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{Ember's POV}
"Atseria Guoun Sek!" I finished chanting, releasing a blazing fire beam through my small magic staff.
The fiery spell shot forward, striking the horde of Killer Ants and obliterating them in a massive explosion of heat and light.
It was exhilarating—utterly thrilling—to wipe out a swarm of monsters several times stronger than me, all while maintaining concurrent chanting and engaging them in close combat.
I was pushing my limits further and further, performing feats that only the truly gifted—those prodigies who stand at the very top of the world's powerhouses—could normally accomplish.
One in a million, that's what such people were called.
Yet even that wasn't enough for me.
As someone once said, "Keep pushing through your limits!" I took that to heart.
I had to do the same.
Not to mention for some reason I felt unease whenever I thought about not being able to grow stronger.
And so, as always, another reckless plan was already brewing in my mind—one that would surely make everyone around me question my sanity once again.
"I want to fight an Orc. In close combat," I said firmly, declaring my intention without hesitation.
Noel immediately slapped his face in disbelief, while Maya, my magic instructor, looked both nervous and horrified at my words.
Riveria, who was accompanying us on this expedition, turned her sharp gaze toward me, glaring with visible frustration.
"Ember! It seems you're getting far too spoiled and overconfident!" she scolded sharply.
"Do you seriously think engaging in close combat with an Orc is a good idea?! Are you out of your mind?"
Her tone was a mixture of anger and genuine concern.
"It is dangerous indeed, sister," I admitted, standing my ground.
"But I've learned Concurrent Chanting, I've mastered Swordsmanship, and I've become an excellent Archer. Now it's time for me to combine everything—to put all of it together."
Riveria gritted her teeth in frustration, her voice trembling as she snapped back at me.
"Shut up! We almost lost you!!" she cried out, her composure breaking as tears welled up in her eyes.
"Please… don't do anything reckless like this again," she pleaded, her voice soft yet desperate.
And there I stood, feeling like the worst kind of bastard—because my decision had already been made from the very beginning.
My answer was set in stone, and nothing she said could change it.
"Forg— Right, you don't need to forgive me, sister, but I will still do this," I said, giving a gentle bow.
My reply, instead of calming her, only fueled her anger even more.
Taking a deep breath, I straightened my posture and spoke with authority, my tone turning cold and formal.
"In the Royal name of Alf, I, Ember Ljos Alf, command you all to follow me and permit me to hunt an Orc in close combat!" I declared firmly.
Everyone around me gasped in shock, stunned by what I had just done.
I had invoked my Royal Authority, something I rarely used, and by doing so, my words were now considered absolute.
None of them could openly defy my command without committing an act of rebellion.
The weight of my words lingered in the air like a heavy fog.
I turned my gaze toward Riveria, feeling a deep sense of sadness tightening my chest.
She was usually the calm and collected one—poised, rational, and composed even in the most chaotic moments.
To outsiders, she appeared cold and detached, a perfect image of royal discipline.
But with me and our sister, she was always different—gentler, more open, even clingy at times.
That was the Riveria I knew.
However, her anger now was justified, painfully so.
It had only been, what, two months since I recovered from that incident?
Two months since I barely escaped death?
In that short time, I had thrown myself into training, mastering Concurrent Chanting, refining my Swordsmanship, and perfecting my Archery.
Yet, here I was again, rushing straight into another life-threatening situation.
Even someone as composed as Riveria had every reason to lose her patience with me.
I sighed deeply, feeling a mix of guilt and determination.
I needed to fight... To get strong.
Though I wondered myself, why I needed to be that strong?
There were still a few Orcs that had slipped into the nearby forest, and we already knew their approximate location.
Those monsters were the perfect targets for my reckless plan.
I decided to deal with them quickly and end this before Riveria could stop me again.
I mounted my horse, adjusting the reins and preparing to leave, when I suddenly heard my sister's cold, cutting voice behind me.
"If this is how you want to play, then fine," she said.
I turned to look at her.
The tears she had shed moments ago were gone, wiped away completely.
Her face had transformed into the expression she wore when addressing outsiders—cold, composed, and unshakable.
That alone told me how furious she truly was beneath that calm exterior.
Her next words confirmed my thoughts beyond any doubt.
"In the Royal name of Alf, I, Riveria Ljos Alf, hereby declare my younger brother's decree overruled! If anyone dares to assist him in this reckless act, it shall be considered an act of treason against the Royal Family itself!" she announced, her voice echoing powerfully across the clearing.
