The slaver’s spear darted forward with a hiss of steel cutting through the night air.
Reinhardt shifted his weight, instincts sharper than he remembered ever having. His blade rose not clumsy, not desperate, but smooth. The sword intercepted the spear with a clean, ringing clang.
The slaver’s eyes widened. “What—?”
Before the man could react further, Reinhardt twisted, driving the flat of his blade into the man’s gut. The slaver collapsed with a strangled cry.
The others, stunned for half a heartbeat, roared in anger.
“Kill him!”
They charged.
Reinhardt gritted his teeth. His body moved as though guided by something deeper than memory, each strike flowing into the next. He ducked under a swing, countered with a slash across a thigh, spun away from a knife’s arc. Sparks flew as steel clashed in the moonlight.
And then silence.
The slavers lay scattered across the forest floor, groaning or unconscious. Reinhardt’s chest heaved as he lowered his sword. Not a drop of blood stained the blade.
“…I didn’t kill them,” he murmured, surprised at his own restraint. “Guess I still… don’t want to be a murderer.”
The forest around him stirred again, cicadas resuming their calls, as though the world itself had held its breath.
Reinhardt steadied himself and looked upward. Through the canopy, the stars stretched endlessly so clear, so sharp, so alive. This was no game screen, no pixelated night sky. This was a world breathing around him.
He sheathed his blade.
One step. Then another.
The forest awaited.
Deeper into the woods, he noticed something strange. Shadows moved where there was no wind. Leaves rustled, yet no animal appeared.
Reinhardt slowed his pace. “...I know I’m not alone.”
An arrow whistled past his ear, embedding into a tree trunk.
He froze.
From between the trees emerged figures slender, tall, with hair that caught the moonlight like woven silver. Their bows were drawn, emerald eyes glinting sharp and cold.
Elves.
Reinhardt’s breath caught. So the stories… the NPC races… they’re real here too.
One of them, clearly the leader, stepped forward. Her tone was like steel wrapped in silk.
Reinhardt’s breath caught. So the stories… the NPC races… they’re real here too.
One of them, clearly the leader, stepped forward. Her tone was like steel wrapped in silk.
“Human. State your name, and why you stain our forest with the blood of men.”
Reinhardt raised his hands slowly, showing no threat.
“My name is… Reinhardt.” He paused, the name still strange yet natural on his tongue. “Those men were slavers. I stopped them.”
The elves exchanged subtle glances. The leader’s gaze softened only slightly.
“Your sword arm speaks truth. Still… we do not welcome strangers easily.”
Another elf muttered, “Especially not humans.”
Reinhardt swallowed his words. He could feel their suspicion pressing down like a weight.
Finally, the leader lowered her bow.
“You will come with us. Our elder will decide your fate.”
Reinhardt hesitated then nodded. “Lead the way.”
They moved silently through the forest, their steps so light the leaves barely stirred. Reinhardt followed, each step heavier than theirs, marking him as the outsider he was.
Soon, the trees parted into a clearing illuminated by faint, glowing crystals sprouting from the earth. A village revealed itself woven huts high in the branches, rope bridges strung between them, lights glowing warmly like stars fallen to the forest floor.
Reinhardt whispered, awestruck. “An elven village….”
Children peeked at him from behind wooden railings. Warriors kept their hands near weapons. Whispers spread quickly.
The elves escorted him into a central hall, where an elder waited. Her hair was pure white, her face etched with timeless calm. She studied Reinhardt silently, then spoke in a voice like wind through leaves.
“You carry yourself as one who does not belong to this world… yet this world has chosen you.”
Reinhardt’s heart skipped. “You… know?”
The elder’s eyes closed.
“The forest whispers many things. Whether you are blessing or curse, we shall see.”
The hall fell silent.
Reinhardt lowered his head, gripping the sword at his side.
Blessing or curse… huh? Guess that depends on what I do next.
..........To Be Continued...............
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