Chapter 22: The Faith of the Elves
Day twenty-two of the adventure.
With Kraft joining them, Kurtz and Serie's adventure became much easier.
Especially since Dwarf Somo always charged in first during battles, his war hammer cleaving through monsters with methodical precision.
Sometimes, Kurtz hadn't even finished drawing his sword, and the fight had already ended. The dwarf's battle cry would echo through the forest, followed by the wet thud of his weapon finding its mark, then blessed silence.
If the opponent couldn't yield quickly, Kraft and Serie would also step in.
The monk's flowing movements complemented the elf's precise spellwork, and basically no monster could withstand the coordinated attacks of these three.
Kurtz found himself handling cleanup duty more often than not, though he couldn't complain about the efficiency.
During this time, Kurtz also continued to diligently improve his magic level every day, practicing forms and incantations until his fingers cramped and his voice grew hoarse.
He also took the time to ask Serie to teach him her Light Pillar Missile magic.
When he'd first broached the subject, she'd raised an eyebrow in that skeptical way of hers, but naturally agreed once he explained his reasoning.
Now she taught him hand-in-hand how to condense light into solid form and then make it explode with devastating effect.
Her fingers would guide his through the proper gestures, her voice soft near his ear as she corrected his pronunciation.
The magic itself demanded complex work, requiring precise mana control and split-second timing, but having her so close made concentration nearly impossible.
This scene made Kraft smile wryly repeatedly, the monk's knowing expression growing more pronounced each day.
Eventually, he simply took to hiding behind nearby trees during their practice sessions, muttering prayers under his breath and avoiding watching the two of them altogether.
"Delicious, delicious! Give me another bowl, Mr. Kurtz."
By the crackling campfire, Dwarf Somo held the wild vegetable and mushroom soup in his weathered hands, praising it with the enthusiasm of a man who'd spent too many years eating dried rations.
Steam rose from the wooden bowl, carrying the earthy scent of forest herbs and carefully seasoned broth. He tasted such exquisite and delicious cuisine for the first time, and his eyes practically glowed with satisfaction.
"Just call me Kurtz." He ladled another generous portion into the dwarf's bowl, watching Somo's face light up like a child. This fellow, apart from his combat prowess and appetite resembling a proper dwarf, differed completely from a dwarf in other aspects.
Just the fact that he could sew clothes made Kurtz somewhat unable to keep a straight face.
Earlier that day, he'd watched those massive, scary hands delicately mend a tear in Kraft's robes with stitches so fine they could rival a master tailor's work.
He still didn't know how that pair of large hands managed to use a small embroidery needle so skillfully; one could only say that sometimes stereotypes proved deadly wrong.
"It's indeed delicious," Kraft said between bites of grilled skewers, savoring the smoky char and herb seasoning.
"I suddenly understand why you, Serie, would travel with Kurtz."
The firelight danced across his weathered features, highlighting the contentment in his expression. After decades of sparse monastery meals and wilderness foraging, even simple camp food felt like a feast when someone prepared it with care.
"I'm not doing it for this reason." Serie retorted, though her tone lacked any real defensiveness.
She held her bowl of mushroom soup carefully, sipping it in small, measured mouthfuls.
Ever since she'd burned her tongue that first night, too eager and impatient to wait for it to cool, she had learned her lesson. Now she would blow on each spoonful twice before drinking, making the small ritual second nature.
The memory still stung, both literally and from the embarrassment of Kurtz's poorly concealed amusement.
"But I'm very surprised that you would accept these foods," she continued, studying Kraft with curious eyes.
Both she and Kraft had practiced pure vegetarianism back in the Elf Forest, sustaining themselves on fruits, nuts, and the blessed plants that grew under the ancient canopy.
She'd only begun trying new and strange foods out of necessity during this journey, starting with those grilled mushroom skewers Kurtz had offered when they first met, crispy and impossibly savory.
Watching Kraft now, tearing into meat with genuine relish, did indeed surprise Serie more than she cared to admit.
The transformation seemed so complete, so natural, that it made her wonder what other changes awaited elves who left their forest sanctuary.
"In the past hundred years of adventuring, I haven't had those fruits and blessed plants from the Elf Forest." Kraft's voice carried a note of wistful nostalgia as he spoke.
"So naturally, when you're hungry enough, you eat whatever you can find. Survival teaches flexibility in ways philosophy never could."
He paused, chewing thoughtfully before continuing.
"Basically, all companions who venture beyond the forest eventually adapt like this. The alternative is starvation, and dead elves serve no purpose to anyone."
Hearing Kraft speak so matter-of-factly about abandoning elven dietary traditions, Kurtz felt a bold guess forming in his mind.
