“No—! Xier—!” I watched a storm of blades skewer the girl’s tender body, and my voice cracked with fury and guilt.

If only I’d told that person sooner. If only I’d seen the perfect trap before it snapped shut. Maybe none of this would’ve happened.

Xier gave a sorrowful, beautiful smile. Her bright eyes dimmed like dusk over a lake. Her head drooped, and a chill traced her neck like iced steel. My vision surged high, then sank into night.

“Do you want rebirth?” A voice drifted through the dark like wind in a cavern.

I let out a dry, bitter laugh. “Rebirth? For what? I couldn’t even protect the one I love. What good is coming back?”

“To save her.” The words fell flat, stripped of any warmth.

My eyes flew open, then I barked a crazed laugh. “So you’re a god? Then why didn’t you descend sooner? Why didn’t you save us when we begged?

We worshipped you as the true god. We prayed with sincere hearts. We built temples for you and fed you the incense of the world. And now—only after I die—you say this?!”

“...” The voice hushed, like fog swallowing sound. Then, tinged with a wistful echo, it spoke. “You’re wrong. It’s not that I wouldn’t save you. I can’t. And only one certain person can save her. No one else.”

“Then do it. Bring me back. Quit stalling.” I didn’t hold back. This was owed—by it, by fate, by the heavens that failed us.

“...So arrogant and rude. It’s time to blunt that blade of pride.” The words fell, and my body changed. Terror crawled up my spine like frost.

“Hey—what are you doing? Give it back—give it back—give it back!” Heat knotted to ice. Something that marked my manhood shrank fast, then vanished into silence.

An itch slid along my neck like a feather. My nails crept longer like sprouted shoots. My chest grew heavy, as if two fruits hung there, warm and unreal.

A white light struck my face—clang bright—blinding as noon snow. After a breath, I blinked, dazed, and looked around.

Forest. Trees rose like pillars of jade, boughs thick with leaves. Above, tiny creatures streaked through the green like arrows.

A little squirrel hugged a pinecone and nibbled, cheeks puffed like seeds. It noticed me, froze, then skimmed up a branch and vanished, a brown flicker in the green.

I stared, then gave a crooked smile. I wasn’t handsome, but I had my charm. People might stare. Animals bolt. That’s normal.

“Splash, splash...” Water murmured behind me like silver threads. I was thirsty. I walked toward it, and out of habit flicked my ears. Huh? Something felt off.

I tried again. The world opened like a clear bell. Wind, water, fish weaving under the current, even the leaf-rustle—every sound sharpened to crystal.

Eyes wide, I reached up. My fingers brushed long, soft flesh—ears, ten centimeters at least, warm like velvet. I looked down at my hands.

Different. Smaller than memory. Skin smooth as still water, pink as a spring peach. Fingers slender and pale, nails tipped with glossy green.

Cold dread flashed through me like lightning. I ran to the river and used the water’s mirror to see my face.

Dreamlike. A long oval face like carved jade. A round, sensual cherry mouth. Brows arched like crescent moons over my eyes. A pair of green, limpid eyes—soft as water, innocent as dawn.

Her ears—my ears—twitched like a rabbit’s, fluttering lightly. A cascade of long, emerald hair spilled down like vines. I stared at the reflection and went stupid. “Who is she? Why is she so beautiful?”

I shouldn’t have spoken. My voice rang out clear and airy, tender as a Sprite darting through forest light—too pure, too unreal.

I looked down at my clothes. A green open-front jacket hugged me, with a white shirt beneath. Green flowered bracelets circled my wrists like wreaths.

A short green floral skirt brushed the top of my thighs, shameless as spring grass. My legs were long and straight, crystal-bright, wrapped in knee-high green socks.

Brown boots hugged my heels. The whole look was sweet and pure, a fairy stepped out of dew.

But I felt no joy. I cupped the not-too-big, not-too-small weight on my chest and roared, “Ah—damned bitch-god—this enmity is for life and every life after—bitch!”

My roar only deepened my shame. It came out soft and airy, more blush than fury.

“That damned bitch-god shrank my dragon root and turned me into this!” I raged. “I was a general under one man and above ten thousand, a pillar to the sky, an eight-foot man. This is a disgrace to heaven and earth—a disgrace!”

“Who are you? Why are you here?” A Sprite stepped from the green, dressed nearly the same. Her chest was fuller, her face more lushly beautiful, like a blossom in late spring.

Her emerald hair matched mine, sleek and straight, but she’d tied a long ponytail that fell to the curve of her waist, slender as a water snake.

She held a green longbow. A quiver sat over her back, with a dozen arrows peeking like reeds. She didn’t draw on me.

“I... I...” My tongue stumbled. I was dazed. Every ounce of strength felt gone, leaving only reflex and old experience.

