Episode 10: A Choice Beyond Nature
Elahar had been assigned to explore an ancient ruin. His expedition party consisted of members from various races, and the deeper they went, the stranger the air became—as if the power of nature no longer reached that place. Magic weakened step by step, and even the elves' innate bond with nature grew faint, filling everyone with unease.
Eventually, the party reached a massive stone gate. It was sealed with a mechanism that ordinary magic could not open, and even nature's power failed before it.
Among them, a human engineer produced a peculiar device—made of gears and metal, a tool almost never seen in the Elven Kingdom. He claimed it could force the gate open. But such machinery, an artifice that defied the flow of nature, was forbidden among elves.
"In a place where nature fails us, this is our only choice. Without this device, we go no further," the human urged, looking to Elahar.
Elahar's heart wavered. For the elves, harmony with nature was the highest law. To use such a tool was to betray their very essence. Yet here, in this suffocating place, with his comrades' survival at stake, he realized clinging to the old ways might mean their end.
"For an elf, defying nature is a fearful thing. But… if all our lives hang in the balance—" Elahar exhaled and set aside his hesitation.
Together with the engineer, he activated the forbidden device. It groaned and clicked, metal grinding against stone as it slowly stirred to life. Strange, alien, unsettling—yet it worked. The colossal gate creaked open, revealing a new passage beyond. The path had not been opened by the song of the earth, but by artifice, and it left Elahar both uneasy and strangely awed.
"Perhaps nature alone is not the only answer… There are other ways in this world, ways I have yet to understand."
That moment shook him. He saw that survival and strength sometimes demanded stepping beyond tradition. Yet when the machine's noise faded, his bond with nature remained intact. He realized that true strength lay not only in harmony but also in flexibility.
When the expedition ended, Elahar carried with him not guilt but a quiet confidence. He would always revere nature, but he understood now that shackling himself to ancient dogma would not make him stronger. Choosing freely—choosing wisely—was what gave a warrior true power.
"The road ahead will demand more choices. Not nature alone, but my will shall guide me…"
Elahar felt his path shifting. His roots lay in nature, but his future would demand that he walk beyond it. This choice marked the first step toward becoming a warrior who could embrace many powers and wield them as his own.
***
Episode 11: Conflicting Contracts and Reunion
Elahar received a new assignment from the guild: protect an important figure, a mission weighty enough to carry a substantial reward. When he arrived, he saw other mercenaries already gathered. The air was tense. Then he caught sight of a familiar face—Brakka.
They had crossed paths once before, but no bond had formed between them. Brakka gave a curt nod, and Elahar returned it; nothing more than acknowledgment. But this time, fate had set them on opposite sides. Brakka had been contracted to protect another target—one whose interests directly clashed with Elahar's mission. A confrontation was inevitable.
The two warriors locked eyes, reading each other with the intuition of fighters. Each knew the other stood as an obstacle that could not be ignored.
"Elahar. I did not expect to meet you here," Brakka said in a low voice as he approached.
"Such is the nature of contracts. But this feels less like coincidence, doesn't it? Almost as if someone wanted us in the same place," Elahar replied, his gaze steady.
Brakka frowned slightly, considering. It was rare—two skilled warriors with overlapping missions. Rare enough to suspect manipulation.
But there was no time for speculation. Duty demanded action, and steel left its sheath. The two circled each other, their eyes keen, their stances taut with focus. Elahar wielded the swiftness and precision of an elven swordsman; Brakka stood firm in the raw strength and resilience of a human warrior.
Their clash was more than steel—it was trial and measure. They tested each other's skill, their blades striking sparks, their movements revealing discipline and pride.
"You are formidable indeed. I did not expect to meet one of your caliber here," Brakka admitted with a wry grin.
"And your strength is no rumor either. But know this—I will not yield. My mission stands." Elahar's voice was calm yet unshakable.
Even as their blades danced, something shifted. Respect crept into their strikes, an unspoken acknowledgment. They began to sense the truth: their conflict might not be mere chance.
When Elahar suggested this was a test, perhaps orchestrated by someone within the guild, Brakka's eyes narrowed in agreement. A design meant to pit them against one another.
"If this is another's scheme… what then?" Elahar asked, pausing for breath.
"Then we need not play their game," Brakka replied with a thin, knowing smile as he lowered his sword.
They both realized survival and honor meant more than being pawns in another's plan. For now, they would set aside the fight.
With mutual nods, they sheathed their blades. Warriors with clear paths, yet now bound by newfound respect.
"This time, I'll yield. But the next time we meet, it will be different," Brakka said with a faint grin.
"I welcome it. Next time, I'll prove myself stronger still," Elahar answered firmly.
