Once Karamir had recovered, the group continued along the remaining path, which wasn’t long. Just one more step forward, and they were greeted by a breathtaking sight, the kind that would make a sound like whoosh explode in your mind.

Built along the natural borders of the earth and the towering trees, roads and houses formed an elf village.

Karamir, feeling a bit emotional, marveled at the thought of how few humans must have ever laid eyes on this place.

“The Sentinels are back?”

“And who did they bring? It’s not an elf.”

The forest buzzed with whispers. The elves, going about their business, turned their attention one by one to the new arrivals.

One all-purpose slave. Two all-purpose slaves. Three all-purpose slaves…

Karamir quickly shook his head to clear his thoughts.

‘I’m a good slave trader,’ he reminded himself.

He couldn’t just enslave someone who was living their life peacefully, after all.

“What’s all this commotion?” a voice suddenly demanded.

“Elder.”

An elderly elf, leaning on a staff, approached as the Sentinels respectfully bowed to him.

He was an image of elegance and dignity, his face marked by the passage of time, though in a way that added to his noble appearance rather than detracting from it.

Yet, there was something off about his gait.

“Arpia?”

“H-Hello, Elder…”

The elf elder in question was the one who had been shot in the rear during Arpia’s debut as an archer. She squirmed awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable facing him again.

“What brings you here? I distinctly remember that you were banned from returning to this village…”

The elder narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Arpia. As a High Elf who had lived through eons, he could see what others couldn’t.

“And what is that on your soul?”

For instance, the shackles bound to Arpia’s soul.

“It’s a mark of slavery. I’m a slave now,” Arpia declared.

Once, she would have tried to hide the shame of being defiled, but not anymore. Now, she spoke with confidence.

“A… slave?”

“Arpia, a slave?”

The surrounding elves erupted into shocked murmurs.

The elder, too, was briefly taken aback, but he quickly regained his composure. With a firm thud of his staff, he silenced the crowd with an authoritative command.

“Quiet! All of you!”

Once the group had settled, the elder turned his attention back to Arpia’s soul. He could trace the source of the shackles.

“This human is your master.”

“Yes, Elder. I am Karamir, a humble slave trader,” Karamir replied with a bow.

“A slave trader, here? Did you come to take more elves as slaves?”

Screams erupted from the elves around them as parents quickly ushered their children inside their homes.

In the midst of the growing tension, Karamir burst out laughing.

“If someone overheard, they’d misunderstand! No, no, I merely rescued Arpia when she was being kidnapped. I don’t have a habit of forcibly making people my slaves.”

“Kidnapped?”

The elder raised a brow, clearly unfamiliar with this story.

“My, you didn’t know? Well, I suppose you wouldn’t have cared about someone you banished, even if she was suffering at the hands of humans. You’d likely never have known, even if she was mistreated for the rest of her life.”

Karamir’s words were laced with a bitter smile, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“But no need to worry—I’ve brought her back safe and sound. I’ve heard elves don’t forget their debts. Surely you won’t harm the benefactor of your own kind, right? No way you’d tarnish the pride your ancestors built over thousands of years by attacking me.”

“…What is it you want?”

The elder had no choice but to engage. Karamir had subtly taken control of the conversation, slowly slipping out of the Sentinels’ watchful net as he strolled casually.

“Nothing much. Just for Arpia to participate in the Dance of the Fairy Festival and for my safety to be guaranteed during the event.”

“Arpia can hardly handle a bow, let alone commune with spirits. The outcome is all but certain…”

“Well, if the outcome’s so certain, then there’s no reason to refuse, is there?”

“Why does a slave trader care so much about the Dance of the Fairy Festival? What are you after?”

“After?”

Karamir looked around at the elves who had gathered to watch, intrigued by the spectacle.

Despite their lofty airs, they weren’t all that different from humans, in Karamir’s eyes.

“I plan to crush your so-called pride with a slave that I’ve trained.”

 

They were detained.

Not quite prisoners in cells, but certainly under constant surveillance to prevent them from wandering around freely.

