The dark elf village in the great forest was much like any other elf village.
It was worth noting that the race known as the wild elves had once been
regular elves. But after they migrated to the open prairie and adapted to
their new lives, it fundamentally changed their culture and physiques. Now
everyone considered them a separate species entirely.
What about the dark elves? They had always been part of the same race,
so by living in the same forest as regular elves, they had experienced no
serious physical or magical changes. There had never been any major
cultural differences, and their lives also revolved around elf trees. Like the
rest of their kind, dark elves mostly took ranger or druid classes.
The only real difference was the color of their skin and a minor custom
involving animal deterrents.
The dark elf village used odors to keep the beasts at bay. This was
precious knowledge from before they moved to this forest—knowledge
taught to them by the treants and other woodland dwellers. This involved
planting strongly scented herbs around the village, scattering potions that
animals loathed, and using druid spells—spells of limited range and
duration that took a considerable portion of their ability to cast.
These techniques proved applicable in the dense forest they now called
home, and the dark elf village was safer than just about anywhere in the
region save the capital itself.
The other elves knew nothing of this. If the knowledge spread, the
odor's effectiveness would be diminished. Animals—magical or otherwise
—may seem dumb at a glance, but that was far from the truth. If they
learned that prey always lay beyond that unpleasant odor, these same
techniques would put the whole village at risk. For that reason, the dark
elves could not share this knowledge with their distant relatives, however
cordial their relations were otherwise.
But on that fateful day, their much-vaunted safety proved to be but thin
ice.
In the distance, the roar of a wild thing echoed.
This alone was an everyday occurrence in the forest. At the break of
dawn or deep into the night, they were rarely spared these bestial bellows.
There were tiny creatures capable of unleashing the most prodigious
sounds. Hearing yet one more would not normally be cause for concern.
True, howls could be terrifying. There were magic beasts that could
enhance their roars in all manner of ways and leave their victims quivering
in fear. Other times it would provoke mindless panic, making them too
afraid to fight or even render them unconscious.
But when the source of those cries was far away, these afflictions were
no threat. A single distant howl suggested no danger; it was simply a part of
the ambient sounds of nature.
But this time, one dark elf put the village on high alert.
He was of ordinary height for his kind, but his limbs were lithe, and his
movements were polished in a way that conveyed the power contained
within—it gave him the impression of being larger than he actually was.
His even features and chill disposition were considered quite attractive
among the village ladies. Every dark elf in the forest knew this man. He
was an experienced ranger and carried the Blueberry name—one of the
original thirteen clans, central figures in the great migration.
Blueberry Egnia held a dark elf–style composite bow, one of the scant
few the village owned.
When the Becoa bloomed—an event that came once every three years—
the village held an archery contest, and only those who achieved truly
impressive results were allowed to carry these bows.
Dark elf fighters gathered swiftly in response to Egnia's call. They were
not members of an organized militia, merely rangers not currently out on a
hunt.
Surrounded by dubious looks, Egnia's ears twitched as he studied distant
sounds.
"I called you here for one good reason—that howl," he said, his voice
tense. "I've heard it before. It's the roar of an ursus. An adult, fully grown."
He felt a ripple of tension run through the crowd.
As it should. Not a dark elf in this forest, not even the youngest children,
could claim to not know of this beast and the threat it posed.
There were any number of dangerous monsters around this village, but
the ankyloursus stood at the very top.
An ursus cub was one thing, but challenging a fully grown adult was
tantamount to suicide. Arrows bounced off its natural armor, and one swipe
of its claws could cleave a dark elf in two. And given the discrepancy in
raw physical power, they stood little chance of fleeing successfully. A truly
terrifying creature.
"…I heard the roar myself, but how can you be sure it was an ursus?
Couldn't you be mistaken?" a woman asked, frowning.
She was one of three adjutants to the hunt master and a ranger who also
wielded a composite bow. Yet, her ears had been unable to discern what
species had roared in the distance.
And there were creatures—like the adorable-looking howling bird—
with skills that let them imitate the cries of all manner of monsters. Skills
like that were not uncommon in this forest.
That made it difficult to hear a distant cry and speak with any authority
about what creature was behind it. Her doubt was entirely reasonable. But
Egnia was the best ranger in the village. Not just by his skill with a bow but
by his honed senses and his knack for taking what they picked up and
extrapolating accurately. The woman's question was less rooted in a lack of
trust than a faint hope that this was simply not true.
"Sadly, I'm quite sure. The way that bellow makes your hairs stand on
end and threatens to overwhelm you—it is not a sound one simply forgets,
no matter how much time passes. It lingers in the crevices of my ears. I will
never forget it."
The next to speak was the hunt master himself.
