The silence of the forest was shattered in an instant as a massive boar-like creature burst from the thicket ahead, its tusks gleaming, its body covered in rough, stone-like skin. The air rippled around it, faint traces of mana trailing in its wake.

But before the creature could even reach them and before he could even summon a single soldier, a spike of pure ice tore through the beast's skull.

The force lifted it clean off the ground, freezing its body midair before it crashed lifelessly into the dirt.

Edward blinked, mouth slightly open. The icy pillar shimmered for a moment, then crumbled into mist.

"That was fast," he muttered under his breath.

"It was just a weak mana beast," Elarien replied, not even sparing the corpse a glance as she continued walking.

Edward hesitated, then followed.

"Mana beast?" he repeated the strange term.

Elarien stopped mid-step and turned toward him, a faint frown creasing her brow. "I'm certain there are mana beasts in human lands too, are there not?"

"Oh, uh…" Edward scratched the back of his head, searching his memories. But nothing came to mind. "I'm not sure. I... haven't travelled much."

She stared at him for several long seconds, her expression unreadable.

Then she simply shook her head and resumed walking. "They are animals infused with mana—stronger, faster, and more resilient than their natural forms. Their power is classified in stages, much like humans."

Edward nodded slowly, trying to digest the information. Then a thought struck him, and his eyes widened.

"Wait, humans? Does that mean elves don't follow the same stages?"

This time, Elarien halted completely. She turned fully toward him, her green eyes narrowing.

"Are you toying with me?"

"Not at all," he said quickly, his tone earnest.

She sighed, rubbing her temple as if he was testing her patience.

"Elves don't draw strength from cores like humans or beasts. We form contracts with spirits and channel mana through them. Our strength depends on the spirit's power. Some spirits can grow stronger with time, but that growth is… limited."

"Spirits…" Edward repeated, his voice low.

His mind flashed with images of the Crimson Oath—the cult that had used forbidden rituals to summon and bind what they called evil spirits. But the elves… theirs sounded different.

Then, as her words sank deeper, another thought surfaced. Thyrion. The old elf and his ramblings about the spirit realm.

"Could it be that he wasn't a lunatic?" Edward thought to himself.

He decided to take the risk. "Do you perhaps know an elf called Thyrion?" he asked carefully.

Elarien froze. Her gaze snapped to him. "Thyrion? As in… His Majesty's father?"

"...Huh?" Edward blinked, thrown completely off guard.

She turned, clearly expecting him to follow. Not wanting to look suspicious, he did.

"I've heard the name before," he said vaguely, fishing for some answers.

"Of course you have," Elarien replied, her tone softening slightly. "He was the first elven king to form an alliance with humans. Though… it didn't last long."

"Why?" Edward pressed, genuinely curious now.

"Because human greed knows no bounds," she said flatly. "They asked for something sacred to us."

"What was it?"

"Spirits," she replied, glancing toward the trees. "They wanted to learn how to contract them."

Edward stayed quiet, sensing there was more.

"They changed their minds quickly," she continued, "when their people began dying by the dozens trying to do it. But instead of admitting their failure, they broke the treaty—claiming we had cursed them."

Her voice remained calm, but beneath that calm, Edward could hear the faintest tremor of bitterness.

The forest around them seemed to grow quieter. Even the wind softened, as if listening.

Edward stayed silent, mulling over her words. He imagined the ancient alliance—the moment when humans, desperate for more power, reached too far into something sacred and unknown.

"No wonder they hate us," he thought, "But... why did I survive seeing the Spirit Realm then?" he couldn't help but wonder.

Elarien eventually realised how much she'd said. Her expression hardened again, and she changed the subject abruptly. "You really don't know much, do you?"

"I grew up in a small town," he said with a shrug, pretending it explained everything.

She gave a faint, humourless smile and shifted her focus back on the track.

After that, silence fell between them again. They walked for what felt like hours, following narrow paths that twisted through the forest. The further they went, the wilder the terrain became. Roots jutted out from the ground like the spines of old beasts, and the light dimmed beneath the towering trees.

But finally, after pushing through a wall of thick brush, the trees opened up—and a village revealed itself beyond.

Edward blinked, taken aback.

It wasn't large—perhaps the size of Merborne, the small human village he'd once called home. Wooden huts stood half-hidden beneath the canopy, their walls wrapped with vines.

Smoke curled from a few chimneys, and narrow dirt paths wound between the homes.

But what caught his eye were the people.

Elves—though unlike any he'd seen in the city. Their hair was shorter, their clothes rougher, and their expressions harder. Many wore armour made of hardened leather or pieces of monster hide. Some carried hunting bows across their backs, others small pouches or sacks that clinked faintly as they walked.

A few looked up as Elarien passed, giving brief nods of acknowledgement before returning to their work.

Edward followed, his curiosity growing by the second. "Where are we?"

"Glenwood Village," Elarien said. "A place where hunters rest, merchants feed their horses, and thieves hide from the law."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Sounds… cozy."

"Depends on who you ask," she replied dryly.

They walked through the village center. Every passerby's eyes widened at the sight of Edward, but none dared to speak. He wasn't sure if it was because of Elarien—or for some other reason he couldn't tell.

Then she came to a sudden halt outside what appeared to be a tavern.

"What is this place?" Edward asked.

"A place where answers can be found."

And with that, she pushed the door open, and they disappeared into the mystery of the elven tavern.

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