The smell of warm bread and damp earth. The unmistakable sound of my mother's laughter. The gentle morning breeze brushing against my face.
Everything was perfect. I was home, in my village.
Until the sky abruptly turned black.
Silence swallowed the world in a millisecond. A thick, sickly fog rolled through the dirt streets. Then, colossal jaws materialized out of nowhere, shattering the roof of my house in an explosion of wood and clay tiles. A Taranpus with dead, hollow eyes and rows of sword-sized teeth lunged straight at us. Its acidic saliva melted the floorboards.
I tried to scream. I tried to run, to draw a weapon, to do *anything*—but my body weighed a ton. I was paralyzed. The beast unhinged its jaw, ready to rip my mother's head off and—
I snapped my eyes open with a violent jolt, gasping for air as if I were drowning.
There was no blood. No beast. No screams. Just the high ceiling of living wood and the starry sky peeking through the canopy's gaps.
I was lying on the hard floor of the training courtyard's bleachers, hugging my black wooden spear so tightly my knuckles were white and aching. Cold sweat dripped down the back of my neck. I took a deep breath, letting the adrenaline fade and my heart rate slow down. I closed my eyes for a second, grateful for the freezing elven morning breeze hitting my face.
One week.
An entire week had dissolved into a continuous, painful, and exhausting breath. Ever since I picked up that weapon for the first time and began learning how to mold my aura into the shape of the wind, I hadn't slept properly in a bed. My body simply shut down in the courtyard whenever I couldn't stand on my feet anymore.
Vandashi and Kanzo were the first; they forged me and taught me the fundamentals that now supported my arms. But today was Bigster Odássio's final test. The rite of passage for the heavy infantry.
The east training courtyard was already absolutely packed. Dozens of scouts, lancers, archers, and even healers crowded the suspended walkways and upper stands. The news that the human from Lavinsk was taking the test had spread like wildfire. They wanted to see the outsider boy fall. Or, just maybe, witness a miracle.
In the center of the arena, the giant Odássio crossed his massive arms, his silver armor creaking loudly.
"The test is simple, boy," the old captain's deep voice echoed across the courtyard, silencing the crowd. "Endurance, rhythm, and crowd control. A simulation of what you will face in the main hive tomorrow. It starts with one opponent. Then two. Three. Until you reach ten elite warriors of my infantry attacking simultaneously."
Odássio locked his hard gaze on me.
"Everyone here is going to fight dead serious, Suki. If your spear drops from your hands, if your back touches the floor, or if you lose your breath to the point of dropping your guard... you fail."
I walked down the wooden bleachers, feeling every muscle in my body complain on the first step, only to ignite with pure energy on the second. I spun the spear in my right hand, the blade cutting the air with a lethal hum of compressed wind.
"Bring them on," I said, a predatory smile drawing across my face.
The first elven soldier advanced. He was fast, driving a heavy thrust straight at my chest. Seven days ago, I would have tried to block that attack with brute force, wasting too much energy to stop the blade. Today, I didn't even blink.
I took a perfectly measured half-step to the side, letting the tip of his spear cut only the wind, inches from my nose. I used my heel as a pivot, rotated my hips, and slammed the butt of my weapon with surgical precision behind his knee. As he lost his balance, I followed up with a violent sweep that sent him crashing flat onto his back. One second was enough.
The crowd blinked, stunned.
"Next!" Odássio roared.
Two advanced in perfect military sync. One spear crossed my left, aiming for my ribs, while the other descended from the right, seeking my throat. A double flank designed to corner me.
Before, I would have desperately retreated. This time, I stepped right *into* the danger. I spun my spear vertically, using the black wooden shaft to parry the high thrust. I didn't try to stop the elf's force; I simply opened my hand, added a microscopic layer of wind, and let his blade glide down mine, redirecting his attack downward.
The two enemy spears collided with a loud *clack* of metal and wood. The two elves' eyes widened, their arms locked by the clash of their own weapons. They hesitated for a fraction of a millisecond. That was enough.