They parted with a warrior's salute, each carrying the weight of their mission but also the knowledge that their paths would cross again. Elahar left with a deeper resolve: true strength meant not only skill with a blade, but guarding one's path against manipulation. His choices—his convictions—would remain his own.
***
Episode 12: A Party of Vengeance
During their mission, Elahar and Brakka found themselves forced into direct conflict, testing one another's strength in a bitter clash. Yet in the midst of battle, they realized the truth—this assignment was no mere coincidence. It had been engineered to pit them against each other, to drive them into danger. Traps had been set around them, wards erected, snares laid to block their escape and threaten their lives.
Fury welled within them. In the mercenary world, a warrior's strength was his dignity, his right to stand unbent. To be used as pawns in another's scheme was an insult neither could forgive.
"Brakka… this reeks of a setup. They thought us little more than pieces on their board," Elahar muttered coldly.
"Then we'll teach them a lesson. Let's show them we are no one's pawns," Brakka replied with a sharp smile, his hand tightening on his sword.
Days later, the two warriors reunited outside the guild hall of those who had orchestrated the scheme. They exchanged a wordless glance, a faint, knowing smile. No speech was needed; their resolve was the same. Together, they pushed open the doors.
Inside, the guild was lively, filled with laughter and drink. Mercenaries boasted of successes, mugs clashed. But as Elahar and Brakka entered, silence bled into the room. Faces stiffened, hands froze around cups, and unease spread like smoke.
"Guild brothers, we thank you for the invitation," Elahar said evenly, his smile calm. "Allow us to repay the favor… properly."
"Yes. It's only fair you see how grateful we truly are," Brakka added, his grin dark as he drew his blade.
Words ceased. Steel sang. The two warriors struck with ruthless precision, cutting down those who had sought to toy with them. Their blades were not wanton but deliberate—every strike a warning, every blow a declaration that they were beyond manipulation.
Together, they fought in seamless tandem, sometimes striking side by side, sometimes breaking apart to crush resistance from different angles. The guild's revelry shattered into chaos, its wine-soaked hall drowned in screams and blood. The survivors cowered beneath the weight of vengeance made flesh.
At last, Elahar lowered his blade. "I believe the lesson has been taught. What do you think, Brakka?"
"They'll remember this well. They know now—we are no pawns. This should suffice," Brakka answered, steadying his breath as he sheathed his sword.
Elahar approached the battered guildmaster, his eyes hard as steel."If you ever dare attempt to control warriors like us again, the next result will be far worse than this. Do not repeat your mistake."
The hall lay broken, a grim testament. The two warriors turned their backs without hesitation, leaving the guild in ruins.
Outside, Elahar and Brakka exchanged a silent glance, a bond forged in blood and defiance.
"One day, we'll meet again. Perhaps then we'll throw another party like this," Brakka said with a wry smile.
"Next time, without uninvited guests. A gathering only of true warriors," Elahar replied, his lips curving in a knowing smile.
***
Episode 13: Elahar's Fame and the Call of the Past
By now, Elahar had become one of the guild's most profitable mercenaries, famed as a relentless hunter of criminals. His reputation carried two titles: the old—the Elven Swordmaster, and the new—the Crime Hunter. But Elahar himself cared little for names or whispers. He walked his path in silence, as he always had.
One day, after finishing a job and preparing for the next, an elf swordsman from his past appeared before him. Once, they had trained together under the same master. Unlike the sneers and mockery Elahar had grown used to from his kin, this elf approached with uncharacteristic respect.
"It's been a long time, Elahar. You look as strong as ever."
Elahar received the greeting quietly, memories of old days stirring. But his visitor had not come for pleasantries.
"I bring a message from Master Aedurans. His time grows short. He wishes to see you one last time."
At the name, Elahar closed his eyes briefly. Aedurans—the stern yet revered teacher of his youth, who had forged him and others into swordsmen. Elahar had left the Elven Kingdom to walk his own path, seeking freedom beyond the master's rigid teachings. To see him again was not a thought he welcomed.
"I am busy. I have no time to answer such a summons," Elahar replied coldly. Yet beneath the words, something stirred.
The messenger hesitated, then spoke again."He always called you his finest pupil. He still speaks of you with pride. His life nears its end, Elahar. This is not merely a summons, but the last wish of the one who guided you."
Silence fell. The word pupil lingered, piercing his guard. To turn his back on a dying master felt heavy, dishonorable. His chest tightened with a burden he could not ignore. Slowly, he lowered his head.
"…Very well. I will go to him."
Thus resolved, Elahar set out once more, his steps heavy with memory. Whatever lay ahead, he would meet the end of his teacher's road with open eyes.