Just as Aisen's silhouette dissolved into the mist, a dry "ting" echoed sharply in Ren's ears.
The system interface leapt up before his eyes, practically forcing his gaze to lock on it:
[An emergency quest has been triggered.]
[Emergency Orders]
Description: You and your Dark Elf companion have received an unexpected distress signal.
Status: Your companion has already departed, heading toward the source of the flare.
The glaring red word "Emergency" blinked furiously in the corner of the screen, as if intentionally trying to throw his heartbeat into chaos.
Ren frowned, a hint of unease stirring within him. An emergency quest… it wasn't in his plan, and certainly not something he intended to get tangled in right after barely escaping the jaws of a massive boss.
But the system never asked for opinions. It shoved the quest in his face like a pushy merchant forcing a deal, then stood back to watch him struggle with it.
The light from the flare still lingered faintly in the distant sky, hazy like a scratch across the mist. Aisen had vanished, but his warning "Don't get involved" still echoed in Ren's mind.
Ren stood motionless, his hand tightening unconsciously around the hilt of Windslash. Go… or not?
The best choice… was obviously to return to the Dark Elf camp and report everything. But just thinking about the distance he'd have to travel felt like having a bucket of cold water dumped over his head.
It would take at least half an hour to get back, then countless more dragging minutes for them to gather troops, gear up, and march here.
By then… Aisen might already be down.
Ren didn't know Aisen's full strength, but a Dark Elf who could solo a mini-boss in just a few breaths, with a sword hand so fast the naked eye could barely follow..
Even that kind of power wasn't a shield against all danger.
A distress signal… was never something a Dark Elf sent lightly.
It meant the sender was being pushed back or had reached their limit. And in most cases, that limit only lasted… a few minutes.
Two worst-case scenarios flashed in Ren's mind:
A group of Dark Elves cornered, backs to the wall, with no escape.
Or surrounded by an overwhelming army in numbers, like fire ants swarming prey.
Either way… both spelled a massacre without immediate backup.
Aisen was strong...very strong… but his opponents this time weren't the weak monsters of the 3rd floor. They were equals, honed by battlefields as far up as the 10th floor.
Ren grit his teeth. A faint crackle sounded as his fingers clenched the sword hilt, as though his own body was gathering force for a decision that could not be undone.
He opened the system, switching to his friends list. It was so short that one glance was enough to see it all, few names, but all ones Ren could trust.
Without hesitation, he pulled out a message scroll. These were scarce, and in his dire financial state, each one was worth its weight in gold.
But now, there was no room for calculations.
Ren scribbled a few words, terse to the point of being blunt, and sent them straight to Kirito. He could only hope the other read it… and acted in time.
Above, the flare faded into a dim streak of light, like the weakening breath of someone close to death. Ren clenched his jaw and gathered strength in his legs.
Without looking back, he dashed forward. The rush of wind and tearing leaves in his ears merged into one, pulling him toward the dying distress signal hidden in the forest mist.
Ren shot through dense canopies, the mist parting around his body like split fabric, only to seal back together behind him.
His heartbeat pounded in sync with the crunch of his boots over the thick carpet of dead leaves, a relentless rhythm driving him faster.
Gradually, another sound joined in, the sharp clash of steel on steel.
Ren knew he was close.
With each step, the pressure in the air grew heavier, as though an invisible giant hand was pressing against his chest, squeezing the breath from his lungs.
His pulse was so fast it seemed to hammer directly into his eardrums.
And then...through a gap between towering trunks, the battlefield came into view.
A group of Forest Elves in deep green armor were closing their formation around Aisen.
The gleam of their slim, curved blades caught the dim light filtering through the leaves, making the whole scene flicker like a deadly dance.
Behind Aisen, another Dark Elf sat slumped against the rough bark of a colossal tree, barely holding himself upright.
Dark crimson blood streamed from a wound at his side, soaking through his leather armor. Every breath was ragged, as if he were fighting not only the enemy, but also the pain tearing through him.
