Chapter 10: “In a World Like This” Part 1

‘That so-called nobility, that so-called sacrifice.’

Arna thought of those as mere excuses of those who lacked something.

To those who had very little, even the smallest possession would appear invaluable.

To her, that was how the humans’ “life” seemed.

Compared to the elves who could live forever unless external causes of death intervened, the humans, who struggled to live even a hundred years, had an undeniable disparity. 4

Humans claimed their lives were precious because they were short, but to elves, it sounded no different from a poor man saying he was happy and had no need for wealth when looking at a rich person.

‘What meaning could there be in a life that flickers for a moment? What meaning could there be in the life of a short-lived race that cannot create history for itself?’

She had thought this way for her entire life in the elf village.

The fascinating thing was, the older elves got, the more they tended to agree with the humans’ claim.

At only 150 years old, Arna found this phenomenon baffling.

Even those elders who were considered young among the senior elves, despite being 514 years old, refrained from disparaging short-lived races like humans.

Elders who had stopped counting their age after a thousand years even treated a human who had lived only five years with respect.

A human sage, despite living only seventy years, would be revered upon arriving in the elves’ holy city of Cyrill.

What then, when an 18-year-old human hero arrived?

Not a sage who knew everything about the human world, not a grand wizard well-versed in human-style magic developed differently from the elves, but simply a visitor said to be chosen by a goddess—a figure from another world—this guest alone was enough to bring solemnity to the council of elven elders.

Arna couldn’t contain her curiosity.

She asked her uncle, who had lived 427 years longer than her, about the reason.

Her uncle looked at her intently before answering.

“That hero came into this world chosen by the goddess. He risks his life willingly to destroy the evils of the world. He has lived just over one-tenth of the time you have and has only just become an adult by human standards. Yet, look at him. Does he think as you do? Does he act as if all the goodwill he receives is his due?”

Indeed, her uncle’s words were true.

The hero behaved as if he believed he was unworthy of the endless goodwill from the council.

But even that seemed strange to Arna.

Though he may not have achieved it himself, and while it was uncertain if the one who chose him was truly a goddess, the fact that he had received the power of the one he claimed was the goddess was undeniable.

And if he could use that power to defeat demons, that alone should qualify as a right.

Among young elves, confidence was considered a virtue.

While wrapping oneself in lies was worthy of ridicule, hiding one’s ability to accomplish what others could not—or had never done—was unthinkable.

Even if one couldn’t boast before much older elves, concealing and downplaying one’s achievements was incomprehensible.

‘Is that not the very history one has lived?’

A week after the hero arrived in the holy city, an elf was chosen to join the hero’s party to fight against the demons.

Arna was shocked to learn it was her.

“Young elf, go. Go and witness every step of the hero’s journey. So that his every move may become history and that we can take pride in having contributed, however slightly, to their history. Spread his story far and wide, and let his good deeds be praised for generations.”

The elder had requested Arna to become the hero’s ally with those words.

It was a strange thing to say.

How could an elf merely offer “slight help” in human affairs?

Though she was considered young among elves, the knowledge she had accumulated surpassed that of the oldest humans.

With an intelligent mind, swift movements, and abilities superior to humans in every way, how could a long-lived elf be of only “slight” help?

‘I will become the greatest among them.’

‘And I will prove to be the most powerful force in defeating the demons.’

Following the hero, she made that resolution.

But she couldn’t achieve it.

It took less than a year for Arna to face reality.

It wasn’t that her skills were inferior to the others in the party.

Nor was it that she lacked knowledge or couldn’t cook.

In a party composed of the hero, a warrior, a mage, a saintess, and herself—an elf who could fulfill the role of an archer that the others could not—Arna was never unnecessary.

It was simply that what she saw and felt was so vastly different from what she had read and heard in the elf village.

The stories of heroes who fought demons in the elf village mostly glorified their achievements.

They rarely depicted the harsh realities and focused only on the glorious battles and their victories.

The groans of dying soldiers, the screams of children being devoured alive by monsters, and the sobbing of women violated by demons—none of these were written down, not even a single word.

No, perhaps they were recorded in other books.

But she, who had never truly wanted to learn about those harsh realities, who only looked down on and mocked short-lived humans, was unaware of them.

The 150 years of “history” she had accumulated were nothing more than a history skewed to suit her own taste.

Humans who had just come of age, or in dire circumstances, those as young as fifteen, took up swords and spears to march onto the battlefield.

These young beings, who, if they were elves, would only just be beginning to understand the world, were experiencing things on the battlefield that they never should have endured.

For someone who had lived 15 years to suffer for 5 years before dying, wouldn’t that mean they had suffered through 30% of their entire life?

What a wretched existence.

What an unfortunate people.

During the year after joining the hero’s party, she quietly wept herself to sleep every night.

Elves did not use the term “Demon King.” What humans referred to as the Demon King was merely the collective manifestation of the world’s “demonic essence” taking on a singular persona.

Even if it was slain, it would eventually return to life, and even if it scattered, it would reassemble after a long time.

Thus, it was always one and many at once, and could not truly be called the “king” of anything.

But humans called it the Demon King.

It commanded monstrous beasts as an individual, formed battle lines with demons, and advanced like an army.

It bypassed fortresses, laid sieges, launched ambushes, and staged retreats to sow confusion.

To humans, the “demonic essence” could only be a “king.”

And she came to understand why humans so urgently opposed the Demon King, and why the Council of Elven Elders listened carefully to the humans’ plea and decided to support the hero without hesitation.

Human lives were short.

Because of that, they sprinted desperately to achieve something within their brief time.

If it took 50 years to deal with the Demon King, that would mean an entire era would pass in human terms, leaving them in a perpetual state of war.

Naturally, humanity would not be able to endure that.

…And neither could the elves.

Elves had long lifespans.

If they encountered an incomprehensible problem, they could take as much time as needed to resolve it.

It was not unusual for political matters within elven society to be deliberated and planned over a century.

But the Demon King was different.

He had as much time as the elves but thought and acted like a human.

He devised strategies and revised tactics without delay, quickly adapting to new situations.

He infiltrated human society with demons, attempted to destabilize nations, and sought to corrupt key figures.

He was prepared to run at full speed for an extended period.

If the kingdoms between Cyrill and the Demon King fell, elven society would be wiped out before they could even react.

Ironically, only humans were flexible enough in their thinking to keep up with the Demon King’s rapid changes.

Having a deep history of confronting demons, humans quickly deduced how the Demon King might act and devised countermeasures accordingly.

That was something Arna could not do.

…She learned how to distinguish between elven life and history.

She learned that a history belonging to only one person could not truly be called history.

History was proof that everyone who lived in that era had been present.

Recording just one person’s life would be nothing but emptiness.

Within history, humans and elves acted differently.

They clashed and cooperated.

Sometimes they acknowledged their differences, and sometimes they did not.

They had different abilities and different things they could accomplish.

By her second year with the hero, Arna learned how to listen to the words of humans far younger than herself.