I released a concentrated pulse of wind beneath my heel and spun my entire body in a rapid blur. The base of my spear slammed hard into the solar plexus of the warrior on the left, stealing all the air from his lungs. Without losing the momentum of the spin, I let the weapon's weight pull me down and swept the blade across the floor, knocking the second soldier down with a brutal trip before he could untangle his weapon. Two on the ground.
Against three, I let the first one attack, used the shaft of my weapon to deflect his force upward into the second one's blade, and created an explosive gust under the soles of my boots. The *Wind Step* launched me ten feet into the air, soaring right over their formation. I spun mid-air and slammed the butt of the spear into the back of the third one's neck before my feet even touched the wooden floor again.
*Shōfū. Aragane. Rinrai.*
I wasn't trying to remember the stances anymore. They pulsed in my veins. That was how I dictated the rhythm of the massacre that followed, submerged in a state of absolute concentration. The world around me narrowed down to the sound of steel striking wood and the sharp whistle of the air, as four, five, and then seven warriors fell before my spear in a succession of rolls, sweeps, and wind blasts.
Up in the higher stands, the relaxed, entertaining atmosphere had evaporated, replaced by a shocked silence. Vandashi leaned over the wooden railing, gripping it so hard his knuckles were white. He tracked every dodge I made down below as if he were seeing a ghost.
"I would have bet my own spear that he wouldn't make it past the fourth opponent," Vandashi muttered, his raspy voice cracking with disbelief. "A human's stamina and tendons should have collapsed by now."
Kanzo was leaning against the pillar beside him, arms crossed, sporting a sharp, satisfied smirk.
"I warned you," Kanzo replied, never taking his eyes off the arena. "He doesn't just memorize the technique, Vandashi. His body devours it. And remember, he isn't a simple mortal like us. In his blood, half of him is divine."
Sillys watched from the highest vantage point. Her pale, cold eyes shined intensely, reflecting the small wind explosions I generated on every impact. She maintained the rigid posture of a queen, but the aura around her vibrated with pure military approval.
"He fights like a newborn storm," Sillys evaluated, her calculating voice weighing every variable. "But one against seven is still a fight for space. One against ten is a crush in a closed formation. Oxygen vanishes. That is where lungs burn and a warrior's mind finally breaks."
"He won't break."
The response instantly cut through the air. Sillys turned her face slightly, raising a thin eyebrow. Laura was leaning lazily against the railing beside her. The crimson-eyed girl looked down at me with a predatory half-smile and absolute pride.
"You taught him how to use the wind and how to hold that spear. In that, you are the masters," Laura said, her voice low but loaded with unshakable confidence. "But the absurd will to survive a massacre? He brought that from home. Just watch."
Down below, the thunderous sound of heavy boots marching in unison swallowed the courtyard. The dust from the previous fights settled.
The final challenge had begun.
Ten elite armored elves surrounded me in a perfect circle. Spears pointed. Heavy shields raised. They didn't hesitate; they attacked simultaneously, crushing the space around me like an avalanche of steel.
I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second. *Feel the flow of the air.*
When the wave of spears closed in half a meter from my body, I expanded my aura all at once. The wind exploded from me in an absolute concussive ring of pressure, bursting against their shields. The perfect formation shattered, the soldiers shoved half a step backward by the invisible impact.
I seized the microscopic opening and lunged like a lightning bolt.
Silver blades slashed from all sides, seeking my blood, but I danced between them. I ducked under a double strike, rotating my spear above my head in a perfect arc that swept three warriors at once, breaking their footing. A massive elf tried to flank me from the right. I didn't turn my whole body; I merely released a pure thread of energy through the tip of my spear and fired a supersonic thrust that hit him dead in the center of his breastplate, the shockwave of wind throwing him backward into two others.
Dodge. Pivot. Thrust. Wind blast. My spear was stitched to the very oxygen of the arena. My mind had never been so sharp. Brute force was completely swallowed by *timing* and flow.