She had a weapon. I didn’t dare twitch.

She glanced at my dry lips, then at the river. She slung her bow, took my hand, and pulled me deeper into the woods. “Don’t drink here. Poachers are active lately. It’s dangerous for you.”

“Poachers?” Her grip made me flinch. Her hand was slick-smooth, slithery and warm like a tiny eel.

“Yeah. Several sisters were taken. Damn them. The elders are furious. They petitioned the Queen, asking to teach the humans a lesson. The Queen refused, fearing harsher retaliation.

The elders grumble, but they won’t defy her. I’m afraid something worse is coming. So don’t go out for now.” She spoke with anger, but worry and fear colored her breath.

I pulled free, heart blazing. “That won’t do! If they don’t touch us, we don’t touch them. But if they strike us, we strike back until they’re dead! We can’t swallow this. Without blood, humans won’t stop.”

She stared at my delicate, dreamlike face. Then her lush features curved into a charming smile. “I thought the new girls were all cooped up in the tribe, too green for the world.

Didn’t expect that… Which area are you from? What’s your name? Why haven’t I seen you?”

Panic pricked me like nettles. What’s my name? I couldn’t use the old one. Her doubt sharpened, anger simmering underneath.

My mind snapped into motion. “I’m Medith. Medith Waheit. My area’s remote, and I rarely leave home. That’s probably why you haven’t seen me.”

She tilted her head, brows up, then smoothed her expression. “I’m Melia. A B-rank combat Sprite. You can call me Sister Mel.”

“What a coincidence—both ‘Mei’.” I chimed in with a sugar-sweet tone. Even I scared myself with that coyness.

For the sake of living, I’ve thrown my pride to the wind, Medith thought, wincing inside.

“Huh?” Melia looked puzzled.

Medith caught herself. “Oh—I meant, any plums around? I’m thirsty.” She grinned up at Melia, playful as a fox cub.

Melia smiled, helpless, and shook her head. Still just a little girl, she thought. Then she took Medith’s hand again and moved on.

Whoosh—an arrow carved the sky like a shriek. Death rode the wind. It speared toward Medith.

Battle instinct snapped tight. She slipped aside. The arrow meant for her punched through Melia’s long leg instead, force so fierce it carried her a meter and nailed her into a tree.

Her bow and arrows flew, clattering like fallen leaves. The chaos sent birds exploding skyward. Rustle after rustle raced up the trunks.

Melia crouched, hands clamped over the wound, pain-sweat beading down her alluring face like rain on petals.

“Mel!” Medith cried, bolting for her.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh—three more arrows hissed like angry snakes, streaking for Medith.

She sprang a meter high, spun in a clean arc, tapped a trunk, and drifted onto a branch like a leaf on wind—dodging all three.

The arrows missed their mark, tore through three thick trees, then buried into a fourth with bone-deep thuds.

Medith stared at herself, stunned. Her movements had flowed like water over stone. Her body felt light as paper. Mind and muscle matched perfectly, like bowstring and arrow.

She clenched her fists. Hate flashed in her eyes toward the shooter’s nest of shadows.

Don’t drink here. Poachers are active. Melia’s warning crashed in her head like thunder.

So it’s them—those human poachers.

Audacious. They dare to shoot my kin in broad daylight. How many brothers and sisters have they killed or humiliated?

Today I’ll put you down, you desire-driven humans, and show you whom you’ve provoked. Medith’s pink knuckles creaked, and she scanned for a weapon.

Whoosh whoosh whoosh—the sky turned to a storm. Dozens of arrows came from every angle, weaving a mesh of death.

“Ah!” Medith gasped. She slid down, spine curving like a willow. She slipped through the net by a hair, but the mesh kissed her skin and cut her in lines of flame.

Tock. Medith landed, left hand braced on the soil, right arm lifted at an angle, green hair swaying in a glittering arc like river grass.

She spotted Melia’s fallen green bow and scattered arrows. Killing intent flashed like cold light. She rolled aside, dodged the next shot, snatched the bow and two arrows, and pressed behind a tree.

Melia’s brows shot up. Disbelief rippled over her face. Has she fought for real? Even I can’t move that clean so easily...

Thinking of Medith’s fluid motions, she looked conflicted, then shouted, “Medith! Run! Those humans have Wind-Cleaving Arrows. They counter us Wind Sprites hard! You can’t beat them in archery. Leave me!”

Fear never touched her face—no hint of despair, only the calm of a winter moon.

Arrows had scored Medith’s flawless cheeks and long legs; her knee-highs hung in blood-stitched tatters, leaving her looking wrecked.

Don’t worry, Sister Medith. I’ll show these humans what true despair is—make them wander a night with no dawn.