Power in this village was held by the council of elders and the masters
of the hunt, apothecary, and ritual. There were three elders on the council,
so he was one of six village leaders.
Yet, his hands held no composite bow. His area of expertise leaned
toward trapping, but even with that in mind, his overall skills paled in
comparison to Egnia's. Still, he was undoubtedly a highly skilled ranger,
and though younger than Egnia, he was composed and well suited for his
role.
"If a grown ursus is howling, are we assuming something wandered into
its territory?"
Howls were generally reserved for calling out powerful foes or rivals of
their own species. Perhaps marking a victory or announcing their location.
Or maybe simply a mating call. Whatever the cause, the guess that its
domain had been violated was a sound one.
Ankyloursi were territorial creatures. Their domains widened as they
grew, but they rarely sought to relocate. It was almost unheard of for them
to hunt outside their territory. Much more likely that something had come to
them.
"Ugh, what a nightmare," the hunt master grumbled. "I dunno what
monster stumbled in, but let's hope they get themselves eaten and peace is
restored."
The dark elves all nodded. Egnia managed a strained smile.
By their nature, an ankyloursus left undisturbed would help keep the
forest threat level below a certain threshold. Everyone knew this.
"I agree with you there, but we can't be sure that's what happened. The
last time I heard one howl, it turned out to be two of them fighting. And that
battle raged far outside their territory."
"Um, sorry, Egnia, mind if ask something? I could barely hear it, but if
you say it was an ursus, I'm sure it was. But its territory must be pretty far
away, right? Why call this gathering?"
The speaker was the youngest man here, but he was hardly the only one
wondering.
"Mm, I don't know what's going on with this ursus, but something
clearly is happening. It might end up changing its territory, or a different
ursus will stake a claim to it—maybe something worse. Like…hmm."
He took a deep breath.
"Even if the ursus wins, if the intruder's strong enough to get away, it
might come running right at us. In other words, we need to be prepared for
anything—and maybe tomorrow we should send a party in that direction to
see what's up."
That made sense to everyone.
Nothing good came of missing a change in the forest or keeping things
to themselves. This was true for anyone who lived off the forest's bounty.
"Cancel all hunts for the day. Best stay out of the forest entirely. We've
got enough food stored?"
"We do. Felled a big one the other day. But best we relay this to the
ritual master quickly and have them start making fruit. No clue how long
it'll be before safety is assured."
"Then…yeah, better send word to the elders, too. We'll have them do
their part to ensure everyone's aware of what's going on and stays out of the
woods."
The ideas were coming out smoothly now. No one accused Egnia of
being paranoid. The forest provided, but it could also turn on them without
warning. Surviving here meant catching any hint of trouble and taking
every precaution.
Everyone had to know when the forest was dangerous.
"What about the other villages? Send word once we know more? Or let
them know something might be up right away?"
"Both sound like the right thing to do…and either could go terribly
wrong. Can we just dump that question on the elders?"
"Hold on—we oughtta make up our own minds first. If those
hardheaded fossils come out with some nonsense, a united front is the only
thing that'll stand a chance against them."
"…A bit harsh, there, Ganen. Sure, they ain't always flexible, but they
speak from experience. They're using that knowledge to pick the path they
think is safest."
The hunt master was talking to Plum Ganen, one of his adjutants.
"They—" Ganen turned red, his mouth opening—but Egnia clapped a
hand over it.
"Enough. Remember why I called you all here. Stay on topic. You know
how dangerous an ursus can be, right?"
After making sure Ganen had shut up, Egnia let go.
He was still sighing on the inside.
I let the conflict with the elders stand—it's not entirely a bad thing. But
they really need to learn to pick a time and a place.
"Fair. We can talk about those fossils later. Right now, we gotta focus on
the safety of the village. We can't have everyone on lookout."
"Even if we're just on high alert today, we'll have to arrange it in three
shifts. Especially if we're sending a party out tomorrow."
Everyone had pulled full days' worth of lookout shifts before, and if
they used a spell to eliminate fatigue, they'd be fine for the expedition, too.
But even the slightest lingering sluggishness could prove fatal near ursus
territory.
"Yeah. And—"
A second howl. Everyone turned toward it, looking grim.
"…That was a lot closer, right?" someone said, voicing everyone's fears.
Egnia nodded once, confirming them.
"Egnia, you suggested whatever intruded on its territory might come
running this way. Could it be giving chase?"
Ankyloursi had been known to fixate on a specific prey. If a creature
they were after bolted, they were liable to leave their territory and give
chase. Howling in pursuit seemed a bit strange at a glance, but that was a
less discomfiting possibility than, say, the ursus losing the fight and being
driven out of its territory.
