Ssshwak!

The sharp sound of something slicing through the air echoed through the forest.

Whenever that sound rang out, it was always followed by the same sequence of noises, almost like a predetermined melody.

Thwack!

A twisting trajectory carried by the wind, moving as fast as light.

An arrow came flying from somewhere, striking the elf archer's bow directly. The bow shattered, and ribbons fluttered in the air.

 

Elf Village.

The spirits, who had been observing everything, reported the situation. Evelyn, the elf acting as the announcer, shouted at the top of her lungs.

“Dancing Flames Ellowyn Talaak! Now only eleven warriors remain! This is the fastest elimination rate in history!!”

The Dance of the Fairy Festival was a competition that spanned several days. It involved hiding, seeking, ambushing, all across the entire forest, until only one warrior was left standing.

But nearly twenty participants had already been eliminated. The pace of the event was unprecedented, and it looked like it might end within just a day.

Evelyn checked the remaining participants.

Silent Wings Leon. Singing Bird Aileen. Whispering Leaves Irina. ... The expected contenders.

And then, a peculiar outlier.

Playful Flower Arpia.

 

“Hah, hah, hah…”

Ragged breaths.

Irina was darting between the trees. Her breathing was uneven, and her hand, gripping her bow, was slick with cold sweat.

Perhaps that was why. As she tried to swing to another tree using a vine, her hand slipped. Irina traced a sharp diagonal arc before crashing face-first into the ground.

Thud.

Fortunately, she landed in a swamp, so the impact wasn't too severe. But her pale face was now covered in muck.

Mud even got into her mouth, but Irina didn’t even think about spitting it out. Her head whipped around at the sound of rustling grass.

A fairy was pushing aside the foliage and slowly approaching.

“Arpia...!”

The very Arpia whom Irina had been so sure was the first to be eliminated was still alive. Not only that, she was the one who had cornered Irina.

How?

There was no need to ask. In Arpia’s hand, a bow made of light was glowing brightly.

“What, what is that? There’s no way you should be able to wield such power!”

Irina’s scream was filled with disbelief. Arpia’s reaction, however, was calm.

“To be honest, I’m still unsure. I keep wondering if this is a dream, or if I’ve lost my mind because of the pain.”

But it wasn’t a dream.

The shackles he had placed on her soul, staining it with his color, were proof that this was all real.

Arpia momentarily lost in thought.

Meanwhile, Irina, glancing around, manipulated the spirits. Whoosh! A gust of wind lifted Irina out of the swamp. The swirling air blew the mud off her body.

“Fire!”

Her shout seemed like a signal to someone.

Simultaneously, Irina’s hidden allies unleashed a barrage of arrows from all directions.

Dozens of arrows swirled with wind, all aimed at Arpia.

It was an attack far beyond what was needed just to remove a ribbon, but that didn’t matter. In these competitions, it wasn’t uncommon for a few elves to suffer accidents.

Arrows were supposed to turn Arpia into a pincushion, and the wind should have shredded her skin.

── At least, that’s what should have happened.

“...What?”

The arrows that had been shot with such force stopped dead in the air.

Defying the laws of physics entirely.

They had been blocked by a wind barrier spreading from Arpia. The elves’ wind spirits couldn’t penetrate the barrier.

“I’m not inferior.”

There was no innocence left in Arpia’s eyes. Instead, they glowed faintly red with anger.

The heads of the arrows aimed at Arpia rotated 180 degrees.

Screech!

The wind roared violently.

The spiraling wind wrapped the arrows like a tornado.

“Don’t you dare insult him.”

Swoosh!

Like a hedgehog firing its quills, the arrows shot out in all directions.

Thwack!

Thud!

“Ugh!”

“Huh?”

Before anyone could react, the arrows struck their bows directly. The wind blew again. Crack, crack, crack! The bows were shredded like they were caught in a blender.

For an elf, a bow is not just a weapon.

It is the connection between an elf and nature.

A replica of their soul, carefully crafted.