The dust in the courtyard finally began to settle. Ten elite warriors of Sillys's infantry lay scattered across the living wood floor, groaning, clutching bruised ribs, armor caked in dirt, desperately gasping for air.
In the center of the carnage, I remained standing. My chest heaved violently, drenched in cold sweat, my knuckles white around the shaft of my spear. But I couldn't wipe the massive, stupid grin off my face. The silence in the stands lasted for exactly one second before erupting into whistles and cheers from the scouts.
"This kid is a freak!" Vandashi let out a raspy laugh from the railings, slapping his scarred hand against the wood. "A Taranpus in heat is more docile than him, dammit!"
"The moment he stopped fighting the air and mastered his own stance, he became a true lancer," Odássio added, walking to the center of the courtyard and nodding his square jaw in approval. "You passed the test, boy."
My knees finally gave out. I fell flat on my back against the wood, staring at the morning light tearing through the forest canopy. But I quickly sat back up when I saw Laura approaching.
Soft footsteps cut across the courtyard. Her shadow fell over my face.
"That idiotic smile doesn't really suit you," she teased, her red eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Maybe not..." I wheezed, letting out a tired, breathless laugh. "But putting the entire elite guard in the dirt sure does."
She rolled her eyes. Slowly, she raised her pale hand. A surgical breeze, thin and sharp as a scalpel, swept precisely over my body. In a fraction of a second, it stripped every drop of sweat from my skin, forming a fan of sparkling, atomized water droplets that dispersed into the night air behind me.
The thermal relief was instantaneous. My body temperature dropped perfectly.
"Damn..." Kanzo whistled from the ground, genuinely impressed. "Maybe in another seven hundred years, you'll learn a technique that delicate, Bigster."
"The girl manages to be an even bigger monster than him," Bigster conceded, chuckling deeply.
The euphoria in the courtyard began to dissipate as the captains dismissed the soldiers for the attack preparations. I kept the exhausted smile on my face. I returned Kanzo's banter, accepted Bigster's heavy pats on the back, and walked with Laura along the suspended walkway, pretending I was merely soaking in the glory of my victory.
But the second we reached our cabin and she went into her room, leaving me alone in the dark hallway, the mask crumbled.
The smile evaporated instantly. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. The sensation of Laura's breeze cleaning my sweat still tingled on my skin. The surgical control, the absurd delicacy of manipulating the air to strip moisture without even touching me.
I had spent seven days vomiting my lungs out, fighting to the absolute limit of exhaustion to master the rawest concepts of the wind. When I defeated those ten elite elves, I felt like a monster. A god in the arena. I genuinely, truly thought I was finally reaching her and Arthur's level.
But it only took a single, lazy hand gesture to hit me with reality like a punch to the gut.
*"The girl manages to be an even bigger monster than him."*
Bigster's good-humored words echoed bitterly in my head. The power gap between us was still gigantic. They were still in a completely different league.
I stepped into the wooden bathroom in grim silence. The water was absolutely freezing. I stood under the continuous flow, closing my eyes and clenching my jaw as the thermal shock bit into my bare skin. The water stung the bruises and shallow spear cuts that now covered my ribs, arms, and legs.
The water washed away the dirt, the thick sweat, and the living dust of the arena, swirling down the drain in dark spirals. But it couldn't wash away my wounded ego.
When I shut off the valve and threw myself onto the wooden bed in my room, my muscles weighed tons, begging for rest. But sleep refused to come. I lay flat on my back in the dark, staring at the grooves in the wooden ceiling as my thoughts spun at high speed. *Arthur too, for sure... they control the air with a bizarre, surgical mastery,* I thought. Frustration burned like acid in my stomach. An insomnia driven purely by pride.
*I am not getting left behind.*
"Focus and go to sleep, Suki," I whispered to myself.
It was still morning, but today rest was mandated for all soldiers, allowing the elves to spend time with their families and fully recover their energy for the big day. But, after hours of restless sleep, I still woke up with the same boiling dissatisfaction in my chest.
When the village finally plunged into the deep silence of the night, I slipped out the window without making a single sound.