Could it be that thousands of years later, all these ancient elves would transform into practical beings like Frieren, who ate meat without hesitation and adapted to whatever circumstances required?
The thought struck him as both amusing and oddly touching, immortal beings learning to bend rather than break.
Kurtz felt as if he had vaguely touched upon some fundamental truth about how cultures evolved, how even the most rigid traditions eventually yielded to practical necessity.
"By the way," he said, steering the conversation toward something that had puzzled him.
"I thought you elves only had the Elf Forest as a base. I didn't expect there to be an actual elf kingdom as well."
His tone carried genuine curiosity mixed with the slight confusion of someone still learning about this world's history.
"That would have existed two thousand years ago," Kraft said slowly, his expression growing more serious as old memories surfaced.
The firelight cast deep shadows across his face, making him look far older than his appearance suggested.
"Back when the God Wars had just begun, and the elves of the Elf Forest faced a fundamental disagreement about the war itself."
The mention of divine conflict immediately captured everyone's attention. Even Somo paused in his enthusiastic eating, sensing the gravity in the monk's tone.
'It even involves the beginning of the Age of Gods?' Kurtz thought, his pulse quickening with excitement.
He quickly shifted closer, leaning his entire body forward and tilting his ear toward Kraft, preparing to absorb every detail of this secret history.
Knowledge like this was precisely why he'd chosen to travel with these long-lived companions; their memories reached back through centuries that human historians could only guess about.
However, in his eagerness, he didn't notice that his entire body now pressed against Serie's side.
When awareness finally struck him, he realized his thigh pressed firmly against hers, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating through her travel clothes.
The faint fragrance that seemed to cling to her, something like wildflowers and morning dew, filled his senses.
For a moment, panic fluttered in his chest. He'd overstepped, surely.
But Miss Serie seemed not to mind this unexpected contact. Her breathing remained steady, her posture unchanged.
For her, as long as Kurtz wasn't actively restraining her freedom like he had that awkward night in the tent, casual contact remained acceptable.
Seeing that she showed no signs of discomfort or desire to move away, Kurtz made a shameless decision and simply settled more comfortably beside her, abandoning any pretense of accidental contact.
Kraft's knowing smile suggested he'd noticed the entire wordless exchange, but the monk mercifully continued his narration without comment.
"Elves have always worshipped the Goddess of Creation," he began, his voice taking on the cadence of someone recounting sacred history.
"But the goddess never chose the elves as her people, her direct kin. That honor belonged to the Skywing Clan."
The revelation hung in the air like incense smoke. Kurtz filed away this crucial detail, understanding that it explained much about elven culture and their complex relationship with divine authority.
"When the War of the Gods erupted, the Goddess of Creation inevitably drew herself into the conflict. Her nature demanded it; life itself faced threats from forces that would consume or corrupt everything green and growing."
Kraft paused, staring into the flames as if seeing those ancient battles reflected in the dancing light.
"This created a schism among our people. Some elves believed absolutely that we should fight for our goddess, that our loyalty demanded we take up arms in her defense. They argued that she granted our long lives and magical gifts specifically for such moments of crisis."
His hands clenched slightly around his skewer, betraying emotional investment in events that had occurred centuries before his birth.
"But another significant portion of our people held that the elves' choices in war should remain independent of religious faith. They believed that blind obedience, even to a benevolent goddess, represented a form of spiritual slavery that diminished our nature as thinking beings."
Serie shifted slightly beside Kurtz, her expression thoughtful. This philosophical divide clearly resonated with her own struggles regarding duty versus personal conviction.
"The debates raged for years," Kraft continued. "Ancient elders who had remained silent for centuries spoke passionately in council meetings. Families found themselves split along ideological lines that had never existed before."
"What happened in the end?" Somo asked, completely absorbed despite his usual disinterest in political matters.
Kraft's expression grew heavier.
"The final result was schism. Those who chose active participation left the forest entirely, abandoning not just their homes but the very title of 'Eldest Elves', renouncing the ancient designation that connected them to the forest's original settlers."
"That sounds a bit like some legend about the Strongest Elf in History versus the Strongest Modern Elf," Kurtz said with an inexplicable sigh, the parallel striking him as both familiar and melancholy.
But the others couldn't understand his reference at all, their blank expressions making it clear he'd drawn from knowledge they didn't share.
"The Strongest Elf in History?" Kraft asked with genuine interest, leaning forward. "Are you referring to Lucimy the Lightbringer? Perhaps Laidoras the Eternal? Or maybe Kael'thas the Starweaver?"
Kraft rattled off several names that meant absolutely nothing to Kurtz, though they obviously represented legendary figures to anyone familiar with elven history.
The reverent way he spoke suggested these heroes' deeds still inspired awe even among elves who had lived through multiple centuries.
