Moonlight filtered through the thick canopy, spilling silver across the ancient forest floor. This was the northern Beast Forest of the Elven Kingdom, and it was nothing like the human side. Here, the trees stood taller, their leaves richer, their fruits ripening twice in a single season. The beasts prowling these woods were stronger, sharper, more attuned to their elemental powers. Even the air itself felt fresher, almost alive, thrumming with quiet magic.
Under that moonlight, a woman moved like a shadow. She stood nearly six feet tall, her skin a deep grey that caught the silver light. Her build was athletic—long muscles carved into her arms and legs, sleek rather than bulky, her movement whisper-soft and precise. Silver hair, smooth as silk, brushed her shoulders. Her violet eyes gleamed like gemstones, her sharp nose and defined jawline only made sharper by the night's glow.
She carried the beauty of a warrior—scarred, battle-forged. Thin white lines from blades marred her arms and back. Her chest was flat, barely a curve, but her thighs were thick with muscle, and her figure was honed for survival rather than display. And then there were her ears—long, pointed, unmistakable. Elf, yes, but not the fair, golden kind of human stories. Something rarer.
Her shadow stretched unnaturally behind her, five meters long, and from that darkness crawled shadowy hands. They carried the body of a man—Ali—limp and unconscious, brought along using her shadow.
The elf paused, her every movement deliberate. She scanned the trees as she passed a marked trunk, its magical glyph pulsing faintly, a ward against pursuit. Sensing no one on her trail, she pressed on until the trees broke into a cliff face where water thundered down in a glimmering sheet. A waterfall poured from above, gathering in a small crystal pond below.
Kneeling, she shifted the human from shadow to shoulder. His weight was considerable, his frame heavy against her smaller build, but she bore him without hesitation. A dark-grey aura shimmered faintly around her body, raw energy gathering around her legs. Level 3 aura.
She jumped.
In a single bound, she leapt into the cascade. Water roared over her as she pushed through the current and landed lightly inside a hidden cave.
The cavern wasn't deep—just a concealed hollow, barely enough space for two tents. One was small and plain, the other larger, its perimeter encircled by black markings smeared across the stone in deliberate patterns. The ink shone faintly in the dark—ancient glyphs, ritualistic magic.
"You're back!"
A soft voice echoed from within the larger tent. The flap pulled aside and another elf stepped into the cave.
Where the first carried the rough beauty of a warrior, this one was her opposite. She was tall as well—six feet, the height of most elves—but her features were softer, more Nobel-like. Her silver hair was longer, cascading in a gleaming river down to her waist. Her face was smooth, flawless, untouched by scars. Her body was lush, full curves where the other was lean. Her breasts were full, heavy, the kind human women would carve themselves for under a surgeon's knife. Her hips and thighs were thick, her ass round, the sort of body designed to tempt men with ease. She embodied the noble, fertile beauty of her race.
She wore a leather cloth made of the hide of a panther, same as the light leather armour the warrior elf wore.
Her eyes, burned the same violet as her companion. And when they landed on the human lying motionless on the cave floor, they softened, sparkling with fascination. His face was calm in sleep, his chest rising and falling, his sharp jaw and masculine features etched with strength even in unconsciousness.
"Even those bastard princes would be put to shame," the curvier elf murmured as she knelt, brushing delicate fingers along Ali's cheek. Her violet eyes were dreamy, hungry.
"Where did you find him?" she asked, gaze never leaving Ali.
The warrior elf exhaled sharply, unfastening her dagger belt and setting her bow aside as she sat down. "Sigh. I was hunting when I felt powerful winds tear through the forest. They came from the human side, so I went to scout. I found him there—unconscious, surrounded by scorched earth."
"You crossed into human territory?!" The busty elf's voice was sharp. "You know the slavers prowl those woods!"
Kaelyra only shrugged, dropping onto a padded mat in her tent. Her violet eyes flicked back to Ali's bare chest, the muscle carved smooth, unscarred. "Look at him. His clothes are shredded, looks like the effect of burns and cuts… but his skin is flawless. Not even a scar left behind. At first, I thought he might be a vampire, but he laid in sunlight unharmed. You should be careful with him. Do it quickly, before he wakes." Her voice was flat, but her hand stayed close to her blade.
Ali did not move. His breathing was even, his eyelids slack. But beneath the mask of sleep, he was very much awake. Listening.
'My Spirit isn't going past fifty percent,' he thought. 'Any Spirit I regenerate is being swallowed repairing my Spirit Realm. Shadow is asleep, healing after Bahamut used him as a vessel. I can feel Eldora—she's stable in Stork with Abeloth…'
The busty elf—Eryndis—smiled faintly, fingers trailing down Ali's abs before pulling away.
"Kaelyra, you took a risk I wouldn't want you to take. But you did well. I'll prepare the ritual. This human will sustain our Spirit for a month at least."
Kaelyra's eyes hardened. "Eryndis, we are the last of our kind. If those bastards are still on our trail, we cannot afford a mistake. Make sure you do this right. I know it's your first ritual, but you've watched the priestess perform it more than anyone. You can do it."
"Thank you," Eryndis whispered. Her eyes lingered one last moment on Ali's body before she turned, her ample chest bouncing with each hurried step as she disappeared back into her tent.
Ali's thoughts sharpened. 'Ritual? Last of their Kind? What did I walk into? Do I wait and see or end this now? They're weak, though…'
His Force Sense swept over them both. Neither elf came close to his level. Even half-Spirit, even with a battered Spirit Realm, they were nothing to him.
But then—pain.
A sudden migraine slammed into his skull, searing like ten electric prods striking at once. He clenched his jaw, refusing to twitch, his body still as stone. Kaelyra's violet eyes stayed fixed on him, searching for any sign of motion.
'Fuck, this is bad. Real fucking bad,' Ali thought through the haze.
Ali hated pain. But he could endure pain. Always had. But there was one kind of pain which caused him trouble the most—Post-traumatic pain. A scar branded into his nerves after countless electrocutions. Mateo had left him with a curse he had to deal with.
'I can deal with it later. But electric trauma… it's the worst. My nerves will regenerate normally, but my brain's still fried from being hit with a million volts, over and over…'
Ali lay unmoving, letting the agony burn through his skull. He would not flinch.
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