Seth ORLETH
"This thing is really heavy!" I thought.
My shoulders hurt, but I tried not to fall behind my fellow porters. We were carrying bags full of mana stones. The master had assigned us this task, and we were excited to be useful to him. If we managed to transport all this to the village, then we might get to go hunting with the master.
"I didn't know they'd be this heavy," I grumbled.
"Hey... Seth, move forward, or I'll step on you," mocked Saroth, one of my comrades.
"Don't you see I'm already doing that?" I replied, slightly annoyed. These guys always teased me because of my frail physique. For an ogre-human, I'm quite strong, but compared to these bastards, I was considered weak. They didn't even bother calling me anything other than whatever insult came to mind.
"Seriously, I don't know why the master chose you to accompany us, as weak as you are," Saroth whispered, just loud enough for me to hear.
"Hey, you dare question the master's decisions?" I shot back sternly.
There was an immediate silence behind me. Mentioning the master's decision must have shut them up. Maybe the master wouldn't care, but the patriarch could not tolerate rebels within our clan.
This all started three weeks ago, after the master formed a pact with the leaders. They created a group and began hunting weak monsters to absorb their essence. The patriarch and the others managed to saturate their essence stones, enhancing their physical abilities and increasing their mana. They had grown strong enough to serve the master as training partners.
The master wanted the rest of us to grow just as strong. He wanted to form a bond with us too, but his mana wasn't enough for all of us. That's why we were on this expedition to this cave, which was once an ancient dungeon, to gather enough mana stones for everyone.
Little by little, we advanced until we reached the master, who was waiting for us at the entrance of the cave. As soon as we arrived, they waved us inside. I couldn't blame them, since the forest was dangerously unpredictable.
In total, there were nine of us. The master led, with the patriarch, Lady Dahlia, and the two best archers from the clan behind us. They placed us in the middle to better protect us. Honestly, I would have liked to go hunting with them, but I'm too terrible in combat, which was an anomaly for a warrior people like ours.
I've always preferred tinkering to fighting. I've always been lectured that in this cursed forest, we can't afford to dream and that survival takes priority over everything, blah, blah, blah... But I naively hoped that one day I could learn from a craftsman of the dwarf clan. So, I began tinkering with various things from time to time.
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After a few minutes of walking, we arrived at the village entrance. The master, who had finally gotten used to placing his hand on the runes engraved on the tree and infusing them with mana, deactivated part of the illusion field. At first, he thought it was a door to another dimension. You should have seen his face when I explained to him that it was just an illusion meant to repel monsters.
"He was in shock, hehehe!" I snickered to myself.
These runes had been placed for all the clans by the elves. The elves, like the dwarves, are neutral clans. They prefer providing us with equipment in exchange for protection because, unlike the rest of us, they're not fighters. They focus on crafting and the study of spiritual magic. Elves and dwarves have a strong affinity for spiritual magic, as seen with their spirit descendants. I've heard that once they reach maturity, they summon spirits to form a contract with them.
We returned to the village, and I sighed with relief as I unloaded the weight I had been carrying. I stretched to loosen my stiff body.
Furrowing my brow, I looked toward the whispers coming from the village center. Three young women—or rather, three young elves—were advancing toward the master, surrounded by villagers. Their bodies were in tatters, covered with wounds, and blood flowed freely, staining their pale skin.
"Is that even possible?"
This race was known for their extraordinary beauty, yet they seemed unrecognizable to me.
"What in the world is going on?" I wondered as I made my way through the crowd.
The patriarch, who had recognized someone among them, looked disconcerted. He ran toward them, shouting a name.
"Katia?? What happened?" he asked.
The young elf, struggling to keep her eyes open, took a deep breath and exhaled.
"Hordes!!!" she screamed in terror.
"Hordes? What does that have to do with their condition?" the master asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Forgive me, but that's what we call an invasion of monsters, my lord," I explained, bowing to him.
"We came seeking help and to warn you that all the clans are in danger," she explained, groaning in pain.
Murmurs spread through the crowd, everyone clearly worried. Even with the illusion barrier, it wouldn't be enough to repel a large-scale horde of monsters.
"Why didn't you seek help from the other nearby clans? Like the Dhakat clan, perhaps?" the patriarch asked skeptically.
Cough... Cough... Cough...
The young elf coughed, her face pale. Despair was written all over it. Her empty eyes, trembling hands—she had already tucked them between her thighs to try to stop them, but nothing helped.
Her lips twisted into a macabre smile, sending a chill down my spine.
"Her eyes weren't smiling at all," I thought.
"The Dhakat clan was decimated."