"In that case, if it catches up, it'll eat its fill and our village stays safe. If
the prey comes running our way, do we shoot it down?"
"Don't! That'll just antagonize the ursus. Besides, we're talking about a
creature capable of fleeing an ursus; odds are it's pretty dang strong. If it
comes this way, we oughtta stick to shooing it away."
"No, wait. If the ursus gets anywhere near the village, we could be in
trouble. It might decide this is a prime feeding ground. We gotta send a few
out ahead and try and lead them both yonder."
Opinions were flying, but they didn't really have time for debate. Egnia
didn't want to speak out of turn but saw a need to bring order. He clapped
his hands once, drawing everyone's attention.
"Whatever's going on is highly unusual. We need to act fast. If the ursus
heads home, great. If it doesn't…say, it loses track of the prey once it's out
of its territory"—he scanned the crowd—"if that happens near the village,
then we're in for a very long, very bad day."
Everyone could guess what that meant, and they pursed their lips.
"It's vital we recruit the help of every villager, not just those standing
here. We're especially going to need the druids to be on board. And the
apothecary might have some poison that's effective against an ursus."
Beast-type monsters like the ursus were easier to handle with spells that
inflicted psychic effects (as opposed to using physical attacks). Their thick
hides, layers of fat, and corded muscle posed a formidable wall of flesh. But
where arrows could not penetrate, magic—like the fire elementals druids
liked to summon—would do damage on contact. They would certainly do a
lot more than a bunch of archers.
They'd likely never win a stand up-fight, but clever use of spells had
managed to eke out a victory again ursus-class monsters in the past.
"But if we gather round and discuss it, we'll just burn through more
time. Best we hold the reins. Or rather…" Egnia looked at the hunt master.
"Will you take charge?"
"Sigh…," the hunt master said, shaking his head. "I guess I have to.
Right, half of you, step up security—starting with the veteran rangers. The
other half should start making the rounds, warning everyone. When you're
done with that, guard those who can't fight. I'll leave the shift assignments
to you, Benelli. Ganen, you hit up the apothecary master. Ovey, you go to
the ritual master. I'll talk to the elders. Let's move! Go! Go! Go!"
Just as Egnia had been about to set off, the hunt master shot him a
pointed look. They ran together.
"I've been thinking this awhile, but you're the best the village has.
Shouldn't you be the master?"
"That would just make trouble. My name—well, the family thing means
the other villages have heard of me."
"That's an understatement."
Egnia ignored that. "That would just widen the rift between villages."
"Ugh, what a headache. Think it would make a difference if the elders
would back off a little?"
"Absolutely not. Nothing is ever going to make a difference. Every elder
could up and retire, and things would still keep getting worse. Arguably,
them being hardheaded has kept things in line."
"How do we fix it?"
"We don't. Not until something serious happens."
That shut the hunt master up.
"I'll lead the defense. The rest is yours."
"Yeah, I'm counting on you."
They split up, and Egnia took his place on the bridge nearest the howl.
He watched as word spread rapidly through the village—not just because
the rangers were looping people in but because this village was used to
monster threats and knew how to get news to everyone quickly.
Inside of ten minutes, the ritual master was leading efforts to make more
food with magic, and the apothecary master was putting a powerful poison
and the antidote in Egnia's hands.
Time passed slowly. Everyone was on edge.
No more ursus howls. The rangers were starting to relax—Egnia
included. His shoulders sagged, and he loosened his grip on the bow.
Maybe it caught its prey. Maybe it simply gave up and went home.
The hunt master joined him.
"We'll need to scout its territory just to be sure. You up to it?"
"I figured that job would come my way. On it."
Egnia was already working on a plan of action.
His eyes were locked in the direction of the ursus's territory, like the
beast itself stood before him—and then he thought he glimpsed something
through the trees.
"Chee-chee!"
His lips quivered, mimicking a bird cry. This was no ordinary sound—a
class he'd raised allowed him to generate a noise that instantly alerted all
allies in earshot. No one in range could be caught off guard or flat-footed
now.
No trace of relaxation remained.
Feeling their eyes on him, Egnia's gaze never waved. He jerked his chin
toward the shadow.
He hoped it had been a trick of his eyes.
He hoped he was jumping at shadows.
He hoped it was all a big mistake.
It had been a fleeting glimpse. Dozens of massive trees had somehow
swayed just enough for his gaze to penetrate that far back. It could very
well have been his imagination. But he was a highly skilled ranger, he had
very good eyes, and his hopes were soon dashed.
"…An ankyloursus."
The word spilled from someone's lips, echoing loud in every ear.
They could all see it now.
That massive bulk lumbering through the trees.
The forest destroyer—an ankyloursus.
But—
"Y-yo, Blueberry! They…aren't that big, right? Do ursi get this big?!"