Every Elf present froze on the spot.
Those who had already mounted their horses looked at her with wide eyes, completely bewildered.
None of them dared to move.
They didn't know whose command to follow anymore.
I was their Prince, the one destined to become King one day, yet Riveria was their Princess, older than me, and her royal status technically gave her higher authority in such situations.
Between the two of us, her words held more immediate weight.
I couldn't help but give a wry smile at the absurdity of it all.
'Drama never ends, huh?' I thought to myself.
If this had happened three months ago, my sister wouldn't have gone to such extreme lengths to stop me.
But ever since the day I nearly lost my life, it seemed that her concern for me had only grown stronger—perhaps even too strong.
Seeing the confused and uncertain expressions on everyone's faces, I let out a long, tired sigh before finally speaking.
"You win, sister," I said in a calm but defeated tone.
Then, turning to the gathered elves who were still frozen in hesitation, I continued, "Everyone, you heard her command. She is older than me, and therefore her authority overrules mine. Follow her orders."
The moment those words left my mouth, I could see visible relief spread across their faces.
Their tense shoulders relaxed, and some even exhaled audibly.
It was clear that none of them wanted to risk their lives by following me into such a reckless fight, nor did they wish to accidentally disobey a royal command.
For them, this was the safest outcome possible.
Brazen?
No, not at all—if anything, I had to applaud my sister for her quick and critical thinking.
She didn't just act out of emotion; she calculated her response perfectly.
She had outmaneuvered me with royal precision.
I couldn't even be mad about it.
That's the kind of intellect and decisiveness expected from someone destined to become one of the Big Three of the Loki Familia in the future.
It was impressive, really, though a little annoying for me at the moment.
In the end, we had no choice but to return to the fortress.
When word of what had happened began to spread among the others, it caused a small ruckus within the ranks.
Whispers filled the halls—rumors about the prince and princess arguing, about royal decrees being issued and revoked.
Of course, no one dared to confront either of us directly.
After all, who in their right mind would even think about interfering in the affairs of the Royal Family?
That would be nothing short of suicidal.
Still, my sister was being naive if she actually believed this would be enough to stop me.
She should have known better by now.
I couldn't help but grin to myself as my horse galloped along the dirt tracks leading out of the fortress.
The orcs were scheduled to be exterminated tomorrow, which meant I didn't have much time left.
Fortunately, it was still afternoon, giving me a solid window of time to act—and to hunt.
Now, how exactly did I manage to escape the fortress under everyone's watchful eyes?
Simple.
I disguised myself.
I covered my entire body with a full set of a soldier's armor—helmet and all—hiding my identity completely.
Soldiers frequently went in and out of the fortress to maintain patrols and ensure the safety of nearby rock outposts, so no one thought much of it when I passed through the gates.
To them, I was just another guard on routine duty.
A soldier leaving the fortress was such a normal sight that it didn't draw even the slightest suspicion.
After all, soldiers often headed out into the wild for patrols, monster hunts, or to gather resources.
It was one of the easiest disguises to use, and thanks to that, I was able to slip out without raising any alarms.
Once I reached the forested area near the orcs' reported location, I quickly dismounted from my horse and began removing the heavy armor I had been wearing.
The weight was suffocating, especially for an elf like me.
Elves wearing full, heavy armor—it was almost laughable.
Under normal circumstances, it would have been unthinkable.
If not for the constant threat from monsters and the fact that our magic wasn't as overwhelmingly powerful as in those so-called isekai worlds, no elf would even consider donning such cumbersome gear.
But desperate times called for desperate measures.
After stripping off the heavy armor, I equipped myself with my usual light armor—designed for mobility and silent movement.
I adjusted my sword at my side, checked my bow and arrows, and took a deep breath to focus my mind.
It was time.
I was ready to engage the orcs in battle.
I moved swiftly toward the nearest tree, using its trunk as cover while scanning the area carefully.
My sharp elven eyes soon caught sight of several footprints in the soil—fresh ones.
The orcs' tracks.
I crouched low, moving quickly and quietly, following the trail deeper into the forest.
Using the natural shadows of the trees and the thick underbrush as my cover, I advanced through the forest with practiced precision.
Every step was deliberate, every sound minimized.
The forest was silent except for the faint rustle of leaves under my boots.
