Hearing those words, the young elf couldn't keep his composure.
He gnashed his teeth as an eerie light flickered in his emerald pupils before he executed a tapestry of sword skills in an instant.
The old elf revealed a grin, effortlessly parrying those fancy sword techniques of the young elf before him.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The sound of metal clashing echoed as sparks flew.
Then, just as the young elf thrusted his sword, targeting the heart of the old elf, he vanished from his sight.
Before he could even figure out what had happened, he felt a pointed tip pressed against his throat.
"Well fought, young lord," Elrion said, his voice calm.
"Tch—" The young elf clicked his tongue in defeat, his brows furrowing.
He knew he had been outsmarted. Though Elrion praised him, he knew he didn't stand a chance against him.
From the beginning, he had been outlasted.
Even those few strikes he managed to land could be said to be Elrion's gift to boost his confidence.
"You don't have to praise me, Elrion. I know I wasn't even a match for you from the beginning." He admitted through the gaps of his teeth.
"Ho… Ho… That's not the case, young lord," Elrion chuckled as he stroked his silver-white goatee.
The young elf slid his sword into his scabbard without responding. Though he knew that he had been bested, he was reluctant to accept his defeat.
He hadn't missed a single training. While others of his age were busy fooling around, he had been training.
From dusk till dawn, he would practice his forms and techniques, work on his physique.
Despite all those efforts, he still couldn't amount to anything before this old monster.
It had been decades since he picked up the sword. But even now, he amounted to nothing before Elrion, his instructor.
This defeat was just like others.
It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Even after tasting the taste of defeat multiple times, he still couldn't get used to it. The taste of defeat tasted even bitter with every other defeat.
HRUUUUMPH!
The sound of a horn cut through the air, alerting both of them.
Elrion's expression darkened as an eerie light flickered past his eyes. The meaning of this horn was clear— danger was looming over the village.
It was clear that their village was under siege.
He clutched his scabbard tightly before turning to face Valen.
"Young mas—"
Before he could even finish his sentence, Valen stopped him, instructing him to leave. "Go!"
"Understood!" Elrion nodded his head, his tone full of resolve.
Elrion flicked his legs before vanishing from the spot. His silver robe, embroidered with green, leafy patterns, fluttered as he leapt.
In an instant, Elrion vanished from the spot.
Elrion was one of those elf folk who had the blessing of the wind spirit. This blessing made him swift and agile like the wind; at the same time, it granted him an incredible ability to leap through the air.
No sooner had Elrion left the scene than a servant arrived.
"Young master..., your mother is coughing blood," the servant said, his expression panic-stricken.
Valen wanted to join the defense. But hearing about the worsening condition of his mother, he couldn't bring himself to leave her alone.
He was already anxious about the danger looming over their village. Now, another terrible news reached his ears.
Just what was happening?
He felt his pulse quickening. Wrinkles formed on his temples as he gnashed his teeth.
Why are all of these happening right now?
He wondered, but to no avail. He couldn't find an answer to his questions. But that mattered none at this crucial moment.
He rushed to the building where his mother lay sick.
"Those mongrels are attacking again…"
"Damn those Leo-kin mongrels!"
"What should we do? We can't abandon the lord's wife."
Cough! Cough!
The atmosphere inside their abode was filled with gloom. Rumors ran rampant as the servants discussed the transpiring event.
Violent coughing could be heard.
When Valen arrived at his abode, he was hit with the oppressive gloom that filled the atmosphere. The air inside the place felt heavier than the air outside.
Even though the situation outside was equally detrimental, the atmosphere inside his home was something else.
He could hear the murmurs of rumors circulating.
However, he didn't have the liberty to respond to those rumors and ease their worries.
"Young master, you're here."
The servants greeted him as they witnessed his sight.
Their complexion was pale, and their expression was filled with worry. Some even seemed on the brink of collapse.
"What happened to mother?" Valen asked one of the female servants.
The female servant wore a long white skirt and a green top. Her ears were pointed, and her eyes were the shade of forest.
Though she looked beautiful, her emerald pupils displayed intense fear and concern. Perspiration trickled down her forehead as she struggled to breathe.
It was clear that she had been working without pause.
Even now, she was holding a bowl of water mixed with some herbs.
Frowning, she looked at Valen, her pupils appearing seemingly frenzied, "We don't know, young master. Her highness suddenly collapsed and started coughing violently. Then her body temperature rose, and she started sweating profusely…"
Valen was well aware of his mother's worsening condition. His mother had a frail body, and her condition became even worse after giving birth to him.
The shamans of the tribe determined that she was suffering from a "Lack of Life Essence" trait.
This trait was considered inherent, and the one affected couldn't harness the essence of nature properly. The elf believed that all life forms required life essence to sustain their life.
This life essence was believed to be found in nature.
But if a person's body is incapable of harnessing this essence, then their body condition would worsen with time, and the person would die.
"Lead me to her," Valen said.
The servant, however, seemed rather reluctant. It was as if she couldn't adhere to his order.
"But her highness—"