The young ranger swallowed hard.
There were trees in the way, and it was still far out, so they couldn't
make out the full scale of it. But the trees themselves were a point of
comparison. It was too big. Too massive.
"…Sumomo, the ursus I saw was not this big. It wasn't fully grown.
This one could have grown faster or be a rare specimen or—" Egnia's voice
broke. "It's a lord."
A shiver ran through the air.
If a monster was larger than normal, had visual differences like unusual
fur color, or had access to unexpected skills, the village called it a rare
specimen. But some managed to evolve into far more powerful creatures,
becoming the pinnacle of their species—and occasionally their combat
prowess would change everything. For that reason, these individuals were
referred to as lords.
If this ankyloursus really was a lord, then it was far stronger than a
typical one.
A normal ankyloursus would be bad enough, but if the whole village
banded together, they might be able to fend it off. If they were dealing with
a lord, then any conventional tactics would get them all killed.
"No! I mean, I heard there was a lord, but it was supposed to be way to
the north!" The ranger was leaning forward, desperation evident, but
keeping his voice low, for fear of antagonizing the ursus. "What's happened
to Aju?"
Aju was another dark elf village, with a lord living nearby. Lords were
not that common, so this was likely the Aju lord.
"Think it took 'em out?"
If a lord shifted its territory and moved toward their village, someone in
Aju should have come to warn them. But no one had. Yet, here stood the
lord.
A silence settled over them. Beyond where they'd heard that first howl
—was Aju itself.
If it already fed there, then it knows we're prey. It tracked our scent this
far?
No one dared say it, but they were all thinking the same thing.
The tension was taking a dark turn.
Even if it had developed a taste for dark elves in Aju, it might not yet
know there was fresh meat here.
Ankyloursi were picky eaters. They could eat anything but had clear
preferences. If the dark elves suited its palate, they'd have to abandon the
village, and even then, it still might give chase. They'd have to lead it away
from the village somehow.
But there was room for doubt.
"We can't be sure Aju's gone," Egnia said. Eyes turned to him. "We've
had an ursus living nearby ourselves—the one I spotted years ago. If the
lord came here directly from Aju, then it would have crossed that ursus's
territory. We'd have heard two howls. I think the ursus we already had just
grew up and became a lord."
Sure, it was possible this was Aju's lord. If the lord and the local ursus
were of different genders, they might not have fought. Even if the two had
bumped into each other, one of them may not have bothered roaring—likely
the lord.
But whether Aju still existed was beside the point. All they could spare a
thought about now was the lord coming toward them and what to do about
it. What was their best course of action?
"Fighting a lord is suicide. We'll have to summon some elementals and
buy time for everyone to run."
"We can't do that! If we're in the woods, we're as good as dead. If we
dump all the meat we have stored, maybe it'll eat its fill and be satisfied."
"Yeah, ursi are like bears. They love honey! Spread some on and hand it
over—"
Then the earth, the air, the forest, the very cores of their bodies shook
from the force of a howl. It was no longer hidden behind any trees.
The ankyloursus lord strode slowly toward them.
The dark elves' breathing grew fast and shallow. Every mind went
blank. Every idea they'd had fell by the wayside.
They could feel its strength on their skins and shrank in on themselves.
And not because that howl had any psychic effect. It hadn't imparted any
supernatural terror or exerted any mind control.
This was simply the effects of unshakable conviction that they were up
against a vastly superior life-form. The discrepancy in their powers was far
too great, and they were helpless before it.
Shit.
The dark elves were certain of the tragedy approaching and ready to
give up. But it was too soon for that.
Egnia roared.
"GO!!"
This cry was half to force himself into action.
"G-g-go where?" a girl yelped.
"Anywhere!" Egnia yelled back, like the swing of a machete.
"Y-you don't even have a place in mind?!"
"Then who does?!"
"Don't— Look, I got no damn clue what the right answer is here! But
we've gotta do something! Standing around won't accomplish anything! At
least try one of those ideas—"
Was it trying to scare them? The ursus lord was moving awfully slowly.
Its head was down low, sniffing the flowers around the village, as if
trying to catch a whiff of dark elves from them. The way it moved was
almost…was it weird to call it reluctant? Egnia almost felt sorry for it. Was
it injured, sick, poisoned? He almost dared hope so, but he knew stressful
situations made you want to deny the plain truth.
Should I shoot it? Not much point worrying about making it angry now.
It's clearly coming to us. Then we should hit it first—it's in range. A clean
shot might get everyone else going. And if it's focused on me, maybe I can
lead it away— Wait, there must be something…
"Oil," Egnia whispered.
The rangers around them looked briefly puzzled but caught on quickly.
