The weight of her words still rang in Alex's ears.
"You humans are disgusting."
It wasn't just her voice—it was the hatred behind it. Cold, ancient, venomous. It was nothing like the comic.
"This is not the story I read," Alex whispered to himself, his breath still unsteady.
As he held the Elf girl pinned beneath him, he noticed something else: pain. Not his own—but hers. Her face twisted not just in fury, but discomfort. His grip had turned rough without him realizing.
Guilt flared. Quickly, he pulled his hand away from her jaw and tossed the arrow he'd been threatening her with aside. She took the chance immediately, scrambling to grab her bow from the mossy ground.
In one fluid motion, she aimed again, the arrow drawn, the tip fixed directly at his chest. Her long ears twitched slightly beneath strands of tangled silver hair. But her gaze didn't burn with the same intensity as before.
Alex didn't move. He didn't even raise his hands.
His face was calm, almost blank—like someone who'd already given up.
The Elf girl hesitated. Then, with a voice taut but cold, she spoke:
"I'll let you go this time. Never come back to this forest. Not ever. Not even a step."
She didn't wait for his reply. She turned sharply, the arrow still aimed at him for a few steps before she lowered it and began walking away.
But Alex, his heart pounding, called out.
"Do you know what the Old War means?"
She stopped dead.
Alex couldn't see her face, but her shoulders stiffened. Slowly, she turned—bowstring pulled tight again, trembling slightly now. Her eyes sharpened.
Without warning, she loosed the arrow.
Alex didn't flinch. He simply raised one hand.
Thwip— his fingers closed around the shaft mid-flight.
The Elf girl's eyes widened in disbelief.
Alex's voice was quiet, but clear:
"Guess I struck a nerve. Looks like the Elves really do have history with humans… one that still burns."
The Elf's bow lowered an inch. Then, the air around her shimmered.
Green light began to rise from the mossy ground—thin, glowing strands swirling gently upward like mist. The trees responded too, their leaves trembling as if touched by a breath of magic.
Her lips moved, whispering something not in any language Alex could understand. It wasn't loud—but it felt powerful. A prayer. An invocation. A warning.
A ripple passed through the air.
The wind changed.
Leaves stopped rustling. The forest fell unnaturally quiet.
Alex's skin prickled. Something was coming.
No—many things.
He turned to run.
Thump!
Pain exploded through his leg. He stumbled, falling to one knee.
An arrow—he hadn't even seen it coming. Blood soaked through his pants as the pain roared up his thigh.
He looked up. The Elf girl was gone.
His vision swam.
His body wavered.
Then—
Voices.
Faint, echoing, female.
"Mother, what should we do to him? Should we just kill him?"
Another voice—older, deeper.
"No. Bring him back. We need answers."
Then… nothing.
Darkness folded over him.
His last thought:
"This is how I end?"
.
.
.
.
Alex felt something press against his face. Cold. Wet. Heavy. He couldn't breathe.
His eyes snapped open—water. His head was submerged, his body arched backward over something hard. Strong hands pinned him down. He struggled. Panic flared. He was drowning.
Then, suddenly, his head broke the surface. He gasped, lungs desperate for air. Light seared his eyes as he coughed violently. His vision blurred as daylight flooded in.
Trees.
He blinked. Dozens of towering trees surrounded him, their trunks carved into homes. Rope bridges hung between them. He was on a raised stage, in the center of what looked like an elven village.
And then he felt it—the tight pull around his neck. A rope. A thick one. Tied to a beam above him.
He was about to be executed.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" Alex shouted, voice breaking.
An elf stepped forward without a word and drove his fist into Alex's stomach. The pain shot through him like a wave. He gasped, folding forward.
As Alex lifted his head, his gaze caught on a figure approaching the stage. Graceful. Commanding. Her gown shimmered like woven crystal leaves, and her long white hair flowed with each step.
The Elf Queen.
He recognized her instantly. She was the one from the comic—the one who fought alongside the Hero and helped defeat the Demon King. But something was off.
Those eyes… Alex thought. Colder. Sharper.
Those clothes… regal, yes—but not like how she looked in the comic. This isn't the same woman I read about.
Where's the King? Alex wondered. And why… why can't I remember their names?
The Queen climbed onto the platform and walked slowly to where he was bound. She lifted his chin with one hand, forcing him to meet her eyes.
"You," she said, voice soft but firm. "You are human. But you don't smell like them. You look… different."
Alex's heart stirred. She sees it. I'm not the same. Maybe she'll listen.
"I'm not like the others," he began, desperate.
But the Queen raised a hand in signal.
Alex's eyes followed—and saw an elf gripping a wooden lever.
No. No, no— he realized. The rope. The platform. He was seconds from being hanged.
"Please, just hear me out! I'm not from this wor—"
Pain exploded through him.
Electric. Violent. His body seized as if struck by lightning. His words stopped dead in his throat. He couldn't speak. Could barely think.
The Queen's eyes narrowed. She signaled again—this time, to hold.
"Not from this world?" she echoed. "Not from this war? Or are you… a demon?"
The pain vanished as suddenly as it had come. Alex slumped forward, sweat dripping from his brow. He looked up weakly.
"What… is happening in this world?" he whispered.
Then—darkness.
A void. No sound. No light. Just endless black.
Until the book appeared.
Everything, Everywhere, All at Once hovered before him, glowing faintly. Its pages turned on their own, flipping faster and faster—then stopped.
Words appeared on the parchment:
➤ "If you reveal that you are not from this world… If you explain the story to others… If you tell them they are inside a book…
You will suffer punishment for breaking the rules of a Storywalker."
Alex's chest tightened.
That pain… It was punishment.
His eyes fell on a single word glowing at the bottom of the page:
Storywalker.
The book snapped shut.
Then—he was pulled backward, as if grabbed by invisible hands. His body whipped through the void.
His eyes burst open.
He was back.
Tied to a wooden chair. His arms bound tightly. Breathing ragged.
A chamber. Tree walls. Crystal lanterns. Watching eyes.
In front of him, seated calmly at the head of a table—
The Elf Queen.
Beside her, several elven guards watched him carefully, their weapons drawn.
They were all waiting.
Waiting for him to wake up.
Chapter 5: Ended.