“Hey, I thought you knew the way.” Edlyn trailed Eli, her voice like a pebble skipping across a stream.

“We’re almost there.” Eli hacked a vine in one clean stroke, his tone wavering like a leaf in wind.

“You’ve said that a hundred times!”

“Damn it, and you’ve asked the same thing a hundred times!”

“This wouldn’t happen if you hadn’t taken the wrong path.”

“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. It’s this way.”

“Then why aren’t we at the Elven City yet?”

“I got blown miles away. On foot, we move like ants across a field.”

“Then fly.”

“Then you fly and show me.”

“I—I… damn! Why does a mere Elf Race have a No-Fly Orb?”

“How should I know!”

“It’s absolutely something you gave them.”

“Wow. Can’t find a reason, so you just throw the blame in my basket?”

“Otherwise why would the Elf Race have an orb that decided the battle back then?”

“I—”

“I knew it. When we first came in here, the more I flew, the heavier my wings felt. My stamina drained like water through sand. I thought I’d gone weak. Great job.” Edlyn planted fists on hips and barked, her voice sharp as frost.

Eli’s shoulders hunched. Back over the Elves’ castle, he’d glimpsed a sphere brimming with magic, a second moon above the boughs.

He had struggled in the air like a fish in silt, just like Edlyn. He had mostly guessed what that orb was.

Then his tongue slipped.

Ah… and getting blasted away didn’t count. Obviously.

Come to think of it, the Elves’ own flight didn’t seem bound by the No-Fly Orb.

Eli shrank in on himself again. Records said the main force that broke the Demon Race’s aerial legions were the Elf Race themselves.

So yeah. He probably had given it to them. Damn it all.

He looked up at the sky and tugged a crooked smile. “Look. Birds still sing and skim the blue. If you had wings of your own, maybe…”

“Damn! That’s natural energy. You—you—you, what kind of Hero are you? Pig-brained?” Edlyn sputtered like fire meeting rain.

“Grow wings and fly? Did you forget how my Demon Race Windrunners died?”

Eli’s neck shrank. “I still haven’t got all my memories back. I can’t recall, so you can’t blame me.”

“Damn you, useless.” Edlyn ground her teeth till they clicked like stones.

Eli rolled his eyes, guilt pricking like thorns. Better to shut up.

He walked in silence, leading the way.

Elven City lay west. Their feet carried them east, like driftwood pulled by the wrong current.

…

“Your Majesty. Should we send people to the special cultivation forest in the east to fetch some strategic reserve plants?” Yor stood before the desk, his voice hushed like moss underfoot.

The Elven Queen looked up, her gaze calm as moonlight on a lake. “Yor, you can’t come to me for everything. I’ve already handed most of the Elf Race’s authority to you. Act boldly.”

Yor dropped to one knee, the gesture like a blade sheathed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The Queen laughed softly, a bell among leaves. “What’s this? Since when did our Elves care so much about human etiquette?”

Yor looked up, smiling like sunrise through branches. “Pardon me, Your Majesty. I’ll soon visit human lands to negotiate an alliance. I’ve been learning a lot.”

The Elven Queen’s smile deepened. “Good. I approve. No wonder you and I were born from the same Tree of Life.”

Yor nodded. “Your Majesty, may I ask… any sign that our forebears are waking?”

The Queen paused, then answered with a soft shake of the head, like petals falling. “No. The Hero’s Dawn of Extinction was too strong.”

Yor frowned, a storm cloud forming. As the Elf Race’s brightest in a century, he had never seen that sight. He held only the warnings of forebears, and a distant awe for that peak Hero.

“I still don’t understand… the current… that… that person. Is he really a Hero?”

Yor asked no more. He sighed like wind through reeds and withdrew.

Now was not the time to judge a Hero’s worth. Now was the time to marshal the Elf Race.

The Elven City was a forest built from titanic ancient trees. They ringed a central structure like living ramparts. The “castle” grew on the back of a great tree. A strange energy lifted the entire land into the sky like an island held in a giant’s palm.

As for the most mysterious Tree of Life, it hid beyond sight, like a heartbeat under bark.

Yor reached the crown of the castle-tree. A peculiar energy wrapped him like a cloak of mist. He raised his voice, and it carried like birdsong over miles. “People of the Elf Race. Do you still remember the mighty Demon Race recorded in our tomes?”

“Now! We have another chance to match the forebears’ great deed!”

“Strike the enemy of the continent! Strike the devils who blacken the land and choke nature!”

A wave of shouts rolled back. “Oh!”

“Strike them!”

You thought it would be that simple?

Most residents only stared up at Yor, whispering and pointing like sparrows at a cat.

What an idiot. Is he drunk on his own legend?

…

By a small river, time trickled like glass.

“Hey, if you led us wrong, I won’t let you off.” Edlyn clamped a hand over her wound, her tone bitter as willow bark.

“Alright, alright… you’re still acting all high and mighty while injured. Do I owe you? You weren’t like this before.” Eli sighed. He cupped her left foot as if holding a fragile bird.

