"Anya..!" you run past the squadron of elven warriors toward the row of tents hosting the injured.

Grimdal struggles to keep pace with you as you use your Supersonic Speed, and from far behind he yells, "Garden Beast! Wait for me!"

Surveying the area, you realize just how ruthless these attackers were. Clusters of arrows pepper every surface within a 5-mile radius, and they resemble the quills of a porcupine.

You rush to the medical canopy that was hastily set up and find Anya on a chair, with a dressing wrapped around her left arm.

"N-Nameless Seer," she's surprised to see you as you step into the cloth shelter, "what are you doing here?!"

"Anya!" you rush to her side. "Are you okay?!"

"D-don't worry..! It's not as serious as it looks! An arrow simply grazed my arm!"

"It is serious! What if a worse fate were to befall you?!"

The girl is startled by your anger, and her eyes swelled with tears.

"I-I'm sorry..."

"How did you even end up on the watchtower? I hand-picked every single guard that would be stationed here at all times. Did someone force you into this? Give me their name and I'll have a word with them."

"N-no..! No one forced me into anything! I was the one who went above and beyond to work here..!"

"You were..?"

Anya clutches her knees and nods. "I noticed one of the sentries was ill, so I offered to take his place. He initially refused, but after pestering him some more, he finally caved and let me act as his replacement."

"I've been wondering this for a long time... but why do you constantly strive to prove your worth to me?"

"That... I cannot answer..." she averts her gaze.

You glance at the other injured soldier. Unlike Anya, he is critically injured as an arrow has found its way into his abdomen. The village priests focus all their healing magic on him, keeping the man in a stable condition.

And what stirs up inside you as you see these two injured elves, is rage. Pure and unadulterated fury.

The existence of these hooded attackers, those who knowingly take the lives of others, infuriates you to the bone. There is a selfishness in depriving someone of experiencing this world, while they themselves continue to bask in its wonders.

It disgusts you to no end.

"G-Garden Beast..!" Grimdal finally catches up with you. "How do things look?!"

"Grimdal," you turn from Anya and swiftly stride to the site of the battle. "Lend me your sword."

"My... sword..?"

"The Lunar Glaive. Hand it over, now."

The man unsheathes his blade without question and gives it to you. You stare at your reflection in the metal that makes up the weapon, and you turn back to Anya with a dour expression.

"Anya, where were you standing when you were shot, and where did the arrow come from. Be as specific as possible," you inquire with a grave tone.

"I-I was at the northernmost tower on the west side of the base... and the arrow came from the southwest..."

"Judging by your wound... the general location would be..."

Using Supersonic Speed, you zip around and scour the fields nearby. And you return with an arrow in your hand, its tip stained with blood.

"O-oi... don't tell me that's the same arrow..!" Grimdal looks on with amazement.

You bring the arrow's tail up to your nose and quietly mutter, "I've got it..."

"What was that..?"

"I've got the assailant's scent. The Pathfinder talent picked it up."

"T-that means..!"

"You two stay here. I'll only be a minute."

Anya jumps up from her seat, worried by what you mean. "W-where are you going?!"

"I'm going to teach those hooded men not to treat life so lightly."

With those haunting words, you sprint off and disappear in a blink of an eye.

"S-she can't be serious..." Grimdal is stunned, and he grips his scabbard with regret in his heart.

"Nameless Seer..." Anya stares off into the woods in which you entered.

The smell creates a trail that weaves through the woodland, but you don't take the time to adhere to this long-winded path.

And you cut and burst through the forests and bushes, with a single target in your crosshairs: the bastard who hurt Anya. The Lunar Glaive's blue glow beneath the tree shade alerts the wildlife to your impending arrival.

As you have Force Absorption, you use this as an opportunity to build up your strength, and you purposely run into obstacles to further your power. This power coheres in the hand clenching your weapon, and you can feel the energy exponentially increase.

Upon making it out of the woods and into a sunny glade, you spot pillars of smoke rising in the distance. And you can tell this is where the attackers have settled.

You raise your sword as you swiftly approach a cluster of tents populated by diminutive soldiers. And you zero in on the unlucky individual who unwittingly provoked your ire. He stands at the edge of the camp and you charge past the clueless warriors to strike this man down.

He turns around right as you're about to unleash your strongest attack to date. You expect the blow to land, but instead, you find yourself launched off-course by an unseen force.

Having been flung in the air, you crash through several tents before finding your footing. And you flip in the air and anchor your boots to the dirt ground and skid across the soil, stopping yourself from hitting any more structures.