Wearing a long black tunic, I used my spear blade to slice off the sleeves and ensure maximum shoulder mobility. I glided silently across the suspended wooden paths, nodded to two night sentinels hidden in the foliage, and watched the last weapon workshops extinguish their forges. The reflection of the blue-green sap lanterns shimmered eerily in the dew puddles.
In my world, I never roamed the dark streets like this. I was just a boy. I wished I had been more curious back then.
I dropped down into the wide, empty south training courtyard. The air was completely still. I stared at the palm of my hand. The technique Laura used was something like contrast and dispersion, forcing the air to push the moisture away.
I summoned the wind.
This time, I refused to let it explode in a raw blast. I closed my eyes and demanded absolute control from my aura. I forced the energy to thin out. The air around my hands began to vibrate in invisible heat waves. Pure blades, sharp as razors, formed at the tips of my fingers.
I channeled small, violent portions of air directly to the soles of my boots. Tiny, invisible explosions of highly compressed oxygen launched me in zigzags across the courtyard. The air became my physical stepping stone. I compressed the atmosphere around my left forearm, creating a film so dense it repelled the natural night breeze. An invisible, impenetrable shield.
Then, I opened my eyes and fused it all into the violence of the spear. Short steps. Spinning half-moons. Blind, yet meticulously precise thrusts. Every strike stitched itself to the freezing night breeze. Every spin birthed a small, silent, lethal whirlwind traveling up the black wooden shaft.
But it still wasn't enough. Laura's surgical control still hammered in my mind. The crushing pressure of Odássio's infantry cornering me earlier echoed in my leg muscles.
*What if I'm surrounded by ten Taranpus at once tomorrow? Just spinning and thrusting won't save me from a swarm.*
I stopped in the exact center of the arena. The courtyard remained empty, the silence broken only by my heavy breathing. I spread my feet, lowering my center of gravity until I almost touched the ground. I tightened both hands on the spear shaft, bringing it horizontally against my chest. I didn't want a shield anymore. I wanted death cutting in all directions.
I pulled air violently into my lungs. I flooded the blade and the wood of the spear with a massive, raging amount of wind energy, but I locked the exit. I refused to let it leak. I forced the energy to compress, thin, and stretch along the entire length of the weapon, until the metal tip vibrated and hummed at a high-pitched frequency that made my teeth ache.
I pivoted my front foot, digging my heel hard into the wood. Then, I used the full power of my hips, shoulders, and legs to rotate my entire body on the same axis as the spear. I turned into a lethal top. The inertia of the movement was colossal. At the peak of the spin's speed, I released the mental lock on my aura.
The energy wasn't pushed forward. It ripped outward from the weapon in a single wave of centrifugal expansion. A continuous, purely invisible, and incredibly thin blade of wind exploded from my body in a surgical 360-degree angle.
The sound was a dry thunderclap. A deafening, tearing crack that whipped the entire courtyard in a fraction of a second. I stopped the spin abruptly, dragging my boots against the wood to kill the momentum, panting heavily. The dust that kicked up around me took seconds to even begin to settle.
I lifted my face, squinting in the dark.
In a perfect ten-meter radius around me, the living wood floor had been massively gouged out, marked by a lethal, circular trench. Three thick support pillars at the edges of the arena now bore a deep, clean horizontal cut, reaching almost to the core of the wood. Leaves falling from the colossal trees above had been sectioned mid-air so cleanly that the halves drifted slowly to my feet without a single tear on their edges.
My lungs burned, but a manic, exhausted smile tore across my face from ear to ear. That wasn't a millennia-old technique from Vandashi or Kanzo. That was *mine*.
*A total cut. I'm definitely going to have to give this a badass name later,* I thought.
The hours kept bleeding away in the darkness, but when I finally returned to bed, my body felt light, not exhausted. The wind didn't drain me like a foreign weight anymore; it flowed perfectly alongside me. And with that thought, I blacked out.
I woke to the cold, pale light of the sun bleeding over the horizon. I rubbed my face, feeling the residual energy from the midnight training still tingling beneath my skin. No stiffness. Perfect.
