Another day.
Another kill.
The forest floor was painted in the blood of beasts — thick, black, and steaming under the afternoon sun.
I swung my bone sword once more, cleaving through the neck of a scaled wolf.
The creature howled briefly before silence returned.
A faint ding echoed in my ears.
[System Notification]
Day 55 — The Dragon 'Rhazakar, the Crimson Death' has been defeated.
Main Quest Completed.
Rewards distributed to qualified participants.
And just like that… the quest vanished from my interface.
No celebration. No fanfare.
Only the quiet wind, and the hollow thump of my heart.
> "Someone… defeated it."
For a moment, I stood frozen.
Then a strange relief washed over me, heavy but warm.
The dragon was gone.
Which meant the empire — my friends — might still be alive.
But even as I smiled faintly, I realized… something inside me had gone numb.
The endless fighting, the solitude, the blood — they'd all worn me down.
> "Level fifty-five…"
My voice cracked as I stared at my trembling hands.
I wasn't happy anymore.
No thrill. No pride. Only exhaustion.
My reflection in a puddle looked almost unrecognizable — my eyes dull, my hair longer, my armor shattered.
I was still standing, but my sanity was slipping, one heartbeat at a time.
Then—
> crack
A sound broke through the silence.
Leaves rustled softly above me.
I spun around, raising my blade.
It wasn't a monster.
A figure stepped out from between the trees — graceful, light-footed, and impossibly calm.
Long, silver hair flowed down her shoulders, shimmering in the sunlight.
Her skin was pale as moonlight, her emerald eyes sharp and focused.
Pointed ears peeked through her hair — unmistakably Elven.
She held a sleek bow, its string drawn, a glowing arrow aimed straight at me.
> "You've killed too many creatures of the Silver Grove, outsider."
Her voice was melodic, yet cold.
Every word cut through the air like wind through glass.
I didn't move. I couldn't.
> "Wait— you're not a monster."
She narrowed her eyes, her arrow still drawn.
> "Monster or not, your presence has tainted this land for far too long."
I clenched my jaw, lowering my weapon slightly.
> "I didn't come here by choice."
> "No one ever does," she said quietly. "And yet, none have survived this deep into the forest—until you."
The bowstring tightened, the light of her arrow growing brighter.
For the first time in months, my heart pounded not from battle… but from something unfamiliar.
Was it fear?
Or awe?
> "Who are you?" I asked.
She paused, her gaze softening for a fraction of a second.
> "Lynelle of the Silver Grove," she said.
And then—
> twang!
The arrow flew.