Chapter 53: Waiting

The elves of the Great Forest. 

The humans of the continent. 

The dwarves of the Steel Mountains. 

The beastfolk of the Starry Hills.

Each race has clear strengths and weaknesses. 

There are distinct differences in their characteristics.

Among them, the most numerous race is the humans. 

Even if the other three races were combined, humans would still outnumber them.

If it weren’t for the one calamity that befell them, human progress would have been much faster than it is now.

“If only monsters hadn’t appeared on the continent. Many things would be different now.”

As we head toward the area where monsters have appeared, the princess speaks up abruptly.

“At first, people believed it was a punishment or calamity sent by the gods. Many horrific things happened. Those who believed in the gods rushed to appease their wrath, leading to reckless religious trials and even witch hunts. The world was divided, and instead of uniting to fight an unprecedented disaster, they turned on each other.”

In my past life, I remember similar things happening.

When plagues spread or great fires broke out, people would always blame someone.

They did it to find stability, or perhaps just a scapegoat.

“After some time passed and we adapted a bit, we humans began to explore other possibilities. Could monsters somehow be useful to us? Could we find a way to turn this calamity to our advantage?”

Hmm. 

That part sounds like something out of a hunter story. 

Using monster byproducts or their remains.

I thought there might be some truth to it, but judging by the princess’s dark expression, it seems not.

“To put it bluntly, there’s nothing. No benefit whatsoever that monsters bring to us humans. They harm people, devastate farmland, destroy villages, cities, and castles. Every time we make progress, they appear and ruin everything down to the roots. They’re nothing but the devil’s filth.”

Monsters rarely appear near the Great Forest where we elves live.

The Steel Mountains, due to their high altitude, have very few dungeon occurrences.

Lastly, the Starry Hills are said to have a very low monster threat level.

So, as the princess said, it’s only the humans who are suffering.

Because of the monsters. 

Because of their senseless violence, with no purpose or reason.

They only lose, never gain, in an endless fight.

If the monsters were weak creatures that could be easily killed with a stab or slash, it might be different.

But they require the mobilization of regular armies. Skilled warriors are needed.

Magic and spirit arts must be poured into them to defeat them without heavy losses. 

They are true monsters.

“Ah, there’s a good example over there.”

A group of imperial soldiers block the entrance to a dungeon. 

The foul aura emanating from the area.

What’s peculiar is that my elven instincts amplify the discomfort.

It’s like standing in front of something rotting, the stench overwhelming.

“Undead. As you can see, they’re monsters that are nearly immune to all kinds of magic and spirit arts.”

“Are they a common type?”

“If they were, we’d have a lot more problems. Thankfully, they’re not that frequent.”

The princess says this as she draws her sword and steps forward.

Normally, someone would stop her, but the soldiers only step back, not daring to intervene.

It seems her reputation for skill is well-known even among them.

“I could handle this alone.”

“If that were the case, you wouldn’t have brought us along.”

“It would be rude to push away someone who’s trained under Sir Noah.”

The monsters emerging from the dungeon number around thirty.

Their movements are sluggish, and they don’t look particularly sturdy enough to withstand a sword.

“They don’t feel pain. Even if you cut off their limbs, torso, or even their head, they keep moving. The only way to deal with them is to completely immobilize them and turn them to dust.”

“So it’s a fight where you have no choice but to engage directly.”

“The disgusting smell is just a bonus. Are you really okay with this? I believe in Tyreal, but I’m not sure if other elves would feel the same.”

Indeed. Facing such repulsive creatures, even my kin might hesitate.

Not out of fear, but more like avoiding something filthy, like stepping around dung.

“From the moment we left the Great Forest, everyone had some idea of what to expect. And above all, if my kin try to avoid this, I’ll push them forward myself.”

I shatter an undead creature with a single blow.

With no skin or muscle, just bones, it crumbles easily.

The clattering sound of its movements is somewhat eerie.

“Like everything in life, you can’t just do what you like. I’ve had enough of that in the Great Forest. This is better.”

Those who would have endured decades more of nagging about magic and spirit arts have now come into the world.

Without purpose, without reason. 

Without time to look back or around, they were driven forward.

If I can show them a clear path in any way, they will follow it.

Especially if, in the process, humans come to admire the elves.

“Looking at you, I can see that elves aren’t such a bad race after all.”

“Perhaps that day will come.”

In the damned, arrogant, self-absorbed land of Kanph.

Even if they’re still overflowing with confidence, as neighbors who have earned their place.

The day will come again when, instead of calling us “ear-freaks,” they’ll murmur “elves” in admiration.

I fervently wish for that day as I begin to destroy the monsters alongside the princess.

*

“…Wait, hold on.”

A few days later. I met Seril, who had been out of contact for a while, and heard some surprising news.

“So, the elders in the village were stirring up trouble again?”

“It wasn’t just trouble. If we were any later, they might have branded Tyreal a traitor.”

“Even after seeing me draw the bow of the Mother Forest?”

“They conveniently left that part out and only emphasized the destruction.”

Wow. 

Really. 

I’m at a loss for words. 

Seriously… calling them Kanph is too kind.

They force magic and spirit arts on us, saying we must draw the bow of the Mother Forest.

But when someone actually does it, they can’t accept it and turn their backs?

If destruction is the problem, then yes, it’s a problem. I’ll admit that.

But on the other hand, it’s the elves who couldn’t even do that until now.

What right do those who couldn’t even string the bow have to say such things?

“So I took care of it. For now.”

“Took care of it? How?”

“I challenged them to a duel.”

“What?”

“But none of the elders actually stepped forward.”

Of course not! 

What kind of adult would duel a child who’s not even of age?

Even if they won, they’d be forever shamed for bullying a young kin.

If they lost? I guarantee there’d be an elf hanging from a tree that very day.

“Wait, hold on. Seril, what made you so confident to do something like that?”

“Confidence isn’t always necessary.”

“Huh?”

“Tyreal said. It’s not about having confidence, but about doing what needs to be done.”

I did say that. But still, this was… too dangerous.

‘Thank you, Uncle.’

I silently convey my gratitude, and a hearty laugh echoed in response.

He added that I should deliver the message to that guy myself when we meet later.

Apparently, he didn’t just do it out of obligation but out of interest.

“By the way, Tyreal. Are you really okay with this?”

“I’ve entered the academy, and now I’ll be helping the empire in the fight against monsters.”

“No, no. Not the humans. I mean our kin. The Great Forest. The talk will continue. Why should elves bow their heads? Why not just bury the past and move on?”

Seril’s concern is valid. Honestly, there’s no clear solution.

The events born of old times mean that what we need most is time.

Unfortunately, not right now. This uneasy situation will have to persist for a while.

“We have to prove it through change. How humans view us, how they speak of us. When they see and hear it for themselves, the Great Forest will surely stir.”

“But… sigh. Fine. Let’s say you’re right. How long will that take? 20 years? 50 years? 100 years?”

I shook my head at Seril’s words. In moments like these, it’s clear that Seril is still an elf through and through.

It won’t take that long. Change starts with humans, not us.

“Shortest, a year. Longest, three years.”

“That’s impossible. Just that much?”

“…”

Yes. 

For elves, it’s just a blink. 

Like talking about a few months.

But for humans, it’s plenty of time. 

Many positive changes will happen in that period.

And that moment will be the crack in the great dam that is the Great Forest.

*

And three years passed.

…Honestly, it still feels like three months, not three years.