‘At least the accommodations aren’t bad,’ Karamir thought as he took in the room.

It was a cozy space filled with the scent of nature. The bed made of leaves was soft and comfortable.

True, he’d made plenty of enemies, but it didn’t bother him. He’d gotten a verbal guarantee of safety from the elf elder himself. The elves, with their ingrained respect for authority, would never dare defy the elder’s decree.

Karamir took a sip of an unfamiliar thick liquid. It was sweet and tangy—quite delicious, actually.

A sudden rustling sound came from outside.

“H-Hey!” Karamir yelped.

“What’s wrong?” Arpia asked, looking unfazed.

“A bug, a huge one!”

“Oh, that’s all?”

Arpia chuckled.

That bug was the size of a human hand! Any bigger, and it could have swallowed his head whole!

Karamir wanted to scream internally, but he figured it wasn’t worth the effort. Arpia, apparently, had deemed the situation too trivial to care about and instead gazed out the window, her expression clouded with concern.

“What’s bothering you?” Karamir asked.

“I’m worried about the festival. Do you know who won the last tournament?”

“Rion, right?”

Arpia’s eyes widened in surprise as she turned back to Karamir.

“How did you know?”

“He’s wearing the laurel wreath. It’s awarded to the greatest warrior of each generation.”

“You really know everything, huh?” Arpia said with a bittersweet smile before turning back to the window, her voice tinged with melancholy.

“Rion’s always been good at everything—bows, spirits, leadership. He became the youngest captain of the Forest Sentinels. Ever since he took command, no intruders have even made it past the forest’s edge.”

“He’s just a frog in a well,” Karamir remarked.

“You’re probably the only one who’d ever call Rion a frog.”

Arpia chuckled softly, her mood lightened slightly.

“Do you think you’ll lose?”

“I’m not sure. But win or lose, I don’t know if I could ever really live alongside them.”

“I can’t say either.”

The pain Arpia had accumulated over the years was beyond Karamir’s understanding. It wouldn’t be fair to her for him to say that winning the tournament would solve everything.

Still, as her master, he could at least offer this much:

“You don’t need to force yourself to fit in. If it comes down to it, we can always head back to Noktar.”

She’d gotten along well with the others back there, and her bright, fruity personality didn’t mesh well with the uptight elves anyway.

Arpia nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, you’re right. And right now…”

She tilted her head slightly and looked up at Karamir from under her lashes, a smile that could only be described as flirtatious playing on her lips. It was an elf version of the ‘perfect angle,’ and Karamir couldn’t help but feel the impact of her charm.

She continued to gaze at him for a while before he finally asked, “Is there something you want to say?”

“There is, but…”

She stopped herself, a mischievous smile curving her lips into the shape of a crescent moon.

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Later?”

“Later.”

 

After a few idle days, the day finally arrived.

The village was decorated with flowers, and the elves’ songs rode the breeze, spreading joy throughout the forest.

It was the perfect atmosphere for the Dance of the Fairy Festival to begin.

Children played, and female elves cooked, a scene no different from any typical festival.

But there was more to it. Like popcorn and movies, a festival needed excitement, something thrilling to complement the delicious food.

“All contestants, please gather here!” an elf named Is, who was in charge of overseeing the festival, called out.

The Sentinels, along with anyone confident in their skills, gathered one by one.

Arpia joined the group, waiting for her turn.

“Hey, old man!” a familiar voice called out.

“Hm? Arpia? It’s been a while. Are you joining the competition?”

“Yup.”

“Participation is open to anyone, so I won’t stop you, but please, for the love of all things sacred, don’t lose control of your spirit this time. I’ve just started to get attached to my house again.”

The cause of Arpia’s banishment from the village—the Spirit Rampage Incident.

One of the houses she had set on fire during that event had been Is’s. She couldn’t remember the details, but she felt bad enough to scratch the back of her head sheepishly.

With a playful smile, Is added Arpia’s name to the list of participants.

“So you’re really entering the tournament?”