And that replica had disappeared without a trace. It wasn’t something they could recreate in a day, nor could it be summoned again like some shadow clone technique.

“You! You...!”

“Be grateful. If he had told me to eliminate elves, it wouldn’t have been just your bow that disappeared.”

“You traitor! Wagging your tail under an inferior species. Have you no pride? Do you even call yourself an elf?”

“Repaying his trust is my pride.”

If it’s Karamir’s order, Arpia would achieve anything.

Arpia raised her head. The spirits, bowing to their servant, relayed the information of the forest to her.

Atop a tree that seemed to reach the sky, stood a lone figure.

The last remaining survivor of the Fairy Festival.

Leon.

Arpia quickly ascended, riding the wind.

 

Leon had climbed a tree as soon as the competition began.

From a high vantage point, he could survey the entire battlefield. He could read the situation and snipe his targets from a place where their attacks couldn’t reach him.

It was a basic principle of hunting.

‘What’s going on?’

But something felt off.

He had found a good spot, but there was no prey in sight.

No, there was one. A prey was coming directly to him. And it was moving as fast as if it were running on flat ground. Leon’s eyes widened.

Thwack!

As he pulled back his bowstring, a fairy emerged, cutting through the leaves.

This wasn’t like any forest fairy he had seen before. The wind, forming the shape of wings with a green glow, made her resemble a butterfly.

Not using the wind as an aid, but completely merging with it.

Arpia, cloaked in the wind servant’s power, released her bowstring. The wind arrow tore through the atmosphere.

Leon’s eyes flickered. His heightened sense of danger, honed from his time as the leader of the forest wardens, was far sharper than others’.

The penetrating power of the arrow was unstoppable. His spirits weren’t strong enough. Quickly making a decision, Leon threw himself under the tree.

Thunk.

As he fell, he grabbed a branch, spinning in mid-air, and lightly landed on another branch.

A gale blew.

Looking back, Arpia was flying towards him, her wings flapping. The wind blades born from her wings sliced through the massive trees ahead like tofu.

“Leon! Don’t run! Fight me!”

This is insane.

That’s no longer spirit magic or archery.

It’s a natural disaster.

A butterfly-made disaster.

A butterfly so strong, it could summon storms.

Leon had encountered the aftermath of the butterfly effect firsthand, caused by a single man’s twisted decisions.

Leon poured all of his accumulated experience into escaping. He ran at full speed from the storm.

But no mere person can escape from a natural disaster.

Before long, Leon was swept away by the storm.

That was the day when even the most skilled elven warriors were utterly defeated by a single slave.

 

Is it a festival?

No, it’s a funeral.

That was the vibe in the village.

It certainly looked festive on the surface, but it wasn’t. Every elf’s expression was vacant.

All the warriors who participated in the competition ended up like Arpia. Meaning, they no longer had their bows.

In all of elven history, this was the weakest moment for their nation.

But in times like these, someone always profits. The elves’ weaponsmith was grinning ear to ear.

For an elf, whose expressions are usually subdued, the fact that his smile was so wide meant that if he were another species, his mouth would’ve ripped open.

“Hmm, looks like I’ll be busy for a while.”

The smith, hands behind his back, returned to his workshop.

 

Not long after, a ceremony was held to honor the winner.

All the elves, young and old, gathered. From the forest wardens to the elven elders, and even their queen.

There were only about two thousand of them, but even a young elf possessed the strength of a full-fledged mage. Each one was a walking war machine.

And Arpia was the strongest among them.

If they were cannons, Arpia would be a Neo Armstrong Cyclone Jet Armstrong Cannon.

“How do I look? Does it suit me?”

Arpia, who had just been crowned with a laurel by the elven queen, skipped back to Karamir.

The prize for winning the Fairy Festival. Officially named [Laurel of the World Tree], it was woven from the leaves and branches of the World Tree.

When worn, the energy of the World Tree spread through the wearer, reducing fatigue for elven slaves and increasing their work efficiency—an in-game item.

