Achilipthus Forest Region. Towering ancient trees that had grown for thousands of years, stubborn vines, and oddly shaped mushrooms sprawled out in every direction, encompassing a vast woodland.
Buried deep within this colossal forest lay countless secrets.
There were ominous dungeons nestled in dark caverns, the remains of famous adventurers who had perished in this great forest, and even enormous runes that could communicate with spirits.
The rugged cliffs and dense underbrush covering this terrain were so formidable that even the elves, dwarves, and orcs of the continent had yet to uncover all the secrets concealed in the Achilipthus Forest.
…except for me, of course. I spent 4,000 hours exploring every nook and cranny, leaving no element of the area untouched.
The Achilipthus Forest was commonly referred to among players as a “Treasure Trove.”
It bestowed “The Blessing of the Spirit” to mages, “The Flute of the Transcendent’s Horn,” an artifact prized by barbarians and warriors alike, and yielded Filia fibers, the material required to craft the game’s top-tier “Elven Cloak” for rangers and thieves.
Of course, each item was hidden in different locations, and obtaining artifacts or rare fibers required clearing dungeons with high difficulty or scaling hundreds of meters of sheer cliffs through treacherous mountain terrain.
On the other hand, obtaining the Blessing of the Spirit wasn’t that difficult. Rather than being hidden deep within a dungeon full of monsters, it was concealed beneath the roots of the oldest and largest tree in the forest.
Upon arrival at the forest, I took command of the squad from Captain Belua. She immediately ordered the offloading of numerous construction tools from the supply wagons and assigned tasks to tidy up the area.
“The ground is less solid than expected! We’ll need to pave a road wide enough for wagons, so start the earthwork preparations carefully!”
“Shelter construction team, over there! The terrain is too uneven; level it out first with shovels and picks before starting!”
“…This area is more densely forested than anticipated. It would be better to establish camp in a wider, flatter area. However, it would be a waste not to use this place, so let’s build a small warehouse here!”
Since arriving at the forest, my only activity had been exchanging trivial chatter with Lir, while Belua efficiently directed the leveling of the uneven terrain and began laying the foundations for the buildings with mere gestures and a loud voice.
Dwarves, renowned for their exceptional craftsmanship, started stacking blocks to construct the base of the forward outpost, which would connect directly to the battlefield of Valleland and the capital.
Human and orc infantry busily transported building materials like bricks and wood, while the archers vigilantly guarded against any potential threats.
“…It seems there’s nothing for me to do.”
I subtly glanced at Belua, speaking casually.
Belua, who had been earnestly overseeing the construction of the forward base, paused upon noticing my thin wrist peeking out from beneath my black robes, then smiled while responding.
“A task unfit for someone of your caliber! Leave this to us!”
Hmm.
Somehow, my mood wasn’t entirely pleasant, but what could I do?
After all, I only invested 1 point in strength.
“Then, may I briefly explore the deeper part of the forest? There’s something that concerns me.”
“Is it necessary?”
Belua stopped her busy hands momentarily, asking worriedly.
“We have already dismantled all the traps in this area, but that was limited to the ground where we established our base and its surroundings; we haven’t fully explored the entire forest.”
The size of the Achilipthus Forest stretches over 50 square kilometers.
Within the short span of half a day, it would be impossible to fully explore this vast area, let alone deactivate every trap.
Besides, the majority of the region remains uncharted due to its rugged terrain.
Additionally, it was uncertain whether there were traps laid by marauders in these unknown lands.
Thus, it was understandable why Belua looked at me with concern.
“…I feel a mysterious magic here within the forest that must not be overlooked. I’ll simply confirm what it is quickly, so there’s no need to worry too much.”
I turned my head and fixed my gaze deep into the lush forest, as if an indescribable force was pulling me, like someone sensing their fate.
…
Mysterious magic? More like the suffocating air here.
But if I hadn’t acted this way, she might not have approved.
…Why do I need approval since I’m the superior officer?
Please don’t ask that question if you have any sense. It was clear to everyone that though Belua was in charge, it wasn’t me.
“Hmm… If the unparalleled genius mage can feel it this way, there must be something special hidden here! Stories have long circulated around this forest being a place where mysterious things often appear—it’s quite normal.”
Though it’s embarrassing to admit, I am a genius mage destined to save all of humanity.
So, how many people in this world would dare to tell a mage feeling this unique power not to go investigate?
“However, it’s too dangerous to send the general alone. I have an excellent guide I can assign. Would you mind waiting a moment?”
It was a reasonable precaution from Belua’s standpoint. No sensible commander would let a mage wander carelessly through a battlefield.
A skilled warrior can endure unexpected threats, and an exceptional archer can prevent them, but talented mages often succumb abruptly to unforeseen dangers without reacting.
It wasn’t for nothing that mages were jokingly called “wizard clothies” in gaming communities, and for this reason, investing some stats in health became the standard build.
“Trian, Sergeant!”
“…What is it?”
