Lyris was still inside the barrel.
Still screaming.Still thrashing.Still failing to escape.
The thick wood creaked under her rage, but the bindings didn't loosen even slightly. Whoever had tied them understood tension, angles, and leverage far better than she did.
Aren sat on top of her wooden prison, legs crossed, drinking milk 🥛.
Slowly.Neatly.With such calm precision that it felt personally insulting to the entire elven race.
Peace, however, never lasted long in Arclight.
The guild doors exploded open 💥.
Wind tore through the hall, rattling tables, knocking over mugs, and scattering loose papers across the floor. A few adventurers cursed as their drinks spilled, but none dared complain.
Four figures entered.
All elves.All armed.All radiating fury.
At the front stood a tall man with silver hair tied neatly behind his back. Emerald armor hugged his frame, polished and flawless, every plate fitted for both beauty and war. His presence cut through the hall like sharpened glass.
Guild Master Elandor Vael'Thora.
Lyris's father.
Behind him stood three elite archers, bows half-drawn, fingers already resting on their strings 🏹. Their eyes locked onto Aren, measuring distance, angles, kill paths.
The guild went silent.
A spoon slipped from someone's hand.
The clatter against the stone floor echoed like thunder.
Elandor stepped forward.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"Where," he said slowly, "is my daughter?"
Aren pointed downward.
At the barrel.
It shook violently.
"DAAAD! DO SOMETHING!" Lyris screamed."THIS—THIS CREATURE—TIED ME LIKE A POTATO!"
The elf archers tensed.
One breath away from loosing arrows.
Then—
The old man appeared beside Aren.
No footsteps.No announcement.
He didn't raise a hand.Didn't draw a weapon.Didn't even change his expression.
He simply stood there.
And the elves froze.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
From something deeper than rank.
Something that whispered: Do not move.
Elandor inhaled slowly, then exhaled.
"Explain," he said.
Aren took another sip of milk 😌.
"She shot me."
A vein throbbed faintly at Elandor's temple.
"That does not justify humiliating a Vael'Thora heir."
Aren nodded once.
"That's why I dropped the weight inside the guild instead of outside."
The old man coughed.
Suspiciously close to a laugh.
From the barrel:
"FATHER! ORDER THEM TO EXECUTE HIM!""HE—HE TREATED ME LIKE AN OBJECT!"
Elandor closed his eyes.
The sigh that escaped him wasn't anger.
It was disappointment.
He opened them and looked directly at Aren.
"Release her."
Aren tilted his head.
"Why?"
The elf archers drew their bows fully.
The air thickened.Sound seemed to disappear.
The old man raised a single hand ✋.
"Enough."
His voice didn't rise.
It didn't need to.
"If your guild wishes to contest one of ours," he continued evenly,"then we do it by tradition."
Elandor narrowed his eyes.
"Guild against guild?"
"Individual against individual," the old man corrected."No politics. No armies. No interference."
The elves murmured.
Inside the barrel, Lyris stopped thrashing.
Elandor looked down at his daughter.
"Lyris. Your complaint?"
She straightened as much as the barrel allowed.
"I want a duel."
He turned to Aren.
"And you?"
Aren shrugged.
"She insulted me for thirty minutes."
The barrel rattled.
Aren added calmly,"She also shot me over a mushroom."
Elandor pressed two fingers to his forehead.
A long silence followed.
Then—
"Very well."
He pointed toward the distant green horizon beyond the city walls.
"The Emerald Wilds. Two days. A continuous hunt."
The elf archers smiled 😈.
From the barrel came wild laughter.
"Perfect!" Lyris shouted."That jungle is my territory!"
She screamed through the opening,
"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," he said."If I win, I want a reward."
Elandor raised an eyebrow.
"And what do you want, human?"
Aren didn't hesitate.
"I want her to stop talking."
The guild exploded into laughter 😂.
The elves nearly fired on instinct.
From the barrel came incoherent rage.
"UNACCEPTABLE—NO—FATHER—STOP THIS—!"
But it was already done.
The duel was sealed.
Two days.The Emerald Wilds.A hunt.
One hit would decide everything.
The old man nodded.
"Then it's official."
Elandor stepped closer to Aren, lowering his voice.
"My daughter has never lost a hunt."
Aren finished his milk.
Set the cup down.
"Then she'll learn something new."
Lyris screamed inside the barrel, shrill and furious.
And everyone in the guild felt it.
This wasn't a fight.
It was a collision 🌑⚔️.
Two worlds moving toward each other.
And neither intended to stop.