The elven soldiers felt the threat, no lie. The Demonblade breathed a scent they could never forget—their old enemy, the Dragons.

In their old wars, the count stayed the same: one pure-blood dragon against four hundred and fifty elves. One mountain to a field of grass.

It ended in a draw, yes. The Dragonfolk dragged dozens of their own home like hunters dragging stags. The elves only watched a scarlet marsh of their dead, tens of thousands, and stood empty as stone.

That war became a black page no one opened. No one spoke of it; no one wanted to remember.

Now Alicia swung the Demonblade, carving dragonflame across the air like a comet’s tail. The elves’ minds replayed pure-blood dragons hanging in the sky, mouths belching fire that cooked their kin while they could do nothing.

Anger? Of course. Fear? Of course. Revenge? ...They didn’t know.

The girl before them looked like a willow; they were oaks. Yet everyone knew: whoever could slay Dragonfolk—especially a pure-blood—was no weakling. Faces lie; no one dared test whether her blade “belonged to someone else.” They wouldn’t wager their lives on that snowflake chance. Besides, what had their revenge to do with this girl? She only held a piece of the enemy’s body, a third party’s trophy; in the end, she was innocent.

Back to Ling’s earlier guess: were these elven soldiers fools? No. They were sharper than they looked. At least they knew this: provoking the girl before them would be wrong and stupid, both.

The highest commander—the one who had hovered at the center—came down slow. He matched Alicia’s height, leveled his gaze, and dipped as she had, apology glimmering in his eyes.

“Honored one of strength, we apologize for earlier. We were too anxious about Her Highness, and rushed in. Please forgive our mistake.”

Seeing room to talk, Alicia eased her grip. The Demonblade obeyed gravity and fell. The instant it kissed the earth, it whoomped into a whirl of fire and vanished.

The elf captain let out a breath like a quiet gust. He straightened and returned to eye level.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m the Royal General of Elven Vale—Viruno Aika. I’m easygoing; call me Viruno.”

“Then call me Alicia. And this beside me is Yufan Ling.”

“Yes, understood, Lady Alicia and Lady Ling. We truly came only to bring back the mischievous princess behind you. We bear no malice.”

Alicia glanced back at Elfe. Her eyes asked whether Viruno spoke truth. Elfe didn’t answer at once. She looked at Viruno with a sharp, warning gleam, yet her lifted lips wore mischief.

Behind Alicia’s back, Viruno nodded hard, eyes wet. Bliss bloomed on Elfe’s face like sunlight.

“Yup~ he’s the one who was going to take me back. Not a big bad guy~”

With the princess’s own word, Alicia drew back her guard. She turned and offered Viruno a small apology. “Sorry. We were overcautious.”

Viruno knew polite dance steps. He pushed both hands before his chest to soothe the air. “It’s fine, it’s fine; some of it’s on us,” he said. Then he reached a hand toward Elfe. Elfe laid her fingers on his, docile as a fawn. They looked ready to head home.

Before leaving, Viruno didn’t forget to invite Alicia and her companion. Part respect for strength, part worry about leaving them to wander, perhaps. Alicia didn’t refuse; the invite would smooth her own task.

———

“Report to Her Majesty the Queen! Viruno has returned with the Princess!”

A soldier ran in, breath ragged like winter wind, and blurted to the Queen on the throne.

The Queen didn’t lift her eyes from the bamboo scroll in her hand. She answered with a few soft sounds. “I know. That girl loves to slip out. Nothing new. Don’t fuss. If there’s nothing else, go.”

But the soldier didn’t go. He hesitated, then pressed on. “Also... um... Viruno brought back two beings who look human.”

The Queen’s hand stilled on the bamboo scroll. Her eyes rose and speared him. A pressure rolled over him like a stormfront. “You said... human?”

Her aura wasn’t a joke. The soldier felt his knees shake like reeds in wind. “Y-yes! I heard they’re very powerful—stronger than the Dragonfolk. One even carries a Demonblade forged from a pure-blood dragon’s core!”

The Queen’s nose twitched; she let out a soft snort. Then she stood from the throne. Her pressure surged like a breaking tide, a visible low pressure coiling around her. “Hahahahaha! Then I’ll see for myself how strong someone ‘stronger than dragons’ really is!”