From nearby trees came a sharp voice that seemed unworthy of someone addressing a superior officer.
“You are to act as escort. The general has business to attend to—ensure his safe passage!”
Belua delivered the order with calm authority and returned to directing the infantry, unfazed by her subordinate’s attitude.
A rustling noise accompanied the soft footsteps on the leaves. An elf with long hair tied back approached slowly.
Of medium height, the elf was armed with a large longbow and quiver strapped to his back, his body adorned with numerous small scars.
Despite the prolonged march without the opportunity to wash, his jet-black, thick hair shimmered with a glossy sheen—an archetypal “elf archer.”
“Where are we heading?”
Without introducing himself, the elf bluntly asked. He skipped the customary salute as if it were entirely unnecessary and even seemed to find my presence as a superior officer somewhat bothersome.
“…”
Elves were rumored to be impolite, but I hadn’t expected it to this extreme.
“Do you address other superiors like this?”
Even though I held the rank of general, if I let this behavior slide, discipline throughout the army might slacken.
This isn’t nitpicking for my sake—it’s for the discipline of the army and the future of humanity.
“Do you know how old I am? I’m 1,211 years old this year. It’s too old for me to salute first to humans who haven’t reached their 50th year.”
“Ah.”
Trian, the elf, was so shamelessly audacious that, for a moment, I reconsidered whether I’d made some mistake.
The conclusion came swiftly:
…This guy is crazier than I imagined.
“Polite speech should suffice, but if you’re uncomfortable, I can replace you with another archer.”
I thought I understood why elf archers, despite their exceptional skills, were often avoided by some commanders.
Their personalities didn’t align well with the group dynamics of the military.
Their overly high self-esteem, akin to arrogance, their natural disdainful gaze, their rude speech, and their tendency to view all races apart from elves as inferior…
Wow, this list goes on and on.
“You see, I don’t mind it personally, but you should be more respectful to other commanders… Some people take discipline very seriously.”
“Do you think I’ve witnessed the rise and fall of numerous nations and the countless armies that have come and gone throughout my lifetime? I can’t be treated the same as ordinary soldiers.”
…Is it not embarrassing to declare “I’m special” out loud?
Moreover, what gives this elf such unwarranted confidence?
If he had begun with, “I’m an older elf with limited manners, but please forgive me,” I would have replied, “Ah, understandable for an elf. I’ll accept that.”
“…”
Living over 1,200 years is undoubtedly impressive. In that long span, one would have learned, witnessed, and experienced things that ordinary humans, dwarves, or orcs couldn’t even imagine.
Thus, their condescending attitude toward other races was not entirely incomprehensible.
Would I not burst into laughter rather than feel awkward if someone over 1,200 years old scolded a mere 40 or 50-year-old for not using honorifics?
“Ah, I don’t want to grow old…”
Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but feel perturbed.
As aging does not naturally erode one’s “manners,” why not speak more politely?
“…”
“What did you mean by that remark?”
“Just a thought aloud. Losing one’s sharp mind is a frightening prospect for anyone, isn’t it?”
With bright, round eyes, I feigned innocence. Trian, realizing I was mocking him, gritted his teeth, but I couldn’t help but laugh inwardly at his reaction.
No matter how old one gets, this is an army, and he’s a single soldier.
Regardless of age, should a mere sergeant really act this brazen in front of a general?
Let me emphasize again: This nitpicking is for the good of the organization, not for my personal sake.
“Are you calling someone a fool?”
“Me? I didn’t mean to offend, but if it came across that way, I apologize.”
The elf sergeant in front of me was outrageously rude to a general.
And I lacked confidence in having a rational conversation with such an irrational individual.
So instead of logically arguing against him, I decided to adopt a slippery eel-like strategy, brushing off his provocations with casual dismissals.
“…”
That strategy successfully irritated him.
“If it’s too hard to use honorifics, don’t bother. When did I ask you to? Speak however you’re comfortable. I, an elder of 1,200 years, find hearing honorifics uncomfortable.”
“…Arrogant bastard.”
What? Did that sting?
Over 1,200 years old and genuinely angry with a young person in their twenties? Must be full of himself.
“Oh dear, young ones shouldn’t act this way around their elders. Sorry.”
“Bin! Didn’t you say you felt some sort of special magic?”
While wasting time with this meaningless spat, a young elf who is polite and well-mannered approached.
…I had never realized until now, but due to Trian, I truly appreciate how precious Lir is.
What difference does it make if one lacks social skills? This child is polite regardless of age and doesn’t belittle people.
“My master asked me to follow along—he says there might be something great to learn…”
Sighing, I alternately glanced at the enthusiastic eyes of Lir, brimming with expectation, and the sharp-eyed male elf who was glaring at me.
…Thinking about the potential future where Lir grows up to become another rude elf like Trian makes my head spin.
“…Lir, please don’t grow up to be like this.”
“Um?”
His large eyes clearly showed no understanding of what I was referring to.