A group of young elves approached Arpia.

“Irina…”

If Rion had always been the figure Arpia was compared to, Irina and her group were the ones who had taken the lead in ostracizing her.

Rion, at least, was someone Arpia could ignore with the thought, ‘He’s just not like me.’ But the constant insults and taunts from Irina and her crew were harder to brush off.

If Rion was someone who made her uncomfortable, then these elves were the ones Arpia genuinely despised.

“I heard you became a slave. You really are doing everything you can to drag down the dignity of the elves, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Your very existence is the problem.”

“Not that it matters what I say—someone like you, who’s lived their whole life being a burden, wouldn’t understand.”

Their insults weren’t even subtle. It was blatant, in-your-face verbal abuse.

In the past, Arpia would have lost her temper and attacked, her spirits amplifying her emotions. But not now.

She didn’t let them get under her skin.

“The tournament will begin soon. Contestants, please ready your weapons!”

The elves began to gather at the starting point.

“Try not to run into me,” Irina said with a smirk, giving Arpia a condescending pat on the shoulder before heading off.

With everyone gathered, Is began explaining the tournament rules.

“The rules are simple. You’ll each tie this ribbon to your bow. If the ribbon comes loose, you’re eliminated.”

The Dance of the Fairy Festival was a last-elf-standing competition.

All the participants would enter the forest, and the battle would continue until only one elf remained standing.

It wasn’t just about skill with a bow. Tracking, survival skills, and the ability to use the environment were equally important.

Each elf received a green ribbon and tied it to their bow. Irina, tying hers, glanced at Arpia and spoke up.

“Hey, how about we make a bet?”

“A bet?”

“I’m betting you’ll be the first one to drop out.”

“Oh, I’m in!”

“Me too!”

“Count me in!”

Without even asking Arpia’s opinion, the elves eagerly jumped in, turning the bet into an event.

A smug grin spread across Irina’s face as the others supported her.

“Arpia, don’t you have a bow?”

Is interrupted, noticing that while everyone else had tied their ribbons, Arpia was standing empty-handed.

“Ah, right. My bow broke last time.”

The elves snickered, and Irina even clutched her stomach, laughing out loud.

“She’s entering the competition… without a bow?!”

“I can give you a spare one, if you like,” Is offered.

“No, that’s okay.”

“If you don’t have a bow, you won’t be able to compete…”

Arpia met Irina’s gaze directly.

“I accept.”

“What?”

“I accept the bet.”

Her demeanor was calm and confident.

Irina’s brow twitched in disbelief. She had expected Arpia to cower, but instead, she was facing her head-on.

With a scoff, Irina brushed her hair back, trying to regain her composure.

“Fine, then. If I win… let’s see… Arpia, how about we trim your ears a little? That way, you won’t look like an elf anymore. Maybe then you can preserve a shred of our honor.”

“…”

“And how about this: If you lose, you’ll never set foot in this forest again. You and that inferior human can just leave for good.”

“Fine by me.”

Arpia agreed without hesitation, her expression unreadable.

Irina’s mouth twitched in frustration, her smirk faltering. She let out a huff and ran a hand through her hair again.

“And if by some miracle you win, what will you want from me? Want me to cut my ears?”

“No need.”

“What?”

Arpia extended her hand, and the Path opened before her.

Her brand glowed with light.

“What do you mean, no need?”

“I don’t want anything.”

The light gathered around her, condensing into a small orb.

The elves stared in awe at the orb of light, captivated by its ethereal beauty. It was both a familiar spirit and something entirely unknown to them.

Irina’s jaw hung open, but she was too stunned to close it.

“T-That… that’s…”

Arpia reached out and grasped the orb.

With a whoosh, the light stretched outward.

What emerged from the glowing form was a bow, a radiant, seven-colored bow made of pure spirit energy.

“I don’t need to bet anything,” Arpia said with a smile.

It was a smile that resembled someone else’s—a certain master’s.

“Because when you already know the outcome, it’s not a bet—it’s a scam.”