Lying on his back, Ray stared at the ceiling.

Since the moment the group of five came out of the cave, this seemed to be the first calm moment he experienced.

From being mistaken as scouts, taken captive, almost sentenced to death to running away, killing for the first time and fighting for his life against the Spirit. Thinking back Ray was astounded that his psyche didn't crumble yet, despite all he went through...although he had a slight panic attack when he stabbed that soldier.

The blood he had on his hands was already nowhere to be seen, but the feeling still didn't go away. He had resigned to the fact that he was now a murderer...

'And that bite...'

In the fight with the Lõtv and the Spirit, Ray had shown a ferocity he didn't know he possessed, ultimately leading to him gnawing on the Spirits neck without any intention of backing out. The rational decision in that situation would be to comply with the Spirit and look for a way to persevere his life, later on, but the anger he felt couldn't be contained. He had to unleash or be torn to pieces by it.

Was it the desperation rousing his slumbering instincts showing him a path to live, or his true nature coming to the forefront, now that he didn't have to fear the consequences of his actions anymore?

'Let's not think about this anymore. I have to decide what I'm going to do now.'

He had too many questions about this World. To start with the fact that all the people he met until know spoke English to him, independent of their race. If it was just the Humans, he could have written it off as a weird coincidence, but the Elves and Spirit?

Since none of them were surprised at him understanding them, there had to be a universal language they all spoke. A language he seemed to have learned the moment he arrived.

Next was the geography of this place. Although he still wondered how the mountains and the forest could have such clear divide, he already accepted it, since he also bore witness to magic. But he needed information on a larger scale. Was he on a continent or an island? How many continents existed, and what races inhabited them? Where was the next human settlement? Was a war ongoing or was that army for something else here?

Without knowing any of these, it was difficult to decide for him what he was supposed to do, with the only thing being clear that he couldn't stay in this village.

After hearing the story of this place from Kymil, it was clear that whatever the Spirit did to him would be worse than death. Being turned into a mindless slave or sapped of his vitality to maintain the Lõtv were both not ideal prospects, but to prevent that from happening he would have to escape from the area the Spirit controlled or kill it in one fell swoop so that it cannot regenerate using its magic.

The second option didn't seem like a realistic plan, as he would have to storm through a few dozen Lõtv, so Ray focused on how to break out without anyone noticing.

Just a few hours ago he had already done the same, but this time he couldn't count on an army attacking the village. He would have to ensure the distraction himself.

Turning to the side, he saw the 'old' Elves cuddling in the darkness. It wasn't only Humans that could adapt to any situation as it seemed. Even with their children taken from them and no hope in sight, these people lived to their utmost, not losing faith and hoping for a miracle.

'Maybe I can...'

....

The next few days passed unexpectedly uneventful. Neither the Spirit nor the Lõtv came for him, making it seem like he was forgotten.

Occasionally a few Lõtv would come into the house, dumping a load of fruits for everyone to eat and drag one of the Elves out. Not all of them came back, and those that did looked even more haggard than before. Some of them died a short while after they were dropped off, adding the odor of death to the already depressing ambiance.

Over this period of captivity, Ray had already formulated a plan, on how to escape, but needed the right opportunity to make a run for it. One that, he decided, the Elves would create for him.

He started with feigning sympathy about the state the Elf village was in and ranted every day how hateful the Spirit was, reinforcing the idea that they had to take revenge no matter what. After the flames of hatred were reignited within the Elves and they were riled up to a near boiling point, he gave them small balls of moss, dipped in the sap of the branch of the pine tree that grew from the back inside the house, wrapped in pieces of his cotton T-Shirt. When they were picked up to serve as a vitality dispenser, they hid them inside their clothes so the Spirit wouldn't notice anything amiss.

Ray didn't consider this as unethical as he really felt sympathy for them,...even though not as much as he pretended to. He also didn't force anybody to participate in the operation, leaving it to them whether they wanted to enact revenge or not.

"Kymil, how is everyone's mood?"

"Mmh, a lot of them are getting impatient and want to know what exactly you have planned. To be honest, I'm also curious. Although I don't approve of you manipulating the others, this situation has continued for too long already. At this rate, we'll be wiped out, so I want to seize this chance."

"Don't worry the plan will commence soon enough, but before that, I need all of your utmost trust and determination to see this through. When we start to resist casualties are bound to occur. I don't want any panicking old fogeys waddling around, messing everything up."

"Hmph, trust is not that easily earned kid. The only reason we are listening to you is because we don't have any alternative. And don't worry about us panicking. Even the youngest among us has ten times more experience than a smelly brat like you, not speak of our determination to kill the Spirit."

"....Just be ready."

....

The days in imprisonment continuing, Ray spend his time fueling the Elves anger every now and then, learning the layout of the village and the surrounding forest and fish for information about this world using the stories they told him.

Lately, he had grown quite fond of the geezers who shared his plight. Even though they were an entirely different species, none of them actively discriminated against or tried to put him down, with only the casual passing remarks about the idiocy all Humans seemed to share in their opinion.

Apparently, the Elves in this forest lived in societies arranged as Clans, with the bigger ones having more of a say of the way they face Factions outside the Woods. Since the Clans who were in power over the last few decades didn't hold much supremacist views, the overall atmosphere in the forest leaned towards accepting alien races, as long as they didn't cause trouble.

Not only once caused this friendly attitude him a sleepless night.

If possible, he wanted to help them. Free the children of the enslavement forced on them, contact other Elven communities, maybe even try to restore their lost vitality. But in the end, he always had to remind himself of the simple fact that he couldn't do any of those. He was no superhero or had any special powers. No one to back him up, no authority and nothing that could help him overcome the situation.

As the Spirit said, in a World where the strong preyed on the weak, he couldn't even protect his own puny life. Speaking of rescuing others was nothing but a daydream. A fantasy only those who climbed to the top deserved to live.

He couldn't give up a real possibility of escaping for a rosy ideal with an absurdly low chance of success.

If this ordeal was over, he could still come back later on, with more support or spread the news of the events that transpired here. Someone was sure to take action.

'That's right...It's not my responsibility...'

He himself was stranded in a foreign World, all his friend lost and with no idea how he is supposed to survive after this, so why did he have to bother himself with the future of people he only knew for a few days?

Securing his own survival was the top priority. Everything else came second,...even if it concerned the life of others.