After hearing the elf’s words, Oren quickly ducked his head. Just as he was pondering how to slip away, he noticed the girl beside him raising her sword—clearly ready to charge out and fight those two.
"Hey! What are you doing?" Oren hissed.
The girl didn’t even glance back. "What else? Non-humans are filthy abominations that deserve death. Why *wouldn’t* I wipe them out on sight?"
*How about ‘we’d lose’?* Oren bit back the thought. He knew all too well how the Alliance of Free Cities viewed non-humans. From childhood, they were taught such races were heretics—stains that shouldn’t exist. Their hatred ran deeper than most nations’.
Still, Oren wanted no part of this mess. He yanked the girl’s arm, whispering urgently, "Lea Rodni, right? Calm down. Think about—"
Before he could finish, the orc suddenly called out: "Yamwen, what’s wrong? We should move on."
The elf merely flicked her delicate eyelashes, eyes locked on the grass where Oren hid. After a tense pause, she finally turned. "Hmm. Ronta. Must’ve been my imagination."
*Did we dodge it?* Oren silently exhaled as the elf and orc began walking away. But just as his shoulders relaxed—
The elf whirled around, shrieking a spell. Her arm shot up.
"Duck!" Oren roared at Lea.
**BOOM!**
Her hand slashed down. A fan-shaped wave of fire engulfed the grass. As the ashes settled, the orc Ronta rushed over, panicked. "What are you doing?!"
"Nothing." The elf dusted her palms.
From the smoldering ruins, Oren rose slowly, brushing ash off his coat. The elf smirked coldly. "Sewer rat. Smelled your human filth from miles away."
"Oh dear, my apologies," Oren replied smoothly in High Elven, patting his clothes. "But what’s *that* perfume you’re wearing? Dumped by your boyfriend? Hunting a new fling?"
The elf’s eyes widened, then crinkled with cruel amusement. "Hah~ A cultured rat. So you must be Oren—the Silver Dragon Princess’s pet human."
"I’m Oren, yes. But *pet*? Where’d you get such rotten intel? It’s—"
Lea staggered up from the ashes, elbowing him. "Hey! What’s she saying? What’d *you* say?"
"Ah, nothing." Oren calmly pulled his greatsword from the debris. "She said your chest is as big as watermelons."
**THWACK!**
Lea’s fist slammed into Oren’s skull. The elf merely grinned, then turned grave. Switching to Common, she ordered: "Ronta. Kill that woman."
"As you wish." The orc hefted his double-bladed axe and charged. As the blade swung toward Lea’s neck—
**CLANG!**
Oren’s greatsword blocked it mid-strike. Straining against the orc’s weight, he yelled at Lea: "Run! Tell William—"
Lea was already lunging at the elf Yamwen, sword arcing through the air. Crimson fire trailed its edge as she chanted a spell. Flaming projectiles shot toward the elf.
Yamwen didn’t flinch. She plucked a feathered arrow from her quiver, murmuring under her breath. The firebolts struck her—
**KABOOM!**
Smoke swallowed her whole. Lea smirked—until a gale ripped the haze apart. Yamwen stood untouched, drawing her longbow.
"How are you unharmed?!" Lea gasped.
"*How?*" Yamwen nocked the arrow, voice icy. "You thieves stole our magic. You don’t even know what it *means*."
A storm of raw, inhuman power erupted around them. Yamwen released the string.
Her words cut through the gale: "You don’t know what magic *is*."
**WHOOOM!**
The arrow blazed like a falling star. Trees shattered mid-explosion, splintering into dust before hitting the ground.
Amidst the chaos, Yamwen stood poised, bow in hand. Wind whipped her golden hair as she tucked a strand behind her ear. Sunlight caught her emerald eyes—calm as abyssal pools, yet hinting at blood spreading over black rivers. "Humans," she murmured, "even your blood defiles this earth. It insults our gods."
"No—" Lea pushed herself up from the rubble, sword trembling in her grip. Cracks of broken magic sparked around her shield. "*You’re* the insult! Filthy mongrels! Your ears make me sick!" She raised her blade again.
Yamwen’s lips curled. "Rare we agree on something." She nocked another arrow. Wind coiled around its tip, twisting into a miniature tornado. Silver lightning crackled at its core. "Your ears sicken *me*, human."
"Yamwen!" Ronta bellowed. "You’re overloading it! You’ll kill everyone here!"
He saw her face. The ethereal beauty had twisted into madness—lips stretched in a fanatic’s grin, eyes burning with silent screams: *Die die die die—*
*Ugh. Not again.* Ronta’s eye twitched. *Last time she snapped, she vaporized three partners.* He edged backward—
A gray blur flashed behind Yamwen.
*What—?*
Oren’s hand shot out.
*Squeeze.*
He groped the elf’s chest.
*Squeeze. Squeeze.*
"See that, flat-chest?!" Oren yelled at the stunned Lea. "This is a *real*—"
**SLAP!**
Yamwen spun, crimson-faced. "*Get off me, PERVERT!*"
The raging magic storm dissolved into the air—along with the sound of her furious shriek and Oren’s stinging cheek.