Realizing his slip, Kurtz quickly backpedaled. "Ah, it's just some half-remembered legend I heard back in my tribe. Actually, I don't recall the specific names, just the general concept of old power versus new approaches."
Serie studied him with those perceptive eyes, her expression suspicious. "Human tribes preserve legends about specific elves? That seems... unusual."
She had questioned him about his origins before, and he'd only provided the vague explanation about coming from beyond the eastern sea, some vast human country that required ocean travel to reach.
The story sounded plausible enough, since few people had comprehensive knowledge of what lay across distant waters.
But Serie remained skeptical of details that didn't quite fit together, and her sharp mind constantly noted inconsistencies in his background story.
"Well..." Kurtz continued weaving his fabrication.
"Perhaps some traveling merchant or wandering adventurer shared it after meeting elves during their journeys. You know how tales get passed down and grow embellished over time."
It offered a reasonable explanation, and in this type of fantasy world where communication between distant regions faced limitations, no one could definitively verify what stories might exist in far-off lands.
So Kurtz felt comfortable continuing his deception, at least until someone with broader geographical knowledge challenged his claims.
Kraft laughed heartily, apparently satisfied with the explanation. "I see! It seems we have achieved quite a reputation among human communities. That's both flattering and slightly concerning, depending on which aspects of our nature have become legendary."
'Indeed, quite famous,' Kurtz mused silently.
'But over time, that reputation became increasingly distorted and romanticized in ways that would probably horrify you.'
This time, he kept the observation to himself, having learned to avoid comments that would require elaborate explanations of knowledge he shouldn't possess.
Somo, who had listened with the patience of someone accustomed to long stories around campfires, suddenly interjected.
"So what happened next? What became of the elves who abandoned the forest?"
Kurtz had already formed theories about the subsequent events, the broad strokes seeming predictable given what he understood about this world's history.
But hearing details from someone who had lived through the aftermath would provide invaluable context.
Kraft's expression became gravely serious.
"They established the Elf Kingdom in the northern reaches, built cities of white stone that gleamed like captured starlight, and committed themselves fully to this God War that lasted two thousand years."
The campfire popped and hissed, sending sparks spiraling into the dark sky as if echoing the ancient conflicts he described.
"They became warriors, diplomats, strategists, everything the forest elves had traditionally avoided. Their magic evolved from nurturing growth to wielding destruction. Their songs changed from celebrations of natural harmony to battle hymns and funeral dirges."
"Until now," Serie added softly, her voice carrying a note of complex emotion.
As a current member of the Elf Forest, she found herself envying these departed elves quite intensely.
To participate openly and unrestrainedly in the great conflicts that shaped the world, to take decisive action instead of maintaining cautious neutrality, it represented a kind of freedom she craved but could never claim.
Her own commitment to the forest's passive traditions felt increasingly like chains, beautiful and comfortable chains, but restraints nonetheless.
After Serie finished speaking, everyone fell silent for several long moments. The gentle evening breeze made the campfire flames dance hypnotically, and night sounds from the surrounding forest provided a peaceful counterpoint to the heavy historical discussion.
Finally, Kraft broke the contemplative silence.
"However, Serie," he said, his tone shifting to something more personal and concerned, "have you reconsidered your intentions yet?"
The question came without preamble, but both Serie and Kurtz immediately understood what he meant.
Her desire to eventually challenge the dangerous areas where even experienced elves feared to tread, her restless ambition to test herself against the world's greatest threats.
Kraft sighed deeply when he saw Serie remain silent, her jaw set in that stubborn line he'd come to recognize over their weeks of travel together.
"Very well," he said finally. "But please, do not venture into those forbidden places rashly, not until you feel absolutely certain your strength suffices for whatever you might encounter."
His journey with these companions would end at the Gemier Forest, where their paths would diverge. After that point, his ability to offer guidance or assistance would vanish entirely.
So, this represented his final opportunity to impart crucial warnings, his last chance to perhaps save her from the consequences of youthful overconfidence.
Serie nodded seriously, understanding the weight behind his words. "I know my current limitations."
"That's reassuring," Kraft said, though his expression suggested lingering worry. He turned his attention to Kurtz, studying the young man with calculating eyes. "Take good care of her."
Kurtz couldn't help but laugh at the reversed expectations. "I think she should take care of me, honestly."
From any objective assessment of their respective combat capabilities, Serie clearly dominated as the more formidable fighter.
Her magical abilities far exceeded his own developing skills, and her elven reflexes made her deadly in close combat as well.
Kraft's lips curved in a knowing smile. "From a pure strength perspective, that's undeniably true. But..."
He gave Kurtz a meaningful look that seemed to see straight through to his soul.
"You are the first being Serie has ever valued so highly. That creates responsibilities that go far beyond physical protection."
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