At the same time, it was a symbolic item, marking the final step in Arpia’s complete liberation.

“It suits you. You look like a princess.”

“Hmph~ Is that so? I was thinking of taking it off because it felt awkward, but I guess I’ll keep wearing it.”

 

That evening.

A small, private celebration was held for the two of them to honor Arpia’s victory.

The location was a shabby hut outside the village’s barrier. Like an isolated island in the middle of a vast ocean, it was the home where Arpia had lived.

“It’s pretty unimpressive for the home of the greatest warrior among elves.”

“Well… it is what it is.”

“Why don’t you ask for a new house to celebrate your victory? Something grand, like a palace.”

“I’m not sure about a house, but I heard they make a bow for the winner. A bow crafted from the branches of the World Tree.”

A bow that would enhance the power of the spirits even further.

It was the perfect reward for Arpia, who had no bow. After all, the weapons created by servants consumed a lot of energy.

“Ahh~”

Arpia took a swig of her drink.

Ever since the branding, after beating the spirits into submission, she no longer felt pain. Her body no longer needed alcohol, but how could she resist drinking on such a joyous day?

Alcohol always tasted better when in a good mood.

“This reminds me of when we first met.”

“Indeed.”

When she first regained consciousness, she was challenged to a drinking contest with a stranger.

Did he say he would set her free if she won? Back then, she had thought it was nonsense, but looking back, Karamir probably would have kept his word.

“It feels like it all happened so fast, but so much has occurred.”

She had been kidnapped, enslaved.

Trained, fought dark elves.

Returned to the forest and participated in the competition, ending with her victory.

Even when measured by human standards, it wasn’t that long of a time, but for an elf who lived for a thousand years, it must have been even shorter. It had all passed in the blink of an eye, literally.

But Arpia was confident. The few months she spent with Karamir were far more precious and valuable than the hundreds of years she had lived alone.

“Hey, I have something to say...”

And so, she wanted to express it.

The words she had kept hidden in her heart.

Something she wanted to do with Karamir.

Now that she had become a proud elf, she felt like she could finally say it with confidence.

“Hey, um...”

Her face flushed. Was she already tipsy?

But there was no turning back now.

Humans had such short lives, every moment was precious!

Arpia squeezed her eyes shut and spoke boldly.

“Would you... Would you make a soul pact with me?!”

A thousand-year vow made with the one you love.

An elven ritual that carved each other’s hearts into their souls.

Even if she made the pact with Karamir, it would last at most a few decades. She’d spend the rest of her long life alone, but that was okay. After all, hadn’t her soul already been bound in shackles?

At first, she thought her soul had been tainted. She thought she’d never experience a normal love. But with Karamir, none of that mattered!

…

It was silent.

Too silent. Was he that shocked?

Or maybe Karamir didn’t feel the same way? What if she had just imagined it all and misread the situation?

Arpia, consumed with worry, cautiously opened her eyes.

"...Huh?"

Karamir was lying face down on the table, fast asleep.

The same man who had drunk several bottles of strong liquor without flinching had passed out so quickly? Was he pretending to avoid answering?

Arpia was completely baffled, but it made sense. This time, Karamir hadn’t used any items.

Karamir had never had a particularly high tolerance for alcohol.

All the energy drained from Arpia in her disappointment.

She thought about waking him up and confessing again, but…

“I’ll do it tomorrow.”

There was still plenty of time.

Besides, she didn’t like the idea of saying something like that while being driven by drunkenness. She’d do it again when she was sober.

Watching Karamir sleep peacefully, Arpia reached out to play with his bangs, her expression soft.

In the still of dawn.

After playing with Karamir for a while, Arpia also drifted off to sleep. It had been such a joyful day, and the alcohol probably helped. Her face was bright, as if she were dreaming of something pleasant.

Meanwhile.

Karamir’s body, which had been lying still, began to stir.

Slowly, Karamir started to wake up.