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“Yes, from their thorough investigation, it appears that the humans have given up their search and turned back.”

A deeper furrow of anguish formed on Relhard’s brow as he asked again.

“Have the bodies of the tribe’s warriors been recovered?”

Those noble warriors who stayed in the village to ensure their tribe’s escape, sacrificing their lives, could not be left as fodder for beasts. The young elf nodded solemnly.

“They all rest under the sands of the desert.”

“May Raguel, the spirit of fire, gather their souls and cradle them in the embrace of spirits.”

Murmuring the name of Raguel, Relhard prayed for the departed warriors’ spirits and pondered.

“So, are we safe for now…?”

“We cannot stay here any longer. If we are to have the strength to return to the village, we are at our limit with water.”

To return to the village from here, they would have to cross the great Yusa River—a perilous journey, especially for the children. Delaying could mean more deaths among the children.

Eventually, Relhard consented.

“Tonight, as the sun begins to set, prepare to return. Inform everyone to ready themselves.”

“Yes, Elder.”

The young elf bowed his head and left the tent. Relhard looked up, troubled.

‘What should we do?’

‘It’s not possible to live forever in the original village once its location is discovered…’

Fifty years after the village’s location was revealed, they had already faced numerous attacks by slave hunters. While their usual evacuation drills and hiding spots prevented a scenario of total annihilation, each time they lost more of their precious women and children.

Something needed to be done. Continuing to live in a known location was nothing short of suicidal.

‘But there’s nowhere else suitable to live.’

It wasn’t that the Spelrat Desert, hosting the oasis of the Dahnhaim clan, was the only habitable place, but any remotely livable oasis was already occupied by human nomads. Nor could they move deeper into the desert. Further west, in the depths of the Spelrat Desert, there were oases, but inhabited by formidable monsters that the Dahnhaim clan couldn’t possibly face. Even now, only half of their children reached adulthood; moving to more remote regions would only lead to a gradual death of the Dahnhaim clan without human attacks.

This hideout was the Dahnhaim clan’s final limit. To retreat further would make survival impossible. Yet, there seemed no other way.

“Eldia, grant us a path…”

Calling upon the name of Eldia, the goddess of the elves, Relhard lamented. Of course, Eldia did not respond. Having lost the World Tree, Elvenheim, Eldia could no longer offer any help to her children.

Just then, the elderly elf, Relhard, sighed deeply.

“Huh?”

Relhard perked up his sharp ears. Something was amiss outside.

Suddenly, his expression turned grim.

“Could it be!”

Had the humans discovered the location of this hideout too? Alarmed, he grabbed the sword beside him and dashed out of the tent at a fearsome speed.

* * *

At the entrance to the gorge, overlooking the wilderness on that narrow hillock, dozens of elves were already stationed, armed and waiting. In the desert, metal was a precious commodity, so only about a dozen elves wielded iron swords, while the majority were armed with weapons made from the bones of beasts—either bone-made swords or spears.

Once proud and elegant, the high elves now clad themselves in animal hides and wielded bones as weapons—an observer from the old times would have found this sight deeply lamentable. Of course, no one alive could remember those distant days.

Relhard sprinted along the narrow path to the entrance of the gorge and paused, looking down with a momentary expression of confusion.

“What in the world?”

Below in the wilderness, a group was leading a procession of ten camels. At the forefront was a woman with unmistakable platinum hair, brown skin, and pointed ears—a member of his own kin. Moreover, two children were riding the camels. These were all people Relhard knew well.

“Shailen? And Netina and Raiden too?”

Were they really alive? If that were the only news, it wouldn’t have caused such a commotion. No, a commotion would have indeed occurred—a joyful one to welcome back lost kin.

However, following them was clearly an elf girl who appeared to be a slave to humans, and a human youth who was unusually large for his kind. It was no wonder the other elves were bewildered. It was hard to guess why such a situation had occurred.

As Relhard looked on perplexed, Shailen moved toward him with a bright smile.

“Lord Relhard!”

At that moment, one of the gorge’s elves shouted angrily.

“Stay back!”

Simultaneously, a few elves began swinging slings made of animal hide.

Whoosh!

Something repeatedly flew and landed near Shailen. It was clear from the considerable distance that it was meant as a threat, not an aim. Hence, Siris, while adopting a defensive stance, did not immediately retaliate. She wasn’t particularly offended. Honestly, she would have been disappointed if they hadn’t been cautious.

Looking down at the projectile that had landed near her, Siris tilted her head in confusion. She had thought they were merely throwing stones with their slings…

“Neither metal nor stone…”

The projectile lacked the distinctive sheen of metal and was too smooth and oddly translucent to be a stone. Repenhardt approached quietly and resolved her curiosity.

“They’ve made sling bullets from melted sand, turned into glass.”

“Ah…”

Seeing the object in question, Siris remarked on its resemblance to a marble. However, it was not round nor clear, but rather a semi-melted and tarnished bead, which was why he hadn’t recognized it initially.

“Well, it’s just meant to be thrown and hit something, so it doesn’t matter if it’s a bit rough.”

After a moment of awkward silence, Siris cautiously posed a question.

“Do we have the means to melt sand here, to achieve such heat?”