Laura was already up, leaning in a relaxed stance against the cabin window frame. Arthur wasn't in the room. But it wasn't his absence that caught my attention. It was what she was wearing.
Her elven infiltration gear looked like it had been woven from the darkness of the forest itself. A meticulously tailored suit of matte black leather hugged her body, overlaid with aerodynamic, darkened steel plates protecting her shoulders, forearms, and thighs. An ultra-fine black mithril mesh wrapped around her neck and ribs, designed to absorb impact without emitting a single metallic clink when she moved. A short, dark cloak draped over just one shoulder, blending into the shadows of the room and lethally highlighting the crimson, predatory glow of her eyes.
I stared for a second longer than I should have.
"Morning," I murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed and letting out a heavy breath. "And damn... they really went all out on your gear."
Laura tilted her head slightly, her pale fingers absentmindedly brushing a tactical belt.
"Absolute vanguard scout class," she explained, her voice carrying a hint of dangerous satisfaction. "The fiber of the suit is alive. It cuts wind friction. Zero noise."
"Matches your terrifying aura perfectly," I said, giving a low whistle of approval as I grabbed my boots. "Seriously, you look like an assassin straight out of a nightmare."
She flashed a sharp half-smile, letting the tips of her fangs show slightly, clearly enjoying the compliment.
"And that's exactly what I'm going to be today." Laura looked away from me, shifting her gaze back to the tree line choked by the morning fog. The smile died, replaced by tactical coldness. "Today is the day. Excited?"
"You bet. Getting beaten to a pulp this entire week was all for this day."
"I trained too," she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "Queen Sillys completely destroyed us yesterday in her personal courtyard," Laura murmured. Her tone carried no resentment, only an almost haunted respect. She crossed her arms, rubbing her shoulders as if trying to chase away a phantom chill. "Arthur and I went at her with everything. Full power. At the same time."
I stopped tying my boots and stared at her, stunned. *Full power?* I thought. "And you guys won, right? You two are insanely strong."
"No, we didn't last ten minutes," she shook her head, her crimson eyes drifting through violent memories of the previous afternoon. "Her spear isn't just wind, Suki. It's like trying to fight a living blizzard in hand-to-hand combat. Every advance Arthur attempted, she deconstructed it at angles that didn't even make sense."
Laura paused, her gaze turning dark.
"Suki, you know Arthur. He fights like a force of nature. An immortal tank that ignores his own pain, takes the hit, regenerates, and crushes whatever is in front of him." She narrowed her eyes, her voice dropping to a tense whisper. "I have never... in my entire life... seen Arthur bleed so much. She shredded him. Her icy aura was so absurd that his blood flew from the cuts and froze instantly mid-air, hitting the wooden floor like shards of red glass. She broke the rhythm of his regeneration through the sheer force of physical trauma, until she forced him to his knees, gasping on the floor."
A chill ran down my spine. Arthur, that immortal mountain of muscle I knew, was simply defeated just like that.
"And the most bizarre part of all," Laura added, sighing. "She didn't even go all out against us. And to think she's only two hundred years old..."
"Two hundred?!" I choked. I remembered Sillys's flawless and impossibly youthful face, the aristocratic and delicate features that hid a monster of pure war, and I felt my cheeks heat up instantly like an idiot. "That's... terrifying."
"Just like the master," Laura shrugged, recovering her usual mask of lethal indifference as she adjusted her belt. "Old as the earth itself, with enough strength to flatten the continent, and doesn't look a day over twenty-something."
An electric shock of reality hit me. We were walking alongside absolute monsters. And today we were going to fight alongside them.
I grabbed the same sleeveless black tunic from the night before and threw it on in one quick motion. I locked the black wooden spear firmly on my back using the improvised leather harness. I felt the familiar weight and rolled my shoulders. I looked at the incredibly lethal girl leaning against the wall in front of me.
"Ready?"
Laura's red eyes burned with the promise of an imminent massacre.
