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Whoosh!
A fierce sound cut through the forest.
Whenever that sound rang out, what followed was as predictable as a well-rehearsed melody.
Thunk!
An arrow's trajectory curved through the wind.
Yet its speed rivaled that of light.
An arrow from somewhere struck an elven archer's bow directly. The bow shattered, and its ribbon fluttered to the ground.
In the elven village, a spirit watching everything relayed the situation. Evelyn, the elf in charge of broadcasting, shouted at the top of her lungs.
"Dancing Flame Eloywn is out! With this, only eleven warriors remain! This is the fastest anyone has ever progressed in history!!"
The Elven Dance Festival was a competition that lasted for days. Participants would hide, seek, and ambush each other across the entire forest until only one warrior remained standing.
But already, nearly twenty participants had been eliminated. At this unprecedented pace, the competition looked set to end in just one day.
Evelyn checked the remaining participants.
Silent Wing Leon.
Singing Bird Eileen.
Whispering Leaf Irina.
.
.
.
The expected candidates were all there.
And one oddball that stuck out.
Playful Flower Alfia.
***
"Huff, huff, huff…"
Harsh, ragged breathing.
Irina was frantically leaping between treetops. Her breathing was irregular, and her hand gripping the bow was slick with cold sweat.
Perhaps because of this, as Irina tried to swing from one tree to another using a vine, her hand slipped. Instead of an arc, she traced a diagonal line, face-planting into the ground.
Splat.
Fortunately, she fell into a swamp, so the impact wasn't too severe, but her pristine face was now caked in mud.
Mud had gotten into her mouth, but Irina didn't even think to spit it out. At the rustle of leaves, she hastily turned around.
An elf approached slowly, pushing aside the grass.
"Alfia…!"
Alfia, whom Irina had believed without a doubt would be the first to be eliminated, was not only still in the game but had driven Irina into a corner.
How?
There was no need to ask. A bow-shaped light was shimmering in Alfia's hand.
"W-What is that? It's impossible for you to wield such power!"
Irina shouted, overcome with rage.
Alfia's response was nonchalant.
"To be honest, I'm still not sure myself. I wonder if this is a dream. Maybe I've lost my mind from the pain."
But it wasn't a dream.
There were shackles on her soul, given by him. Her soul, dyed in his color, proved this wasn't a dream.
Lost in reminiscence, Alfia barely noticed her surroundings.
After glancing around, Irina commanded her spirit. Whoosh! Riding the summoned wind, she easily escaped the swamp. The whirling wind stripped away the mud.
"Fire!"
The shout rang out, seeming to signal others.
In an instant, Irina's gang who had been hiding, simultaneously released their bowstrings.
Dozens of arrows wrapped in wind.
A concentrated barrage aimed solely at Alfia rained down.
The attack went beyond simply trying to remove a ribbon, but no one particularly cared. It wasn't uncommon for accidents to happen to an elf or two during the competition.
Arrows turning Alfia into a porcupine, wind tearing her skin to shreds───
───was what should have happened.
"…Huh?"
The arrows shot with such force hung motionless in mid-air, completely defying the laws of physics.
They were blocked by a wind barrier that had spread out around Alfia. The wind spirits wielded by the elves couldn't penetrate the barrier.
"He's not an inferior species."
Her eyes bore no innocence, and instead, a pale red rage had taken its place.
The arrowheads that had been aimed at Alfia rotated 180 degrees.
Fwoosh!
The wind howled and raged like a screaming tempest, the wind spiraling and converging into a single point at their tips.
"Don't carelessly insult that man."
Fwoosh!
Like a curled-up hedgehog suddenly shooting out its quills, the arrows fired in all directions.
Thwack! Thwack!
"Ugh!"
"Ah?"
Before they could even react, the arrows struck their bows directly. Another gust of wind surged. Crack! The bows splintered and pulverized as if fed through a grinder.
To an elf, a bow is more than just a weapon.
It's a link between the elf and nature.
A soulbound extension of themselves, forged from their very essence.