"Right! If we drop oil on it, the fire elementals will light it right up!"
"At that size, it can't dodge the oil easily."
"We'll have to summon water elementals, too, keep the flames from
spreading."
They didn't have much oil. It wasn't that hard to get, but uses were
limited, so they didn't have a large stock.
"I'll go," a dark elf yelled and ran off toward the center of town. The
druids manned the stash, and he'd have to brief them. If they were still
oblivious to the crisis and wasting mana on food, that would be bad.
Then another howl shook the air. Like the last, it proved how
outmatched they were, but their dander was up, and they didn't let it shake
them.
"Huh," a dark elf said, puzzled.
Egnia was not the only one boggling at this, then. Every ranger was.
By their nature, every ankyloursus would always charge the moment
they were in sight—yet this one didn't. If they didn't know better, they
would've thought its heart wasn't in this. Maybe once it became a lord, its
goals and behavior changed.
As they watched, it rose onto its hind legs, howling again.
Making itself look big to intimidate a foe—a common tactic with wild
animals. That made sense, but its failure to attack didn't.
This was no mere animal. It was a magical beast, an ursus lord—it had
to be fairly smart. Yet, even with clearly inferior beings in view, it was just
threatening them.
And what was the point of all these howls?
"Uh, is this practice hunting for its young?" someone asked.
Egnia nodded. That would explain this baffling behavior.
Animal parents would take their young out on hunts and have them
watch, learning the tricks to overcome each type of prey. Otherwise, the
young would have no idea how to catch food and starve soon after leaving
the nest. Perhaps the ursus lord's weird behavior was an attempt to teach a
hidden cub about hunting dark elves.
"In that case, maybe we should teach it that dark elves can lay down the
hurt? Teach the kid we're a threat? Better than it learning we're edible."
"…If we kill the cub, the lord will go wild, no doubt."
"If we give the cub the honey-covered meat…it won't be fooled. This is
hunting practice. It wants fresh meat. But might be worth a shot anyway?"
Suddenly, the ursus lord's nose twitched, and it charged toward the dark
elves.
That earlier reluctance had vanished, yet Egnia still sensed no real
hostility. Instead, there was something…else. Egnia's eyes flicked over the
ursus lord's shoulder, sensing the desperation that was unique to cornered
beasts—
Of course there's nothing there. For one, what could corner an ursus
lord?
"What in the world is going on?"
Egnia wasn't the only one confused.
They couldn't figure out what this ankyloursus lord was after. Maybe
they could never hope to understand the king of the forest, but he'd never
faced any beast where his ranger experience and instincts were so
thoroughly useless.
Confused or not, the dark elves were sprinting back along the bridges.
The ursus was charging at them, and that fact wasn't going anywhere. If
they slowed for a second, they'd wind up in its belly.
The lord reached the base of the deserted elf tree and stood up once
more.
It was enormous.
So big, it easily reached the height of the bridge.
A massive arm swung down.
The trunk of the elf tree exploded, and the impact shook the entire tree.
The bridges between the trees thrashed, bucking so hard, the dark elves
on them had to cling for dear life.
The outer elf trees were particularly sturdy. Spell after spell had urged
their growth, and scads of nutrients had made them as thick as they were
tall. Trees so durable, any monster attack would simply bounce off—
reduced to this, in the blink of an eye. Proof the ursus lord was far more
powerful than anything this village had ever seen.
"Damn monster…!"
"I mean, we figured as much, but holy—!"
"No time to be impressed! What now? How do we minimize
casualties?"
A single swing had been enough to make people lose hope.
Even getting grazed by that would be deadly. None of them could do
anything in the face of that power. What hope was there?
The lord just kept hitting the same spot, like a mad thing.
This was far too strange, but it didn't seem like a spell had driven it
berserk. Was it possible the ursus had something against the tree itself?
Every now and then, it would stop, glance over at the dark elves, and then
resume its onslaught.
That doesn't seem like something you'd teach.
He also couldn't see any cubs.
Egnia glanced at the arrows in the quiver at his hip.
Did a dark elf take a shot at it? Is that why it's enraged by the sight of
the elf trees?
The elf trees had no scent, but maybe that was just to the dark elves, and
monsters with superior noses—like an ankyloursus—could detect
something. In that case, abandoning the village should be enough to keep
them safe.
No, I doubt it would be that easy. All this rampaging'll make it hungry…
and then it might follow our scent. Should we give it the honeyed meat and
pray that's enough? The way it keeps looking at us is unsettling. Like it's
observing our response…
And every time it glanced their way, it hit the elf tree again.
"Is it…trying to keep us here?"
"So another one can circle round behind? Why would it need to? It's an
ursus lord!"