Although they had been avoiding conversation due to the discomfort following their previous altercation, Siris felt compelled not to ignore Repenhardt any longer. Once he broached the subject, he felt a sense of relief. Repenhardt, looking more at ease, replied,

“They must have used elemental magic.”

Elves are usually most proficient in air and water elemental magic. However, despite being high elves, the Dahnhaim clan, having lived for centuries in the arid deserts, excelled in fire elemental magic due to the desert heat.

“We probably can’t summon spirits powerful enough for battle without the World Tree…”

While they could gradually increase the firepower after forming a fire spirit, achieving instantaneous high firepower was another matter, Repenhardt continued to explain.

“If that were possible, wouldn’t they all be wielding balls of fire? And they wouldn’t have been caught by mere slave hunters either.”

Siris nodded, newly appreciating the seemingly simple-minded young man’s unexpected depth of knowledge about his own clan.

As admiration shone in Siris’s eyes, Repenhardt, buoyed by the recognition, began to chatter about even unasked topics.

“The tanned shade of your clan’s skin is for the same reason. Truly, even if someone was darkened by the harsh desert sun, returning to their original skin color after nearly fifty years away would be expected. The fact it hasn’t changed suggests that the Dahnhaim clan has been significantly assimilated with the power of fire spirits for centuries, stabilizing even their skin color. It means you too are assimilated with the power of the fire spirits.”

Siris furrowed his brow. There’s being knowledgeable, and then there’s this. It was all becoming suspiciously detailed.

“…You didn’t hear all this from a master, did you?”

Considering the ruins were one thing, but his depth of knowledge about elves and other races was peculiar. Indeed, Repenhardt had been an anomaly from the start, well-versed in the languages of orcs, dwarves, and now even elves, skills seemingly unrelated to his claimed expertise in exploring ruins.

Catching himself, Repenhardt made a face as if he realized something.

“Oh, that is…”

Ah, Siris seemed quite pleased to have someone to talk to, and Repenhardt had perhaps spilled too much in his excitement.

“Oh, our master’s friend is also knowledgeable about elves and dwarves… I’ve picked up a thing or two just from overhearing,” Repenhardt stammered, as if offering an excuse. Siris’s eyes sparkled with curiosity.

“Then how did you know my name?”

“Huh?”

“Serendi El Areliana. That’s my elven name.”

“What?”

Suddenly, Repenhardt’s complexion turned pale as he realized the mistake he had made.

Siris continued to gaze at Repenhardt sharply, her eyes full of suspicion. Sweat poured down Repenhardt’s back. This was truly a grave error; there was no room for excuses!

“Umm…”

Groaning, Repenhardt tried to avoid Siris’s distrustful stare. He had always sensed her suspicions about him. The situation was only going to get worse, not better. Honestly, keeping secrets was becoming increasingly difficult.

‘But how should I even begin to explain?’

It seemed he would need to return to Grand Forge and seek advice from Makelin about this issue. Resolving to do so, Repenhardt softly tried to appease Siris.

“I’ll explain everything properly later. This situation is a bit… you know?”

Indeed, the elves were still watching them with a mix of hostility and curiosity. Now was not the time for leisurely discussions. Siris nodded and turned her gaze back toward the gorge.

‘First, I need to show that I mean no harm…’

Repenhardt raised his hands and stepped forward.

“Elves!”

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

Just like at Grand Forge, the conversation was preempted by the arrival of glass bullets. Of course, it was hardly a challenge for Repenhardt, who could easily deflect even metal-tipped arrows.

Thump! Thud!

As the slingshot-fired glass bullets bounced off harmlessly, the elves began to show signs of confusion.

Repenhardt cleared his throat briefly and then raised his voice loudly.

“Descendants of the great spirits, though I am human, I am not your enemy! As one who knows the history of the elves, I seek to show you a gesture of friendship!”

His words were clear in the Elvish tongue. The elves looked at Repenhardt, bewildered.

“What’s going on?”

“Elder Relhard?”

Relhard himself seemed utterly perplexed. The accuracy of the Elvish language was one thing, but the content of the speech was profoundly rooted in the etiquette of the elves—a decorum almost lost even among the elves themselves, let alone to be spoken by a human.

‘…Is he not an enemy?’

Relhard felt puzzled as he alternately looked at Shailen and two children riding a camel. Logically, the scene suggested that these people had rescued his tribe and brought them here. If they were not humans, there would be no reason to doubt them.

Relhard raised his right hand, and the elves slowly lowered their slings. As the attack ceased, Repenhardt smiled gently—a smile so filled with goodwill that it bore no trace of hostility. Relhard was even more confused by this emotion.

‘It’s clear that he bears goodwill…’

Yet, the possibility of a trap could not be entirely dismissed. Humans were creatures capable of maintaining a calm exterior while potentially ready to strike treacherously. Though the attack had been halted, it didn’t mean they could blindly trust the newcomer.

Relhard shouted,

“Your words sound plausible! But there is insufficient evidence to trust you!”

‘Well, that figures.’

Repenhardt nodded as if he had expected this response. Dwarves could be swayed by a few words of truth, gaining immediate trust. But elves were different.