And now, this other self had vanished without a trace. It wasn't something that could be made in a day, nor summoned again like a shadow clone jutsu.
"You! You…!"
"Be grateful. If that man had ordered me to eradicate the elves, it wouldn't have been your bows that disappeared, but you."
"You traitor! Wagging your tail under an inferior species. Don't you have any pride? Can you even call yourself an elf anymore?"
"My pride is in repaying that man's faith in me."
She would fulfill any command Karami gave her.
Alfia raised her head. The spirits, bowing to their Master, relayed every detail of the forest to her.
A tree stretched towards the sky as if reaching for the heavens, and atop it stood a lone figure.
The last survivor of the Elven Dance Festival.
Leon.
Alfia soared rapidly, ascending with the wind.
***
Leon had climbed a tree immediately after the competition began.
From a high vantage point, one could grasp the entire situation at a glance, read the situation, and snipe from a place beyond the reach of enemy attacks.
This could be considered the basics of hunting.
What's going on?
But something was off.
He had taken his position, but there was no prey in sight.
No, one prey was approaching of its own accord. And at a speed rivaling running on flat ground. Leon's eyes widened slightly in surprise.
Thwack!
There was an elf ascending through the leaves, bowstring already drawn.
She was different from the forest elves he was accustomed to seeing. The green wind forming wings around her almost resembled a butterfly.
Not just assisted by the wind, but fully becoming one with it.
Alfia, cloaked in the wind of the Wind Servant, released her bowstring. The wind arrow tore through the atmosphere.
Leon's eyes flashed open. His danger detection ability, honed as the Captain of the Guardians, was far superior to others.
The penetrating force contained in that arrow was unstoppable. His spirits were no match. Having made a quick judgment, Leon threw himself down from the tree.
Thud.
As he fell, he grabbed a branch and spun in mid-air, gracefully landing on another branch.
A gust of wind blew in.
Turning around, he saw Alfia pursuing him, her wings fluttering. Wind blades spawned from the fluttering of her wings, slicing through the massive trees blocking her path like tofu.
"Leon! Stop running! Face me and fight!"
What the fuck.
This is no longer spirit arts or archery.
It was a natural disaster.
A natural disaster created by a butterfly.
A butterfly fucking powerful enough to cause a storm.
A small change made by one man had brought about a storm, and Leon was facing the full brunt of the butterfly effect's aftermath.
Leon poured all his accumulated experience into fleeing. He ran from the storm at full speed.
But it was impossible for a mere person to escape a natural disaster.
Before long, Leon was swept up in the storm.
It was a day when every last one of those high-and-mighty elven warriors got their asses handed to them by a single slave.
***
Is this a festival?
No, it's a funeral.
The village atmosphere brought to mind that kind of documentary program.
While the surface exuded a festive mood, the inside was anything but. The expressions of the elves were uniformly dazed.
All the warriors who participated in the competition had ended up like Alfia. Which was to say, they no longer had bows.
It was the weakest moment in the history of elves in terms of national strength.
But as always, there were those who benefited even in such times. The blacksmith responsible for creating the elves' weapons grinned broadly.
The corners of his mouth were so high they nearly reached his ears, which for an elf known for barely showing their emotions, was equivalent to another race's mouth grinning from ear to ear.
"Hmm, guess I'll be busy for a while."
The blacksmith entered his workshop, hands clasped behind his back.
Not long after, an award ceremony was held to honor the victor.
Elves of all ages gathered. From the Forest Guardians to the Elven Elders, and even the Elf Queen who ruled over all.
Though they numbered only two thousand, even a young elf possessed power surpassing that of a full-fledged mage. Each individual was a walking weapon of war.
And Alfia was the strongest among the elves.
If they were cannons, Alfia would be the Neo Armstrong Cyclone Jet Armstrong Cannon.1
"How is it? Does this suit me?"
Alfia, having received the laurel wreath from the Elf Queen's hands, bounced back to Karami with lively steps.
The prize for winning the Elven Dance Festival. Its official name was [Laurel Wreath of the World Tree], woven from the leaves and branches of the World Tree.