"If its goal is to drive us out of the village…like, into the waiting jaws of
another ursus."
"Never heard of an ursus hunting like that, but…not like any of this
makes sense otherwise. I guess we've just gotta scatter in all directions?
Each of you haul some meat with you and hope it'll settle down while it's
eating?"
"—What else can we do?"
"Don't give me that look. I'm not saying abandon the village. We can
always come back when the ursus is gone."
It was a hollow attempt at placating everyone, but no one really believed
those words.
The ursus lord was still scraping away at the elf tree's trunk like it
planned to make this its new territory.
In which case their only option would be to abandon everything and run
for their lives.
Spells could make elf trees grow rapidly. But getting to this size did not
happen overnight. Their lives revolved around these trees, and losing them
meant losing their entire livelihoods. They'd have to hope other villages
would offer them shelter until they could grow a new grove, and who knew
what sacrifices that would involve.
"Okay, let's drop some honeyed meat on the ursus and evacuate the
village," the hunt master said. Everyone nodded. "Sumomo, Prune, start
spreading honey on the meat. Everyone else, stay put and make sure the
lord doesn't move farther into the village."
Two young rangers raced off toward the pantry.
One elf tree was already wrecked, so the ursus lord moved to another,
swinging its claws—and then it stopped dead.
Before they could even wonder why, it turned.
Toward the center of town.
"Don't let it!!"
Egnia grabbed two arrows from his quiver and nocked them. Out of the
corner of his eye, he saw the other rangers flinch and follow suit.
He had a skill that let him shoot two shafts at once.
Both arrows struck the ursus lord's bulk and bounced off.
Several more arrows followed.
A few hit the beast's face or legs, bouncing harmlessly away. Several
others merely hit the dirt around the great beast. They hadn't missed. It
might be on the move, but given the sheer size of it, it was an easy target.
These arrows weren't intended to do damage.
They were intended to draw its attention, buy some more time.
But the ursus lord didn't even slow down. It barely glanced their way.
"What the—?!"
This thing's an apex predator! Why would it just ignore an attack from
vastly inferior creatures? Does it not realize how feeble we are? It's like it's
after something… Has it attacked a dark elf village before? Does it know
we've gathered the weak and the young in the center of town? Is it trying to
flush them out? If an ursus lord is ignoring us and going for weaker prey,
could that be because it learned to hunt that way when it was still weak?
If it had always hunted this way successfully, that would explain the
strange actions. Even if it had now gained the strength worthy of a lord, it
would repeat what was proven to work.
Maybe the assault on the elf tree had been designed to gather everyone
who could fight around it. That would also explain its odd behavior.
Even that was likely just a carryover from successful earlier hunts. But
even if this speculation was right, Egnia still had only one option.
Do everything he could to avoid letting the lord reach those kids.
"After it!" the hunt master cried. There was no need—everyone was
already off the bridges, racing across the ground.
Following the bridges between the elf trees was hardly a straight line.
Down here, the ursus lord could easily reach them—but it was a risk that
had to be taken. And—
Egnia glared at the lord in front of him.
—If the lord turns and attacks us, that counts as buying time.
For an ursus of this size, running through a village—with its densely
packed elf trees—was not easily done. Its natural running speed was far
superior—but it wasn't gaining on them. The fastest of the dark elves—
Egnia—was steadily closing in.
He could hear screams up ahead.
No one had been attacked yet.
They'd just seen the lord coming.
Damn it!
There was a "clearing" in the center of town, but not on the ground. It
was fixed to the branches of the surrounding trees, like a tray placed in
midair.
When the ursus lord reached that area, it reared up, spreading those
massive arms and bellowing once more.
This was even louder than the previous howls and more than enough to
freeze everyone to the spot. The clearing might not be on the ground, but
this beast was more than big enough to reach it.
The roar alone told every living being in earshot that this creature was
far superior—and the sheer bulk of it struck awe in the minds of all who
saw it. Those who lacked real combat skills to begin with—trainee rangers
and children—could no longer move at all.
Egnia tossed his bow aside, leaving his hands free.
That composite bow was a dark elf treasure. Many of the components
that went into it could not be found in this forest. They'd been gathered in
the lands from whence they came. They were running low on materials to
repair it and could never make another. Treating it like this might earn him
a tongue-lashing from the elders, but he didn't have time to set it down
gently.
"Raghhhhhhhh!"
Egnia yelled his own cry, desperate to get the lord's attention and trying
to steady himself. He jumped onto the beast, clinging to its side, using its
hardened fur to clamber rapidly up the side.
"Grrr!"
The lord bucked and twisted, trying to fling Egnia off.
For a moment, his body floated, and the centrifugal force threatened to
tear him away—but somehow, he hung on. He scrambled up behind the
head, and it thrashed even harder.