You look up to face the person who brought an end to momentum, and are met with a short buff man with a long bushy beard and gray skin. He is surrounded by gray men of similar stature, who all stare at you in confusion.

"And here I thought this would be a slow day!" his voice is coarse and he wields a war hammer twice his size. "You got a lotta nerve bustin' into a camp full of Stoneweaver Dwarves, elf!"

"Stoneweaver... Dwarves..?" you recall seeing this name in Darius' book.

"Hm? You speak Dwarvish? Well, no matter. I'll be cleaning this hammer of your blood soon."

You take his threat seriously and decide to prepare a flame spell.

Unlocked Spells Element Type IGNIS FIRE TOUCH FLAMMA FIRE SPRAY AUGUE FIRE BOLT INFERNO FIRE AREA > FIGNUM FIRE EXPLOSION

As you don't have to worry about your mana reserves, you naturally resort to using the strongest spell in your arsenal, Fignum. The heat building up in your palm is a direct representation of the fiery wrath that clouds your mind.

The dwarf quickly notices the sparks in your hand and turns to warn the other soldiers. "Everyone move outta the way! The elf's gonna use magic!"

The dwarven warriors quickly retreat, which is honestly what you had hoped for. Had this spell killed countless other beings, you would have no doubt come out a different person. How you think and act when blinded by rage does not necessarily equal how you feel deep down, period.

"Fignum!" you shout, detonating half the camp into smithereens.

You think this scares off the dwarves, and they will think twice before making attempts on innocent people's lives. But you are unfortunately proven wrong when the silhouette of the hammer-carrying man materializes against the bright conflagration.

"Bwahahaha!" he guffaws triumphantly. "A fire spell?! Useless! My people and I were born from the ashes of Blackskull Mountain! We Stoneweaver Dwarves possess natural immunity to heat, foolish elf!"

"C-crap..!" you unequip your magic and rely on your sword.

"Enough playing around then! Say your prayers, idiot!"

And he dashes toward you with staggering speed. He's on the same level as Grimdal. You promptly swerve your blade to block his attack and are hit with an overwhelming amount of pressure from his hammer stroke.

As you have yet to master the Long-Blade skill, you find it difficult to parry his attacks. And you recourse to dodging with Supersonic Speed, but even then this man somehow keeps up with you.

"How many skills has he mastered?!" you think to yourself as you get pushed back. "He's practically on my level."

Using God's Eye you inspect his level.

Golimar

Mountain Dwarf [♀]

Level: 45

HP: 55000/55000

"Only Level 45?!" you cry out. And you now understand how Grimdal felt when he saw your description box.

"H-heh... gettin' tired yet?!" the dwarf forces a weak smirk. "I could do this all day..!"

You notice his movements gradually turning sluggish. All of a sudden, you can block his every strike. And the power behind his attacks weakens at the same time. It takes you a second to register what's happening.

Then, it hits you. Not literally, of course, he's too slow for that.

"Oh. You don't have a stamina talent... huh..?" you ask him mid-fight.

"W-what?! N-no! What are you talkin' about?!" his lies aren't convincing.

"It hasn't even been five minutes you know..?"

"S-shut up, elf! I'll turn you into jam and spread you on my toast!"

This persists for a couple more minutes before the dwarf finally collapses from exhaustion. And while this is an anti-climactic ending, it does mean you get to secure a victory. You stand over the man sprawling across the grass and place your foot on his back.

And you victoriously pose, in an unsatisfying manner.

The dwarven soldiers gather around you and are shocked to see their strongest comrade defeated by a mere elf.

You turn to them and lever the Lunar Glaive at the man whose arrow scraped Anya. "You over there, your arrow hit my friend. And there's one other person here whose arrow struck an innocent elven archer in the vitals. I want both of you to step forward, or else I'll wipe every single person here without discrimination."

Spates of murmurs come up from the crowd of dwarves, and when they peter out, another man emerges from the group. He is a young dwarf with a pair of large goggles. He shivers as he makes his way to the front.

"So, you two are the unlucky bastards who shot my friends," you glare at them. "Since I'm not a fan of killing and all that, I'll spare your lives."

They let out sighs of relief.

"But," you cruelly continue, "to make sure you never hurt another person again. I'll be taking your dominant arms from you. That's how the humans punish people, and that's how I'll punish you."

Suddenly, a figure pops out from the dwarves. A considerably taller man wearing a strikingly familiar mask you've seen long ago.

"Stop! The attack was my idea!" the masked individual defends the dwarves. "If there's anyone to be punished, it's me! Take my arms instead! One for each offense!"

Your eyes widen and you drop your sword. "Darius..?"