“Hiss—what are you doing?”

“Disinfecting you.”

“Tch. I’m the head of ten thousand demons, a Sacred Rank Demon King, I—”

“This thing’s called Yunteng.” Eli pointed at the purple, thorned vine coiled around her leg like a venomous serpent. “It’s made to take Sacred Rank fighters out of commission. With enough of it, it could kill even our peak selves.”

“…”

Edlyn fell silent, like a fire that met a sudden rain.

Hah? What a joke. It only has a strong paralyzing effect. Eli smiled to himself, a shadow slipping under water. Kill someone? Not a chance.

He eased the Yunteng off, careful as a moon-robber stealing light. He sighed. “Didn’t expect to find this plant here.”

“Mm.” Edlyn grumbled, reluctant as a cat in a bath.

Eli slid off her torn white cotton sock. The scratches crisscrossed like cat’s claws on snow. He raised a brow, then sat beside her and gathered both small feet into his arms, warm as embers.

Edlyn threw him a token glance, then turned her face away, her cheeks flushed like dusk.

Eli replayed that glance in his head, his thoughts drifting like pollen. Hm? Does this girl… know what that plant is used for?

He scratched the sole of her foot, feather-light.

Edlyn’s uninjured left leg shot up like a startled deer and kicked for his face.

Eli tilted aside, dodged, then caught her ankle gently. He smiled. “You’re adorable.”

“Ha! You’re— you’re awful!” Edlyn bit her lip and looked away, her voice small as a moth.

Eli flicked his wrist. A globe of river water rose, hovering like a captured cloud. He traced a magic array with one finger. The water hung midair, and a purple sigil heated it like a sunrise.

He beckoned again. A larger stone flew from the riverbed. His longsword left his waist like a flash of starlight and carved a hollow in the stone. The stone bowl floated, brimming, before him.

Eli grinned. “How’s that? I’m amazing.”

Edlyn scoffed. “Just tricks to coax a girl.”

“Yeah. I’m coaxing you.”

“…”

When she didn’t answer, he kneaded her foot gently, his touch like warm sand. He drew a wooden box from his pack, opened it, and dropped a white stone into the water to steep like tea. He cupped some water in his hand and smoothed it over her wound like a veil.

“Hiss.” Edlyn’s brow pinched, a shadow between lilies.

“Hurts a lot?” Eli watched her and smiled, soft as a lantern’s glow.

“... As if.” Edlyn glared, then turned away again, swift as a bird.

“How long has it been since we spent time alone?” Eli’s voice flowed like the river.

“Who knows.”

“Haha. Alright, alright. Reaching our destination comes first.” He set her foot down and stood. “Can you walk?”

Edlyn frowned and tested her legs. Her feet felt numb, like wood in winter.

Instinctively, she looked up at Eli, eyes wide as night.

He got it without words. He lifted her and settled her on his back, the motion smooth as lifting a cloak. “How about this?”

Edlyn buried her face against him, her murmur a warm breeze. “Mm.”

Eli smiled. He gave her a light pat to hitch her higher, his hand quick as a sparrow. Then he stepped forward, each footfall parting thorns like paddles part reeds.

They moved in shared silence, two shadows threading a bramble-woven forest.

“Hey, Hero. Why are you so good to me?” Edlyn watched the back of his head for a long time, the question rising like mist.

She’d told him, hadn’t she? She was the Demon King, his enemy from another life. She had lied to him for a year. Did he feel nothing at all?

Eli breathed out, the sound a quiet rain. “If you want to be good to someone, do you need another reason?”

“Of course. I’m—”

“Yeah, yeah. The Demon King.” Eli smiled, light as a drifting leaf.

“What’s with that tone? I’m not joking.” Edlyn’s voice pricked like a thorn.

“Ed-chan, have you seen yourself lately?”

“Huh?”

“I mean your eyes. Have you seen what they look like now?”

“... Heterochromatic eyes. So what?”

“I’m glad… you chose chaos.” Eli’s smile warmed like dawn. “You’re both the Demon King Pandora and the girl Edlyn. You’re not only… one single thing.”

“…” Edlyn sighed, a soft wind through reeds.

“I’m an orphan. No parents.” Eli lifted a shoulder, easy as a shrug of clouds. “Before I got my Hero memories back, I had almost nothing.”

“I don’t have some grand sense of race honor. I only know what I want, what I’m curious about, and who I like.” He glanced back with a smile. “I am a Hero, yes. But I’m not Birand. I have a name. I’m Eli Aestor. Not Birand Aste.”

“So what if you’re the Demon King? Fate isn’t a chain around my neck. The Hero and the Demon King’s ‘destiny’ has nothing to do with me. What I need, what I want, it’s always just a few things.”

“I’m shallow, aren’t I?” Eli chuckled, like stones tapping in a pocket.

Edlyn laughed out loud, the sound like bells. “Shallow, short-sighted, and low! Not a single virtue!”

“Oof… that bad, huh.”

“Hey, eyes front! There’s a river ahead!”