"Let's hunt."
Outside, the entire village vibrated with the grim, organized hum of war. Tall and incredibly agile elves, armed with greatbows, leaped effortlessly from platform to platform across the giant branches. Broader, heavily armored elves carrying thick tower shields and short spears marched below, clearly molded by Odássio's brutal infantry style.
The morning air was dense with the freezing scent of pine resin and the terrifying, constant snap of bowstrings being tested.
"There are some elves here that are massively different in size," I noted, watching a giant walk past carrying an anvil-sized hammer.
"Branch-races," Laura explained softly. "Still elves, but from different evolutionary and environmental lineages."
At the base camp set up on the forest floor, Sillys was already waiting. She wasn't just standing there; she commanded the very space around her. Custom-fit silver armor hugged her body, catching the faint morning light like winter frost. Her long white hair was tied back in a tight, ruthless ponytail. Her pale skin contrasted sharply with the intricate and sweeping guards of her breastplate, and her thin steel boots locked perfectly over a chainmail skirt that flowed like braided snow.
Beautiful. And utterly lethal.
I swallowed hard, looking away before she caught me staring.
"I'm glad you're here, Suki. Laura."
Sillys didn't waste time on pleasantries. She turned sharply and guided us into her command room. A massive, living-wood map of the region dominated the central table. Obsidian pins marked isolated hives, bloody patrol trails, and deep ravines. Vandashi, Kanzo, and Bigster were already leaning over it.
"Pay attention to the division of forces," Sillys began. Her tone was stripped of all warmth. It was the voice of a monarch sending her people to die. "Groups A, B, and C will attack the hives with the highest concentration of Taranpus on the outskirts. They are numerous, but physically weaker. Twenty-five elite warriors per platoon. Group A will be under Vandashi's command; Group B with Bigster Odássio; Group C with Kanzo. My idea is that in each platoon there is someone who can lead and has enough strength not to fall. I'm counting on you, my captains."
The three saluted the queen as a sign of pure respect.
"And us?" Laura asked, arms crossed, eyes gleaming.
"Groups D and E will lock down the opposite side of the containment zone," Sillys pointed to the jagged eastern ravines. "Group D is yours, Laura. You will take a small elite squad. Maintain high mobility and the lethal precision you demonstrated to me yesterday. Group E belongs to Arthur, leading the frontal assault on the second most fortified hive."
She dragged her pale finger to the dark, dead center of the map.
"And F... Group F is the abyss. The central hive. It will be just me and Suki."
I frowned, stepping closer to the table. "Why just the two of us?"
"Because that is the absolute highest probability for the Taranpus Queen's location," she answered without blinking, her icy gaze locking onto mine. "I will not allow mass casualties in my army during a direct, chaotic confrontation with an apex alpha. Furthermore, there are three 'ghost' sub-hives along that specific route. If alerted, they will flood the main hive with reinforcements. If that happens, you and I will be ready."
"You're putting all the pressure on the main army," I pointed at the outer pins. "If we're too slow cutting the head off the snake, the horde might frenzy and overrun the other groups."
"We will not be slow," she declared, a lethal promise hanging in the air.
Laura nodded silently and left the tent to rally Squad D. Within minutes, the generals gave their final salutes and departed, leaving only Sillys and me standing in the heavy silence of the command tent.
She slowly lifted her gaze from the map, analyzing my bare arms and simple tunic. A faint, almost amused glimmer touched her eyes.
"I see you aren't wearing any armor. Do you really want to get bitten by one of those things?"
"And you definitely have the best set in the camp," I replied, feeling the heat rise to the tips of my ears again. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to look her in the eyes. "I'm not really the smooth-talking type, but... you look incredible in it."
She laughed softly, a crystalline, musical sound, and rested her cold, gauntleted hand on my shoulder.
"Come with me."
We left the hall and headed for the large door of the armory. It was the exact same chamber where she had almost interrogated me at spear-point days ago. Inside, rows of polished breastplates, fae-forged shoulder guards, and living chainmail reflected the flickering blue light of the lanterns.
