Becoming Legend

Faeranduhl was given a pen and a parchment, stored in a leather bag, slung on his shoulder. He was with three more elves, and to this surprise, he was the only half-elf. And to his other surprise, he was treated with manners befitting like an elf in the exploration team.

"We explore," the exploration team leader had said to him before leaving the city hall. "Anyone who contributed to the team is treated equally."

As they go deeper into the town of O'rriadt. The expedition was met with scattered beasts. A hound with burning eyes and tails, freybugs as what their leader called the beast. He immensely recorded the freybugs on his parchment, delighted to see some sort of rare monster. Freybugs were common to volcanic places, some deeper underground for as long as there was volcanic activity nearby.

What attacked the expedition were the monsters that the elf-rider did not bother to finish off. They were led by elder Madras and his shadows of dark-elves and the elf-rider. Behind them was the expedition.

To Faeranduhl's another surprise. Elder Calanye was in the next cluster of seeds protected by high-elves and elves. He rode a stag the size of a common shack. In his hand was a sphere, the size was enough for him to clutch it easily. Faeranduhl wondered if he could not sense it due to the wooden necklace or if the device was too powerful that it could block any detection spells. Perhaps, Elder Calanye was hiding it off others' senses.

As the expedition marched toward the Gate. Elder Calanye looked at the sphere in his hand as though it was their guide. And every time he looked at the spherical device on his hand, it exudes a strong green light and scribbles Faeranduhl did not bother to read. Not that he did not want to, but because even Elder Calanye seemed confused from reading it.

Elder Calanye pointed over the horizon, under the pair of snow-capped mountains, and in the thick forest.

The island was thickened by mist and dark clouds. It would be pitched black if it wasn't noon, which Faeranduhl assumed was almost nighttime. Or noon. Or dusk. All Faeranduhl knew was that they had been marching for not less than a day.

***

After a full day of marching, the expedition arrived at the Gate. There was a constant emergence of ghouls, alghouls, freybugs, and a monster in a human form of a woman with a wide jaw of a hundred teeth.

Elder Madras appeared near Elder Calanye over the massive stag. They talked for a moment, which Faeranduhl registered as a murmur and knitted brows. After Elder Calanye nodded, Elder Madras vanished, then the head of the expedition started to move forward.

Even with the wooden necklace, Faeranduhl's senses caught pressure in many different directions.

As they marched closer, the Gate appeared to be getting bigger. By the time that it was Faeranduhl's team's turn to enter, the Gate appeared massive. Almost as big as the double-story house Faeranduhl and his mother were staying in. It was massive that the stag, Elder Calanye was riding, could be fitted twice.

The Gate was emitting a strange pressure that if Faeranduhl tried to focus his senses, he felt as though the pressure were like tentacles of a beast clawing and devouring everything that gets closer to it.

The Gate stood in an arc form. Around the arcs, of what seemed to be a black crystal, were symbols Faeranduhl yet again did not understand. And it seemed that he wasn't alone since the explorers and even Elder Calanye had to take a closer look to study it. Even then, the leader of the exploration team did not record words on his parchment.

Elder Calanye nodded and the rest of the expedition went inside the Gate along with Faeranduhl's team.

Faeranduhl stepped inside the Gate.

The last thing he remembered were screams, distortion in the space, and bright light before he was spitted out of the Gate.

Faeranduhl scrambled to his feet. The prickles of hundred needles were still fresh on his mind and skin, sweat formed, and his stomach gave up. He puked whatever food he had eaten before their march.

Embarrassment wasn't just him as hundreds of elves did the same. Only a handful was able to withstand the discomfort of the Gate.

Soon after they entered, shouts of command resounded in the forest. Then the elves marched to formation. There were a lot of elves, the forest was clamoring for them. First to move were the elf-riders with the High-, Wood-, and the remaining Dark-elves followed.

The expedition was in a formation to sweep every inch of the forest, headed by the elf-rider, then a slow-moving high-elves and wood elves. The remaining Dark-elves guarded Elder Calanye with Elder Madras nowhere to be seen. Elder Calanye studied the device on his hand and frowned. Then pointed forward.

"Limbo." The lead explorer started to inform the three of them. "Before entering another realm, travelers must cross the Limbo. It's like a bridge with its ecosystem. Monsters are far more superior."

"Astonishing," the female explorer said on Faeranduhl's left, "and weird."