After several minutes of cautious tracking, I finally found them—the orcs I had been searching for.
'Orcs,' I thought, gripping my sword.
Nervous?
I was indeed nervous — my hands trembled slightly — but I was ready to engage them.
Still, I wasn't going to rush in without taking every precaution I could.
I moved quickly and climbed up into a tree, careful not to make a sound, and reached back for the bow on my back.
I had prepared an arrow quill and carried several arrows with me.
Every arrow I carried was poisoned, and that poison could finish off an orc within two minutes so long as it struck flesh.
Even a shallow scratch that broke the orc's skin would be enough for the toxin to take effect; they would die in a few minutes either way.
It wasn't foolproof, far from it, but it was the best safety measure I could devise under the circumstances.
Without hesitation I nocked three arrows on the string — there were four orcs in sight — and positioned myself where I could wait patiently for them to move into range and pass under my aim.
When they did, I let the bowstring go.
Swish.Swish.Swish.
The arrows cut through the air and struck true.
One orc roared as one of my arrows pierced its eye; another howled when an arrow found its throat; the third went down with a brutal crack to the head.
Immediately after loosing those three, I nocked another arrow and released it at the remaining orc.
The shaft pierced its skull, and the creature bellowed in pain and agony.
Orcs have incredible strength — if they collided with you they could turn a person into something like meat paste — but they also have clear shortcomings.
Their sense of smell and hearing are poor, meaning they often miss subtle threats.
Their vision is the best of their senses, but even that is not extraordinary, and their movement is slow.
Essentially, they are like walking meat tanks, powerful but blunt and predictable.
I planned to take full advantage of those limitations.
I climbed down from the tree as quietly as I could, the ground absorbing my weight, and began my chant in a low, focused voice: "Asf inem Ghir Deima…" With that I dashed through the underbrush to draw the attention of any survivors or reinforcements.
The orcs released a primal roar of anger and lumbered toward me, blades raised and fists ready.
I met their charge with a grin, ready for the fight I had engineered.
I had managed to put enough distance between myself and the orcs, giving me just enough room to prepare for my next move.
Without wasting another second, I charged at the first one.
It was unarmed, relying solely on its brute strength, and swung its massive fist toward me with frightening force.
I narrowly dodged the attack, feeling the rush of air brush past my face, and immediately countered by slicing through its thick arm.
My blade cut cleanly, severing its hand.
The orc howled in pain, its massive frame staggering backward.
Before it could recover, it threw another wild punch with its remaining fist.
I leapt to the side, barely avoiding the blow, and swung my sword once more—this time cleaving downward from its pig-like nose all the way through to its grotesque, bloated belly.
Blood spilled violently as it collapsed backward, clutching its wounds and screaming in agony.
I didn't hesitate.
Moving quickly, I thrust my sword straight into its throat, piercing through flesh and muscle until the light in its eyes faded completely.
The creature slumped lifelessly to the ground.
"Emeri oong Ashei For Vitera…" I continued my chant under my breath, not allowing myself even a moment of celebration.
The second orc had already reached me, roaring in fury.
I quickly stepped back, creating some distance, but it suddenly lowered its body and charged straight at me like a raging bull.
For a moment, I was caught off guard by its unexpected burst of speed, but instinct took over.
I darted to the side, using the dense trees around us to my advantage.
The orc's large frame slammed into tree trunks, breaking and splintering them as it struggled to follow my movements.
The sound of wood shattering echoed through the forest as all of them began to move, their anger making them even less predictable.
Out of all of them, I feared the third orc the most—it wielded a massive wooden club that looked heavy enough to crush a boulder.
I quickly circled around the trees, assessing my position, before focusing on the fourth orc.
"Agni Om Devya Kurdoscht Algara…" I continued chanting, preparing my next spell as I rushed toward it.
The fourth orc was unarmed, and it hadn't yet caught up to the rest.
I tried to take advantage of that, maneuvering silently behind it.
But just as I was about to strike, it twisted its body sharply and turned to face me, moving far faster than I expected.
I didn't have enough time to dodge completely, so I used my sword defensively, channeling its own strength against it.
My blade sliced into its arm, tearing through the thick flesh, cleaving its hand nearly in two.
But before I could retreat, it swung its other arm with raw force, hitting me squarely.
I managed to deflect part of the blow just in time, but the impact still sent me flying backward.