When worn, the World Tree's energy spreads, reducing fatigue accumulation for elf slaves and increasing work speed—an in-game item.
At the same time, it was a symbolic object signifying Alfia's ascension of the final step towards complete liberation.
"It suits you well. You look like a princess."
"Hehe~ You think so? I was going to take it off because it felt awkward, but I guess I'll keep wearing it."
***
That evening.
A modest celebration for just the two of them was held to commemorate Alfia's victory.
The location was a shabby hut outside the barrier. Like a lonely island in a vast sea, it was the house where Alfia had lived.
"This seems too shabby to be the home of the greatest elven warrior."
"Well… I suppose it is."
"Let's ask them to build you a house to celebrate your victory. A grand palace."
"I'm not sure about a house, but I think they said they'd make a bow for the winner for generations to come. A bow made from a branch of the World Tree."
A World Tree bow that could draw out spirit power even more strongly.
It was a perfect prize for Alfia, who currently had no bow. After all, weapons created by Servants consumed a lot of energy.
"Kyaa~"
Alfia took a swig of alcohol.
Since receiving the brand, she no longer felt pain thanks to beating the spirits into submission. Though she no longer needed to drink to numb the pain, how could she not drink on such a joyous day?
Alcohol tasted especially good when in high spirits.
"This reminds me of when we first met."
"Indeed it does."
A drinking contest with a strange man as soon as she regained consciousness.
Didn't he say he'd let her go if she won? At the time, she thought it was nonsense, but looking back now, Alfia felt Karami would have truly set her free.
"It feels like it all flashed by in the blink of an eye, but so much has happened."
Kidnapped, enslaved.
Training, fighting a dark elf.
Returning to the forest, participating in the competition, and even winning.
Even by human standards, it wasn't a long time, but for an elf who lived for a thousand years, how ephemeral must it have seemed? It had passed in the literal blink of an eye.
But Alfia was certain. These few months with Karami were far more valuable and precious than the hundreds of years she had spent alone.
"Um, I have something to say…"
That was why she wanted to tell him.
Words she had kept secret.
Things she wanted to do with Karami.
Now that she had become a proper elf, she felt she could say it confidently.
"You know, about us…"
Her face felt hot. Was she already tipsy?
But she couldn't back down now.
Humans already have such short lives, every moment is precious!
Alfia squeezed her eyes tight, summoned every ounce of courage, and shouted.
"W-Will you form a soul pact with me?!"
A thousand-year vow made with a loved one.
An elven ritual where they engrave each other's hearts into the very essence of their souls.
With Karami, it would last a few decades at most. She would have to spend the rest of her long life alone, but that was okay. After all, wasn't her soul already bound to his through shackles?
At first, she thought her soul had been defiled. She believed she could never experience an ordinary love. But with Karami, nothing seemed impossible!
…
Silence.
Was he too shocked?
Or does Karami not feel the same way? What if I'd misunderstood everything and made a fool of myself?
As Alfia fretted anxiously, she slowly opened her eyes.
"…Huh?"
She found Karami fast asleep, his forehead pressed against the table.
Last time, he had remained perfectly sober even after drinking several bottles of strong liquor, yet he had passed out already? Was he perhaps pretending to avoid answering?
Alfia couldn't understand it at all, but this time, Karami hadn't used any items, so it was a natural result.
His alcohol tolerance wasn't particularly high.
Alfia felt deflated.
She considered waking him up to confess again, but…
I'll do it tomorrow.
There was still plenty of time.
She didn't like the idea of speaking under the influence of alcohol anyway. She'd do it again when sober.
Alfia looked at the peacefully sleeping Karami like he were her beloved. She gently ran her fingers through his bangers.
In the quiet dawn.
After a while, Alfia too had fallen asleep. Perhaps due to such a wonderful day and the alcohol, her expression was bright as if having a pleasant dream.
On the opposite side.
Karami's body, which had been lying face down, moved.
Slowly, he began to rise.