After a couple of seconds, the expedition started moving again to where Elder Calanye was pointing.

"It's time," the lead explorer continued. "Time does not stop but can be constrained. Stretched or shortened. What appears to be a day from the outside might be months inside the Limbo. Civilization has been using Limbo to train their soldiers. Even us elves were doing it. Surely we don't want to be left behind, right?"

Faeranduhl nodded and smiled at the lead explorer. Not because of how he described time deferential but how he considered Faeranduhl as one of the elves. Faeranduhl almost cried in happiness. Like he often does, he walked closer to their lead explorer and bowed with his hand clipped on his chest.

"You don't need to do that," the lead explorer said. "You are still an elf. Instead of fighting with each other, we must make peace. Our real enemy is out there." He pointed in the opposite direction to where they entered the Gate. To Earflgard. To the lands of humans.

Faeranduhl vaguely nodded. Agreeing briefly.

"May I know your name, great elf?" Faeranduhl said, changing the subject.

"Definitely not 'Great'," the lead elf chuckled. "but an elf indeed. Call me Thaniel."

Faeranduhl bowed deeper and clipped his hand to his chest stronger and repeated Thaniels's name before he was dismissed.

With clear enthusiasm, Faeranduhl pulled the pen and paper in his bag and started to scribble words and symbols.

They were in a forest, thick, clean, with some scattered rocks and boulders. Unlike the freezing town of O'rriadt, the forest was warm, very fantastical.

Faeranduhl turned to look behind him. A pair of mountains stood, and under its base was the entrance to the Gate.

The Limbo was so wide that Faeranduhl wasn't able to gauge its distance.

It was difficult for Faeranduhl to decide if they were the first to enter the Limbo. Although he learned that humans were there first, he wasn't convinced that they entered the Gate. Footprints of elves were widely visible on the ground and only it vanishes when they cross a stream.

Faeranduhl was sketching on his parchment when he remembered something.

He stopped and focused. He could vaguely sense the mana in the surroundings but he was certain it was much stronger than the outside. The mana wasn't pure, but far stronger and potent. Faeranduhl wondered how the other elves, without the necklaces, could control their senses to not be affected by the thick mana. He tried to take the wooden necklace to feed his curiosity. But remembering how he fainted on the ship, he shook his head and walked toward the team of explorers.

Halfway towards his team, Faeranduhl looked up to check the noise the elves were producing ahead of them. He could hear shouts first, spells being conjured, blades clashing, and followed by laughter. The screams of laughter were getting closer and closer to him. He looked forward to see a figure passed down from seeds to seeds of elves.

As the laughter died down the figure appeared to the group of elves, closer to Faeranduhl's team.

Curious as well, his team went to check who or what the figure was.

Upon arriving, Faeranduhl noticed a kneeling human surrounded by elves. The elves were talking about whether they should heal him. Sometimes, Faeranduhl could hear some laughter after one of the elves kicked the human.

Faeranduhl circled the elves to have a better look at the human. His age was hard to determine, humans don't live longer so by elf standards he must be around 50 or 80 years old. Or 2o to 30 human age. He stopped on a wide gap between elves and knelt. The man wore silver and black armor. Short hair drenched in blood. Very bloody.

Faeranduhl moved closer. The human's left arm was torn and bent awkwardly. Fragments of bones were visible on the bent arm. His armor half-covered him. He seemed to be dying, with his eyes: deep, dark, and sad.

One of the elves pulled the human to kneel and kicked him instantly. The human fell on his back. But he did not care at all. He seemed to accept his faith in the hands of elves. This same elf helped him once again. This time he let the human kneel. The elf bent and said in human tongue: "Your name, human."

The human did not answer.

"Name, human."

The human did not answer.

The elves went quiet and waited. They stopped laughing and looked at the human, but uncaring.

The expedition started to march forward as though nothing had happened.

The elves started to disperse one by one but some remained to wait for the human. Including Faeranduhl.

"Human," the elf said, "give me your name and you live."

"I'm dead anyway. Leave me. Elf."

The words from the human left the elf enraged. His eyes glared at the human as he pulled him by the collar. Blood leaked from his neck, and his head.

"Not today, human," the elf said while Faeranduhl listened to their side. "You're coming with us. Your name."

As though reborn anew, the human flinched as he looked at the elf holding him. His eyes flared not of life but rage and said: "Roldan."