I slammed hard against a tree trunk, the breath knocked out of my lungs.
Pain shot through my side, and I immediately realized that one of my ribs had probably cracked—maybe even broken.
Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to stand. I refused to fall here.
I turned my head, spotting the three remaining orcs gathering in front of me, the wounded one limping behind the others.
"Shiesh Gormana!" I shouted, completing my chant. I raised my short magic staff and unleashed the spell.
Boom!Boom!Boom!
Explosions erupted in front of me, tearing through the air.
The shockwaves knocked leaves from the trees and sent dirt flying in all directions.
The three orcs were blown apart, their bodies reduced to mangled pieces of flesh and smoke.
When the noise faded, I found myself barely able to stay on my feet.
My body was screaming in pain, and my chest burned with every breath.
I could tell I had sustained serious internal injuries—it hurt like hell.
My vision blurred slightly, and I clenched my jaw to keep from collapsing.
Falling here, in the middle of the forest, would be suicidal.
Forcing my aching body to move, I stumbled toward the nearest tree and began climbing, every motion sending sharp stabs of pain through my ribs.
After what felt like an eternity, I managed to settle myself on a thick, sturdy branch.
I leaned against the trunk, gasping for air.
"Fuck…" I hissed between breaths, cursing the pain that radiated through my body.
My hands trembled as I reached under my armor, pulling out a small leather pouch.
Inside was a High Potion, carefully stored so it wouldn't break during battle.
I uncorked it with shaking fingers, ready to patch myself up enough to survive.
I quickly gulped the potion down my throat, feeling the thick liquid burn slightly as it went down.
Within moments, I began to feel its effects—the familiar warmth spreading through my body as my internal injuries started healing rapidly.
The pain in my chest dulled to a faint ache, and my breathing became easier.
My cracked rib was still sore, but it was healing, piece by piece.
I leaned back against the tree trunk for a moment, exhausted but relieved, then reached into my small pouch and pulled out a piece of dried meat jerky that I had packed earlier.
My stomach growled in protest, reminding me how much energy that battle had drained from me.
I began chewing the tough jerky slowly, savoring the salty taste even though my body was screaming for rest.
After finishing it, I took a few sips of water from my canteen to wash it down, the cool liquid easing my parched throat.
Still feeling slightly light-headed, I took another mouthful of the potion—just to make sure the healing was complete—and downed it in one go.
Once the potion's effects kicked in again, I felt significantly better, though still tired.
Deciding that it was time to leave, I carefully climbed down from the tree, stretching my stiff muscles once I reached the ground.
Just as I began to move, I heard the faint sound of bushes rustling nearby.
My instincts immediately kicked in.
Without hesitation, I drew my sword from its sheath and slipped my short magic staff back under my cloak to conceal it.
My body tensed as I waited for whatever was approaching.
"Your Highness!"
The voice was unmistakable—it was Maya.
A moment later, she burst out from the bushes, followed closely by several others.
They all looked relieved the moment their eyes landed on me.
'Oh great… they figured out I was missing,' I thought, narrowing my eyes slightly.
Of course, it was only a matter of time before they noticed my absence.
Maya spotted me and shouted my name again, her tone filled with obvious relief.
Before I could even say a word, another figure came charging through the trees at full speed.
I didn't even need to guess who it was.
Riveria emerged from the thicket, her face cold but her eyes blazing with anger.
"YOU BASTARD!!!" she shouted furiously, her voice echoing through the clearing.
Her hand swung toward me in a sharp, practiced motion—clearly aiming for a slap—but I stepped back just in time, letting her hand cut through empty air.
I had no intention of getting slapped after everything I'd just been through, especially not right after a life-and-death fight with orcs.
"You—!" she exclaimed, clearly shocked that I had actually dodged her.
Her expression changed quickly, her glare softening as she scanned me from head to toe, searching for any signs of injury.
Her eyes darted over my arms, face, and armor, her brows furrowed in concern.
When she finally seemed to confirm that I wasn't severely hurt, the tension broke—and she exploded.
"Ember!! What were you thinking?!" she shouted, her voice trembling between anger and relief.
"You ran off on your own!! Do you have any idea how worried we were?! How dangerous that was?!" Her words came fast, sharp, and emotional.
I could see tears welling at the corners of her eyes even as her fury burned.
I sighed, feeling both irritated and guilty.
