenwood discover Trudviar's presence.
Allenwwod frowns at his lab's daily visitor. Though it is not really a lab, but more of a treatment center, it annoys Allenwood for losing his precious time of potion making. "Like I always said! The elf King is fine, and the others are not… If there is a change, I would surely notify you! If you delay me a second more, we might lose them! Do you understand?"
Trudviar wants to argue back but he reigns control over his temper. "Well, is there something I can do?"
"None," Allenwood returns to his potions, trying to think of a way to remedy and counteract the Berserker Potion. "Just fuck off! I am busy!" Allenwood angrily shoos Trudviar away.
Speaking of anger, Trudviar comes to realize the unnatural bloodlust of his kin. Trudviar can control his with force, but the other elf warrioress is having a hard time. Most often, he sees the other elves mainly the women quarreling over the smallest things. It will even devolve into a fight which is quite difficult to conciliate with.
Except for Varen and him, the other elves who had a taste of the Berserker Potions are becoming more feral and feral by the day. Trudviar's eyes land on the dozen elf warrioress sleeping on the wooden floor. His eyes land particularly on Lafira who has had a very strong fever recently since arriving in the Dark Forest.
Allenwood did say that the frequent 'anger issues' are a side-effect, but it is getting troublesome. It is affecting work. Moreover, it weakens their labor force. The lack of experienced fighters may prove to be harmful to them.
Trudviar is about to leave when suddenly, Lafira stands from where she lies asleep. Her movement is unnatural like a puppet. Trudviar observes Lafira with genuine curiosity. "Hey, Lafira. What are you doing? You should rest more."
Lafira's eyes are red, and her skin is a bit pale. Signs of dehydration are obvious on her skin, and she seems to be hallucinating. The air becomes dreary, and a hint of killing intent seems to escape Lafira's spirit.
Allenwood realizing one of his patients is suddenly standing up looks at Lafira. "What is this?" For some reason, Allenwood is feeling a little bit scared. A trace of nervousness is obvious in his eyes.
Luckily, Trudviar is there.
When Lafira suddenly pounces on Allenwood who is the nearest to her, Trudviar is able to react just in time. He pounces with force as he pushes down Lafira. "Oi! Hey! Calm down!"
Lafira starts biting Trudviar's arm, causing blood to trickle.
Trudviar grits his teeth at the unexpected pain. Lafira's biting force is strangely empowered, allowing her teeth to sink further into Trudviar's flesh. "Hey! Fucking useless geezer! Give me a hand!"
"I am not useless! What the fuck is this?" Allenwood though panicky, didn't commit the mistake of just watching Trudviar's suffering. "Pry her jaw open!" Allenwood forces a sleeping potion on Lafira's mouth with Trudviar's assistance. Like this, Allenwood sedates Lafira.
Not leaving it to chance, Allenwood proceeds to feed the sleeping potion to the other elves excluding his majesty. "Fuck… Is this an imbalance of hormones? No, it must be that period thingy that his majesty talks about…" Unsure of what it really is, Allenwood dives into his memories of his several conversations with the Elf King.
"Will they be fine?" Trudviar worriedly asks Allenwood. Shaking the old alchemist of his stupor and monologues, Trudviar lightly pushes the old elf. "Will they be fine?"
Allenwood seriously looks back at Trudviar. "I don't know. We can only rely on his majesty's wisdom. The art of mysticism doesn't dabble on logic and reason, but only produces results… While alchemy might be the closest thing to the 'sciences' his majesty usually shares me about, and is even on par with the 'logic' of the dwarves' creation, alchemy, in the end, is still supernatural in essence."
"I don't know about mysticism, but…" There is a dangerous light on Trudviar's eyes. "But if you don't fix this. I swear, I will dismember you."
Allenwood maintains a poker face at Trudviar's declaration. "So that's it… This must be a 'mutation' which is a surprise…" Understanding dawns on Allenwood. "Listen to me, Trudviar. You are normally an amiable elf and someone who has a good reign over his patience. You must be feeling it, right? The abnormal bloodthirst, and the temptation of going berserk."
Trudviar regulates his breathing, returning his mind to calmness. "I understand. This is grave news. I must collect the elves. I assume this must be because of the Berserker Potions…"
"It is my fault." Allenwood easily admits to his deficiency.
"No, it is not." But Trudviar quickly and as easily refutes him. "If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be able to exact our revenge. If the King is awake, he would surely feel the same. Your Berserker Potion is a miraculous drug that allowed us elves on this path."
Allenwood shakes his head in remorse. "No, it is not a miraculous drug. It is the 'Aphrodisiac' which is the base of the 'Berserker Potion' that is miraculous."
Trudviar turns his back away, eager to do his duties as the Elf General. "Don't sell yourself too short. I will send Varen here to protect you just in case."
In the Dark Forest, Trudviar's figure flits under the shades of trees as he speeds past the various obstacles in his way. His parkour abilities don't fall short since their attack on the Beyronald Kingdom. He utilizes his abilities to their fullest until finally, he gathers all of his most intimate comrades— the elf warrioress.
Varen is also there and is keenly wary of his surroundings. Trudviar can tell with a glance that Varen should know already the peculiarity of their veteran elf soldiers.
Trudviar claps his hands to get the elves' attention. "From now on, we shall halt patrolling the perimeter of our designated territory. We will leave the patrols to our new recruits—" Before he can even finish his words, the elves watching him abruptly explode with emotion.
"What the fu—"
"General, do you have a problem with us!?"
"Fuuuck, this is discrimination!"
"We should just clean off the forest!"
"Yeah! This is good traini—"
"Shit, you bitches, listen to hi—"
"Who is that!? Want me to fu—"
Trudviar realizes it is a lot worse than he thought. "ATTENTION! FROM NOW ON, WE WILL BE CONDUCTING STRICT TRAINING! YOU FUCKERS BETTER DON'T FALL BEHIND!" Trudviar decides to fuck it, and just be done with it.
The elves fall to complete silence maybe thanks to Trudviar's prestige. "Varen, go to Allenwood, he needs help. He will explain it to you…"
Varen nods at Trudviar's words and sets off to Allenwood's place.
However, the other elves didn't take it well on this.
"What the fu—"
"That's special treatment!"
"Yeah, bros for life my ass!"
"You misogynistic bastard!
Ah, fuck— the emotion of self-contempt embeds itself in Trudviar's heart. He realizes and finally admits to it that Allenwood is really at fault and is definitely a useless bastard.
Under the guise of training, the elf warrioress gangs up on Trudviar. Day by day, Trudviar endures the veteran elves' torturous yelling, ambushing, and scolding. As General, Trudviar of course didn't yield to them. It is rather a funny scene, but the danger of the situation is real. Trudviar is losing count of the many near-death situations coming from confronting his elf sisters.
If not for his dormant and constantly mutating physique, and his mastery over the sword, he will be long dead already. Another feat supplements itself to the Swordsaint's great tale— to take over a double a dozen of elf women— though it sounds wrong in many ways, it is the real deal.
Finally, the elf warrioress' bloodthirst subsides. It has been almost a month since then. But that is not where the good news end.
On the next day, the beginning of the next month, another good news graces them.
"There is a cure! We can save his majesty!"