Aisen kept moving, his sword flashing in razor-sharp arcs, deflecting the relentless rain of attacks.
But even with a speed almost too fast for the eye to follow, the enemy's encirclement did not loosen in the slightest.
The balance of the battle was only temporary, and Ren knew with just one glance that it would soon collapse. No matter how strong one person was, they couldn't hold out forever against seven or eight opponents attacking in relentless rotation.
The rest of the Dark Elf squad had likely already fallen here. Ren realized this when his eyes passed over the black-engraved blades of his kin lying scattered across the cold, damp ground.
They lay there, silent and still, like nameless gravestones.
The coppery stench of blood mingled with the musty decay of old leaves, making the air stifling. A fierce battle had clearly taken place, and the evidence of it was etched onto every enemy body.
The Forest Elves weren't unscathed either, their deep-green armor was torn, revealing gashes beneath, some still oozing blood.
A few of them were panting, sweat mixing with blood that streamed down their faces. But at the front line, their comrades kept pressing Aisen, giving the wounded in the backline a chance to recover.
Ren's eyes flicked over their status bars: the weakest one's HP was barely a third full, yet the number was steadily climbing.
Their regenerative ability was as unnerving as the forest itself, cut down the branches, and it still found a way to grow back.
If they hadn't been injured before this, Ren was certain he'd have no chance at survival. Even now, they were still so strong that the very idea of winning felt like a cruel joke.
But he still had one thing left to cling to, time. If he could just hold out long enough… Kirito had replied to his message a few minutes ago. All Ren needed to do was survive, keep the battle in check until reinforcements arrived.
Ren took a deep breath, feeling as though the weight of the whole forest was pressing down on his chest. He drew Windslash from its sheath, the blade flashing a cold blue in the dim fog.
There was no time for hesitation.
He burst from his hiding spot, boots crushing the damp leaf litter, the noise snapping the attention of a few Forest Elves at the outer ring.
In the split-second they turned, Ren twisted his body and unleashed a \[Vertical Arc], forcing two of them back and briefly breaking the rear of the circle around Aisen.
"You..." one of them snarled, ready to lunge, but Aisen seized the opening, swinging his sword in a diagonal slash. Steel bit into flesh, blood arced into the air before shattering into ruby motes, dyeing the white mist red.
Aisen quickly closed the gap between them, mouth opening as if to speak, but he was cut off by another flurry of enemy strikes.
Ren had no illusions about defeating them; his only goal was to disrupt their tempo, force them to split their attention.
These foes seemed slower than the one he had faced before, likely the wounds from their earlier battle had taken their toll.
Even so, Ren had to work hard just to keep pace with the Forest Elves.
He moved constantly, staying just far enough away to avoid being cornered, but close enough to remain a threat.
The ragged breathing of the wounded Dark Elf behind them mixed faintly with the clash of steel. Ren tossed him an HP potion before focusing back on the deadlock.
Every second that passed meant Kirito was drawing closer.
He just had to… survive until then.
Aisen held off five or six enemies on his own, every swing of his sword precise and terrifyingly powerful.
On the other side, Ren faced the remaining two Forest Elves, both badly wounded, their HP barely a quarter full, the aftermath of Aisen's lightning-fast strikes seconds earlier.
A harsh clang rang out as Ren's Windslash caught a blow from the left. The impact sent numbness up his arm, the joints in his fingers threatening to give way.
Without thinking, Ren loosened his hips and let his whole body drop to the wet ground, rolling with the momentum.
The instant he rolled clear, another blade slashed across, ripping through the air.
It sliced past his back, carrying with it a chill wind and the burning sting of steel grazing his clothes. Half a second slower, and it would have cut him clean in two.
The scents of blood, damp earth, and his own ragged breath thickened in his throat.
Planting a hand on the ground, he pushed himself back to his feet, eyes locked on the foe ahead. They moved with slow, deliberate steps, like wolves patiently waiting for their prey to tire before delivering the killing blow.
Ren knew he could not retreat.