I scratched the back of my neck. "Look... I really don't like fighting inside a metal can. It makes me feel rigid. Heavy. It ruins my mobility."
Sillys simply raised a thin, understanding eyebrow. "Alright, I expected as much from you." I sighed, raising my hands in surrender. "Okay... if I'm going to wear something, it has to be extremely light. Like yours. But... uh... preferably without the chainmail skirt."
She laughed again, the sound instantly shattering the pre-war tension in my chest.
"I don't have anything perfectly tailored for your style ready to go," she murmured, her pale eyes evaluating me from head to toe with a surgical precision. "Your bone structure is slightly different. The shoulders are broader and the core is heavier. Besides, those armors have already all gone to the army. So, we're going to build your suit from scratch. Spread your arms and stand still."
Sillys stepped closer, invading my personal space. She didn't use measuring tapes. Her hands, cold and protected by light gauntlets, touched my shoulders, measuring the width of my collarbone and moving quickly down my ribs with a terrifying, purely professional speed.
I held my breath instinctively, my stomach muscles tensing as the subtle scent of winter frost and resin emanating from her invaded my senses.
"Expand your chest. Pull in as much air as you can," she ordered, her voice low and completely focused.
I did as she asked, filling my lungs to the limit. She pressed two fingers against my sternum, feeling the tension beneath the tunic.
"Dense torso, violent chest expansion under aerobic stress," she muttered to herself, eyes focused on my body structure. "You need something that protects your vital organs, but doesn't crush your diaphragm when the wind circulates. And the legs need to be completely free."
Sillys took a step back and, in the next second, moved through the armory with terrifying grace, scaling the wooden shelves effortlessly as if she were gliding through the canopy. She began pulling pieces down, returning with an armful of dark metal and leather, and started the assembly.
First, the arms. Darkened, reinforced leather bracers slid up my forearms. Sillys pulled the straps tight, locking the clasps over my wrists to ensure maximum grip on the spear.
"Clench your fists tight. Is it cutting off circulation?" she asked, not even looking at my face, her gaze focused on the leather knots.
"No. Perfect," I replied, my voice coming out slightly deeper than normal to hide my nerves.
Next, the legs. Dark steel greaves and articulated kneepads locked onto my shins with a satisfying, mechanical click. She crouched quickly to check the clearance at my ankles, ensuring that my *Wind Step* wouldn't be swallowed by the weight of the metal.
Then, the main piece. She brought over an incredibly light, greenish-steel half-breastplate. Sillys stopped inches from my face, close enough for me to see the blue glow of the lanterns reflected in her pupils. She passed the thick leather straps across my back and pulled them tight around my waist, locking the buckle firmly on the left side.
"Extend your right arm. Pretend you're delivering the heaviest thrust of your life," she instructed.
I stepped forward and launched my right arm out in a violent phantom strike. She adjusted the armor on my chest while I held the pose. The greenish steel molded flawlessly over my left side and back, but Sillys intentionally left my right shoulder and underarm completely free and exposed, with no restrictive plating that could lock up the brutal rotation required for my spear strikes.
To finish, asymmetrical, cold, and light metal shoulder guards were tied firmly over my shoulders and tunic. Sillys took a step back and crossed her arms, analyzing her own work from top to bottom.
"Roll your shoulders. Twist your waist. And take a deep breath."
I went through the motions. I spun in a quick half-moon. I unleashed a phantom attack at maximum speed and reset my stance. The armor didn't rattle. The metal didn't bite into my skin. It felt like a second layer of muscle, perfectly balanced and lethal. It was flawless.
I turned to the large polished steel mirror leaning against the opposite wall. The skinny, weak kid who lived in that destroyed village no longer existed. The reflection staring back at me was someone entirely different.
"Looks perfect," I said, spinning the spear in a rapid blur to test the aerodynamics. Mobility at one hundred percent.
"You don't have to give it back," Sillys said quietly.
I met her eyes in the mirror and offered a deep, respectful nod.