He'd expected this. A dark elf would do the same if a bee landed on
their neck.
Clinging to the lord's neck fur, it was all he could do to keep hold.
He wasn't sure why it hadn't tried rolling or simply sliced him away
with those claws, but that was a stroke of luck, and he was grateful for it.
Endure.
A blur at the edge of his vision—the villagers, some of them children,
were standing still and watching. Suddenly furious, he yelled, "What are
you doing? Run!"
He didn't want to speak, but he had to. And the lord reacted to the
sound, bucking even harder. An arrow flew in, trying to make it flinch. A
skilled marksman could easily avoid hitting Egnia, even in these
circumstances.
But this beast's flesh was so thick, even Egnia's shot hadn't pierced it.
The new shaft failed to harm the lord at all. And if they couldn't even
scratch the skin, the poison coating the barb would do no good at all.
Egnia tightened his grip. He could not afford to get flung off now.
After a grueling span of time, the ursus lord finally began to slow. All
that rampaging may have worn it out, but it was still a lord. It had
endurance in spades. It would soon recover and be back in action.
Egnia's hands felt numb. He would not weather the next wave.
This was his last shot.
One hand reached for his hip and drew a dagger.
He scrambled up within reach of the ursus's weak spots—the eyes and
nose. The neck itself had spots without armor. But those still had thick hide
and plenty of flesh beneath. The dagger's length would do no real damage
there.
But then Egnia's body wafted upward.
As he'd released a hand, the ursus lord had shaken itself extra hard. It
had taken everything Egnia had to stay put at all, and with his grip halved—
he could not maintain his hold.
The world spun. He heard a scream.
Shi—
Realizing what had happened, he tossed the dagger away, reaching for
his hip—and the little pouch that hung there.
He slammed into the ground. The impact knocked the air out of him. He
couldn't breathe.
There was pain, but the panic overwhelmed it.
Sprawled on the ground, Egnia looked up—and the ursus lord's eyes
met his.
He couldn't move.
The sight of the lord looming over him left him stiff as a board.
Any move could spell his doom.
He felt the beast's breath on him. It smelled weirdly good. Surprising—
no, it was downright astonishing.
Egnia almost laughed aloud.
He didn't think. He didn't hesitate. His mind had long since been made
up.
Come after me. Take one bite of me, and I'll make you swallow this, too.
Getting eaten by an ursus lord would be a horrible way to go. It would
teach the monster that dark elves were food.
But what if he could convince it dark elves tasted bad?
He loosened the nozzle on the pouch.
This was the poison the apothecary had handed him. Given the ursus
lord's size, it was hardly a fatal dose.
But even if he couldn't kill it, the poison would taste beyond foul.
When its maw yawned open, he'd stick his arm out and fling the pouch
in as hard as he could.
If it clawed him first, he was done.
Those jaws would likely claim more than just his arm.
Egnia was ready.
He'd been ready.
He'd lived for this village, and he would die for it.
This was why he'd always been stronger than the others.
Come on, do it! Lemme prove the dark elves here are gonna make you
puke!
The ursus lord looked away.
Why?!
The beast howled, its tail snapped, its arms swung, lashing out at the elf
trees all around. Like it couldn't even see Egnia, but he knew it had. They'd
made eye contact!
"Egnia, now!"
He'd been too thrown to act, but another ranger's cry brought him back
to his senses.
Being eaten was a fate he'd accepted—but not what he actually wanted
to happen.
But was escape possible? The ursus lord seemed to have little interest in
him, but he saw it stealing glances his way. Was it after something else?
Is running the right choice here?
He had no idea. He couldn't read this bear at all.
As Egnia's confusion peaked, an arrow came out of nowhere, striking
the elf tree right before the beast's eyes.
The snap was high, so clear it gave him goose bumps—and the sound
spread out like ripples on a pond. Every dark elf—and the ursus lord—
ceased all motion. Like cold water had been splashed in every face.
And a cute little voice rang out.
"Um, that's enough!"
The world sparkled.
A dark elf child slipped out from behind an elf tree. Not one from this
village. He wasn't sure if they were a really cute boy or a really cute girl—
no, on closer inspection, this was an astonishingly cute girl. Before he knew
it, a single word had slipped from Egnia's lips.
" Exquisite."
How could any girl be so lovely? Her beauty was far beyond the jewellike glitter of a dewdrop falling from a leaf and catching the light of the
morning sun.
To his eye, she seemed to glow from within. Was that why the world
suddenly seemed to glitter?
The gleam of life itself wafted off her. Even at this distance, the aroma
was intoxicating.
Egnia's nose twitched.
