Lyris was still inside the barrel 🛢️.
Still screaming 😡.Still thrashing 💥.Still failing 🚫.
The thick wood creaked under her rage… but the bindings didn't shift even a fraction.
Whoever tied them understood tension.Angles.Leverage 🎯.
Better than she ever had.
Aren sat on top of her prison.
Legs crossed.
Drinking milk 🥛.
Slowly.Neatly.Calmly.
So calm it felt like an insult to her entire bloodline 😌.
Peace never lasted long in Arclight.
BOOM 💥
The guild doors burst open.
Wind roared through the hall 🌪️.
Tables rattled.Mugs crashed 🍺.Papers scattered like frightened birds 🕊️.
No one complained.
No one moved.
Four figures entered.
All elves.All armed ⚔️.All furious 🔥.
At the front—
A tall man.
Silver hair tied cleanly.Emerald armor gleaming like polished forest light 🌿✨.
Every movement precise.
Every step controlled.
Every breath dangerous.
Guild Master Elandor Vael'Thora 👑
Behind him—
Three elite archers 🏹.
Bows half-drawn.Fingers resting on strings.
Eyes locked on Aren 🎯.
Calculating distance.Angles.Kill paths.
Silence swallowed the guild 🧊.
A spoon slipped.
Clink.
It sounded like thunder ⚡.
Elandor stepped forward.
His voice—
Calm.
Too calm.
"Where," he said slowly,"is my daughter?"
Aren pointed down 👇.
At the barrel 🛢️.
It shook violently.
"DAAAD!! DO SOMETHING!!" 😡💢"THIS—THIS THING—TIED ME LIKE A POTATO!!"
The archers tensed.
One breath from release.
Then—
The old man appeared 🧓.
No sound.No movement.
Just… there.
He didn't raise a hand.
Didn't speak.
Didn't change expression.
And the elves froze ❄️.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Something older than rank.
Something that whispered—
Don't. Move.
Elandor inhaled.
Slow.
Controlled.
Exhaled.
"Explain."
Aren took a sip 🥛.
"She shot me."
A vein pulsed faintly at Elandor's temple.
"That does not justify humiliating a Vael'Thora heir."
Aren nodded.
"Correct."
Pause.
"That's why I dropped the weight inside the guild… not outside." 😌
The old man coughed.
Very close to laughter.
From the barrel—
"FATHER!! EXECUTE HIM!!" 😡🔥"HE TREATED ME LIKE AN OBJECT!!"
Elandor closed his eyes.
Not anger.
Disappointment.
He opened them.
Locked onto Aren 🎯.
"Release her."
Aren tilted his head.
"Why?"
SHNNK 🏹
The archers fully drew.
The air thickened.
Sound died.
The old man raised one hand ✋.
"Enough."
His voice didn't rise.
It didn't need to.
"If your guild wishes to contest ours," he said calmly,"then we follow tradition."
Elandor narrowed his eyes.
"Guild against guild?"
"Individual," the old man corrected."No politics. No armies. No interference."
Murmurs spread 🌫️.
Inside the barrel—
Lyris went still.
Elandor looked down.
"Lyris. Your complaint?"
She straightened as much as possible.
"I want a duel." 😤
He turned to Aren.
"And you?"
Aren shrugged.
"She insulted me for thirty minutes."
The barrel rattled violently 💥.
"She also shot me over a mushroom."
Elandor pressed two fingers to his forehead 😩.
Silence.
Heavy.
"…Very well."
He pointed toward the distant green horizon 🌿.
"The Emerald Wilds."
"Two days."
"A continuous hunt."
The elf archers smiled 😈.
From the barrel—
Laughter.
Wild.
Sharp.
"Perfect!!" 😆"That jungle is mine!!"
"I, Lyris Vael'Thora of Branch Five, accept!"
"If I fail to land a single hit on him in two days—"
"I lose!!"
The guild held its breath.
Aren glanced at the old man.
"Fine."
"If I win, I want something."
Elandor raised an eyebrow.
"And what do you want?"
Aren answered instantly.
"I want her to stop talking."
The guild—
exploded 😂🔥
The elves nearly fired on instinct.
The barrel shook with pure rage.
"UNACCEPTABLE!! NO!! FATHER!! STOP THIS!!" 😡💢
Too late.
It was done.
Two days ⏳.The Emerald Wilds 🌿.A hunt 🎯.
One hit decides everything.
The old man nodded.
"It's official."
Elandor stepped closer.
Voice low.
"My daughter has never lost a hunt."
Aren finished his milk 🥛.
Set the cup down.
"Then she'll learn something new."
Lyris screamed.
Furious.Sharp.Endless.
And the entire guild felt it.
This wasn't a fight.
It was a collision 🌑⚔️💥
Two worlds.
Two instincts.
Two hunters.
And neither one—
was going to stop.