We left the armory and walked straight into an army ready for a massacre.
The front plaza of the village was a breathtaking, terrifying ocean of silver and forest green. Hundreds of elves stood in flawless, unmoving military columns. Banners woven with mystical, glowing leaves snapped violently in the wind. The lethal, chilling murmur of dozens of greatbow strings being drawn taut mixed with the thunderous, synchronized sound of spear tips striking the stone floor in three sharp beats.
*Clack. Clack. Clack.*
Many whispered low, ancient prayers to the spirits of the trees. A fine mist of golden, bioluminescent pollen drifted down from the canopy, falling over the silent army like a blessing from the forest itself.
Vandashi raised his giant spear high, his scarred face twisted into a fierce snarl.
"Group A graduates, on me! Shields forward! Three-step rhythm! We break them on the first charge!"
Bigster Odássio echoed the roar on the opposite flank.
"Group B, form the wedge! Wind at your feet, maximum pressure on the flanks! Leave nothing breathing!"
Kanzo smirked slightly, slowly drawing a long, unnervingly thin katana from his waist. His voice sounded perfectly calm, but it echoed across the entire plaza.
"Group C, keep the lines tight. Nobody runs alone in the dark. Breathe with me."
Across the field, Laura emerged at the head of Squad D. She wore her pitch-black infiltration gear, her crimson eyes glowing with raw, hostile killing intent. Arthur marched out shortly after with Squad E. He didn't shout any orders. He simply walked, exuding an aura so crushingly heavy that the towering elves behind him followed with absolute, terrified devotion, as if obeying the gravity of a black hole.
Sillys took a slow step toward the edge of the courtyard, standing alone before the entirety of her forces. The wind died instantly. The forest went dead silent to listen to her.
"Elves of my blood, and of my breath," her voice rang out, crystalline, sharp, carrying the weight of a goddess. "Today, the forest breathes with us, or it breathes against us. I am not here to promise you empty glory. I promise you the cold, naked truth: some of you will not return to these fires tonight."
She swept her piercing gaze over the sea of faces, lingering on her captains.
"Even so, none... none of you will fall in vain. To those who doubted my leadership: watch, and learn. To those who stood by my side: let us march." She raised her silver spear to the sky. "For our dead! And for what remains of our future!"
The plaza violently shuddered. A deep, aggressive, and utterly savage roar erupted from the throats of the elves—a war cry so loud it seemed to tear straight from the roots of the earth, shaking the core of the giant trees.
The Queen slowly turned her face toward me. For a brief, fleeting second, the flawless royal armor and the cold political mask melted away, replaced by a sharp, thrilled, adrenaline-fueled smile.
"Ready, lancer?"
I spun the shaft of my weapon, the wind instantly howling around the blade.
"Always."
She pointed the spear toward the dark, fog-choked horizon of the infested woods.
"Groups, march! A, B, and C, take the outer hives! D and E, lock down the east and northeast!" Sillys turned her pale eyes entirely to me. "F... with me."
The army unfolded like a single, massive predator. Bows were slung. Spears struck the ground twice more. The air pressure shifted drastically, the temperature plummeting as hundreds of auras flared to life.
When we made our first synchronized leap onto the colossal branches toward Sector F, the forest itself seemed to groan, as though the ancient woods recognized the sheer violence of what was about to come. I took a deep breath, letting the freezing air fill my lungs. The flow of wind gathered obediently beneath the soles of my boots.
At the absolute outer edge of the village, seconds before we plunged into the pitch-black canopy, Laura landed silently on the branch beside mine. She reached out and lightly grabbed my armored forearm. Her glowing crimson eyes held all the weight that the brutality of war wouldn't let us say out loud.
"Come back alive."
"You too."
"Suki," Sillys murmured without looking back. Her silhouette was perfectly tense, a coiled spring ready to dive into the dark abyss of the Taranpus territory. "If I fall today... finish what we came to do."
I stepped right up beside her, feeling the wind and the adrenaline ignite my veins.
"I'm not going to let you fall, Queen."