He was trying to fill his lungs with that scent, absorb it into his blood,
and send it to the far corners of his body.
What a fragrance! Every cell in his body was dancing with delight.
The most beautiful girl in the world, and in her hands—on which she
wore gloves, hiding her fingers from view, such a tragedy—she held…
"Ohhh…"
…a bow of astonishing quality. The craftsmanship was beyond compare,
done not for display but for raw power, greater than anything Egnia had
ever seen. All his ranger instincts told him so.
But that was of no consequence.
The fact that the girl held a bow far larger than her frame only served to
enhance her appeal.
Everything about her was attractive.
She was radiant.
"Now, now, monster. Go away! I'm not gonna let you rampage
anymore."
Her voice was adorable.
Far too cute.
A veritable delight.
He'd heard it a moment before but had been too distracted by her
appearance to savor it. This time, her tinkling voice finally permeated his
mind.
He let it echo back and forth, goose bumps rising and falling as it did.
The most beautiful girl he'd ever seen poked the ursus lord in the nose.
Why were those fingers not turned toward him?
Alas.
For shame.
Woe that those eyes were not for him.
"Grrr…"
The ursus lord growled.
It wasn't to threaten prey—this was a growl of fear.
The lord saw the world's most beautiful girl as a threat.
Of course it did.
Anyone who saw a girl this lovely would shrivel up at once. As if in the
presence of a goddess!
Perhaps some would assume a beast had no capacity to appreciate
aesthetics. But those were the thoughts of a fool.
Egnia refuted the very concept.
And he had the grounds to do so.
Magical beasts with great power were beautiful. It stood to reason that a
girl this beautiful must command power beyond compare.
Yes. There was absolutely nothing strange about that.
The ursus lord made to move—and Egnia's eyes widened.
The most beautiful girl in the world already had her bow drawn.
He had not taken his eyes off her since the moment she had graced them
with her presence. He was quite sure he had not blinked once in all that
time. Yet, he had not seen her nock that arrow.
No, why would he have?
This girl's beauty had given birth to the world itself. This feat was trivial
in comparison.
Egnia was entirely convinced.
There was a flash—
"Graaahhh!"
and the ursus lord screamed.
He didn't give a damn where that arrow had gone. He wasn't about to
take his eyes off this picture of loveliness for a single instant.
Mouths around him were speaking.
A cacophony.
Silence! What if you talk over the exquisite beauty before me?!
All other sounds were but a distraction from her dulcet tones.
The ursus lord's footsteps retreated.
Egnia did not care.
Shut up! If I miss her words because of you, there'll be hell to pay!
"…Are you okay?"
The most beautiful girl in the world spoke to him.
To him. To nobody else but him.
To him!
The thrill left him stiff as a board, incapable of speech. His mind would
not budge, and he could not find any words within. He wasn't even
breathing straight. Acting like this was rude beyond compare. Lack of
oxygen might have his thoughts in chaos, but he strained every fiber in his
being and forced out the perfect word.
"A…dor…able!"
"...Mm? Huh? …What?"
The world's loveliest girl frowned. That expression was beyond
charming, too. He was certain she was incapable of making any expression
that wasn't.
"S-sorry, looks like the ursus lord left Egnia too scared to speak
straight."
"Huh."
She spared no further words to the hunt master's excuses. This at least
brought him somewhat back to earth, and he turned red with shame.
"Eep! Anks…sho…!"
"............? Oh, thanks for shooting that arrow?"
The rangers around them caught up—this was the first thing they should
have said to the world-class beauty before them. Dark elves began dropping
down out of the trees, bowing before her grace and expressing their
humblest gratitude.
"Yeah, sure, you're welcome."
No.
This is all wrong.
He was not thanking her for saving him—he was thanking her for
revealing herself before them.
"Mmmph!"
"…Seriously, are you all right? Did you hit your head when you got
flung off? Better see a priest…or is a druid here? That beast might have had
some weird skill."
"Yeah, he definitely hit his head. Better carry Egnia away."
They put him on a stretcher made from two ropes. He felt no pain from
the fall, but it was highly likely the excitement of facing a girl this beautiful
had simply dulled it. In extreme situations, people often forgot all about the
pain they were in. So why would divine loveliness not have the same
effect?
He would rather stay by her side. Breathe the air she breathed. But if he
was obviously injured, that might cause her pain. Anyone this adorable
must have an equally kind heart. It was his duty to avoid causing her any
distress.
Egnia's rational mind won the argument with his desires, and he allowed
himself to be carried away.
His eyes on that portrait of loveliness as she chatted with the hunt
master, he thought to himself…
My heart is beating so fast… Is this…love?!
Blueberry Egnia, 254 years old. This was the first time he had ever
fallen in love.