"Shut up," I said flatly, my voice coming out colder than I intended.
Riveria froze mid-sentence, as if the air had been sucked from her lungs.
She looked at me with shock, unable to respond for a moment.
"It would have been better if you had just listened to me in the first place," I continued, my tone steady and hard.
"If you had agreed, I wouldn't have needed to sneak out like this."
Her breathing grew uneven, and she looked at me with trembling lips.
"Y-You… Ember, you've become crazy!" she said, her voice quivering—but it was softer now, tinged with sadness instead of anger.
I snorted, a bitter smirk tugging at my lips.
"As if I wasn't crazy enough already," I replied, shaking my head.
"Forgive me, sister—but no other child enjoys spending every single day buried in books, drowning in endless study, or practicing archery day and night until his hands blister. No other kid pushes himself to the point of collapsing from exhaustion while learning magic or spends his time mastering the art of slicing through living creatures without hesitation. So yes—maybe I am crazy."
My words hung in the air, heavy and sharp, as Riveria's expression faltered between anger, confusion, and something deeper—something like pain.
My words came out cold—colder than I had intended—and she froze on the spot, her head lowering as if my tone had struck her harder than any weapon could.
For a moment, silence filled the space between us.
The others around us didn't dare to say a word.
I exhaled slowly and turned away, deciding to simply walk off rather than make things worse.
But just as I took my first step forward, she caught me completely off guard.
Her hand moved faster than I could react, and smack—a sharp pain exploded across my cheek.
'It stings,' I thought blankly, touching the side of my face.
The force wasn't too strong, but the emotional weight behind it was far heavier than the physical pain.
When I turned my head to look at her, I saw her eyes glistening with moisture.
Tears had started to form, but she refused to let them fall.
My sister—the same person who used to spoil me endlessly, treating me like I was her little toy or her personal teddy bear—had just slapped me.
Who would have ever imagined that this day would come?
Certainly not me.
I clenched my jaw but said nothing.
There was nothing I could say that wouldn't make things worse.
Without a word, I walked past her, keeping my head low.
The soldiers and mages who had accompanied her instinctively made way for me, their expressions a mix of confusion and unease.
They all understood that this was a matter between siblings, between royalty, and they dared not intervene.
I gave a simple order for a horse, and one of the elves hurriedly brought one to me.
I mounted it quickly, the leather saddle creaking beneath me as I adjusted my position.
Gripping the reins tightly, I pulled them once, and the horse began moving forward at a steady pace.
'I hate this kind of situation,' I thought bitterly as I rode away from the clearing.
'No one is really wrong here.' That was I said to myself to comfort my mind.
But a part of me told that I was at wrong, that I should go back and apologize to her.
Riveria had every reason to slap me.
She wasn't doing it out of cruelty or arrogance; she was scared—scared for me, scared of losing me again.
Maybe she had overreacted, but she wasn't wrong to do so.
Still, from my perspective, I wasn't wrong either.
I couldn't just sit still and wait for others to decide the course of my life.
'But the thing is do I really have to create a rift between us for my dream? Maybe I should return, because I know choosing strength over happiness will never end up in a good result', I thought.
'Will you choose happiness over strength?' I didn't knew how, but this thought, as if a question to myself came to me.
And for some reason I already knew the answer.
'Because without strength, your happiness will never be permanent', I thought, I was more determined than ever in my life.
'I guess it's time to leave Alf's Forest,' I thought, my grip on the reins tightening.
The decision settled heavily in my chest, but it was a resolve I couldn't ignore any longer.
My growth here had reached its limit; there was nothing more this place could offer me.
Staying here any longer would only keep me trapped in routine, repeating the same cycle of training and restriction.
It was time to move forward. It was time to take things seriously and step into the real world beyond the safety of these trees.
My heart was set—this was the only path that made sense now.
One day, I knew my sister would understand.
One day, she would see why I had to do this, why leaving was necessary—not just for me, but for both of us.
We weren't meant to remain confined in the comfortable cage of royalty forever.
There was more waiting for us beyond this forest—more challenges, more danger, and more meaning.
And for me, my dream stood above all else.
It was the one thing that gave direction to my existence, the purpose that made every scar and hardship worth enduring.
It was already set in stone.
We were never meant to stay behind the walls of luxury and duty.
We were born to break free, to carve our own path—even if it meant walking away from everything we knew.
To be continued...
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