I Was Reborn, But God's Wants Me Dead

As dawn's light slowly made its way into the forest, the silence of the night was broken only by the gentle rustle of leaves. At their camp, the Darwin brothers—Steven, bold and stubborn, and Kelvin, steady and sharp—as well as their eighteen hardy soldiers awoke. They had a clear objective: locate the mysterious half-elf who was apparently to prowl these forests. They marched into the dense forest with no time to spare, each step full of purpose and boots sinking into damp moss and leaves.

The forest changed as they descended farther. Bird sounds and vibrant greens gave way to an unimpaired, untamed area. Only slender rays of sunlight were able to pass through the dense treetops. They felt as though a storm was approaching because the air was heavy and buzzing with magic. Deer ran through bushes, squirrels left their trees, and even small monsters that were normally unexcitable scurried away, their eyes wide with terror.

A bright flash illuminated the trees as a distant wind howled. Like the earth itself was furious, a deep, bone-shaking growl shook the ground. Even the swift and powerful elves froze, their customary poise gone in terror. Years of being in danger had sharpened the Darwin brothers' and their men's sense of unease.

Steven, twenty-two and battle-worn, sensed the threat. His hand shot up, signalling caution, though his soldiers were already alert, hands on swords and spears, eyes searching the dark. The air pulsed with raw power, and a cold, robotic voice spoke in Kelvin's mind from the system that had guided them through many dangers: Notice: Dangerous aura detected. Strong magic present. Likely a mana beast waking up.

Kelvin, twenty-eight and fearless, grinned. "Well, hell. Time for some fun."

Steven's jaw tightened, his mind racing. "Move!" he ordered, voice cutting through the heavy air. The group pushed forward, drawn to the chaos. Battle sounds grew louder—magic blasts, clanging steel, and bold shouts mixed with the roaring wind. A bright light pulsed from the forest's core, growing stronger with each step.

A loud BOOM shook the ground, snapping old trees like twigs. Dust and debris exploded, hiding everything. Kelvin peered through the haze, spotting glowing red eyes full of hunger. As the smoke cleared, the sight was grim: fallen elves, graceful but broken, lay scattered, blood staining their elegant forms. Elves were known for magic and fighting skill, yet they lay defeated, weapons raised in vain.

Another roar tore through, a shockwave knocking the group back. From the fading haze stepped a beast of nightmares: a giant wolf, big as a dragon. Its fur glowed like moonlight, and its black fangs shone with threat. Magic poured off it, twisting the air like heat waves. Its red eyes locked on them, promising death.

The system spoke again, calm and cold: Notice: Skyhowl detected. Evolved wolf, legendary-class beast. The Galesworn.

Amid the chaos, one figure stood firm. An elf in ornate armour, glowing with runes, stood tall, silver hair whipping in the wind. His wounds were minor, his stance strong. His eyes, fierce but soft, locked on the beast—not with hate, but with a desperate need. "Leave her be!" he shouted, his voice strong and clear.

The Galesworn's gaze snapped to the elf, its huge body tensing. With a snarl, it lunged, fangs flashing. The elf dodged with unnatural skill, but the beast kept coming, claws slicing the air. A glancing hit caught the elf, blood seeping through his armor, yet he stood firm.

Kelvin, always eager, stepped up, hands sparking with magic. "Let's make this fair," he muttered, readying a spell. But the elf's voice boomed again, sharp. "Stay back, humans! This is our fight. You don't belong here!"

Kelvin paused, his grin fading to a scowl. "Stubborn fool," he muttered, half impressed, half annoyed. Steven raised a hand, voice calm but firm. "Stand down, Evevryone. Help the wounded." He turned to his soldiers. "Get the fallen elves. Move!"

The soldiers jumped to work, pulling the injured to safety and casting healing spells. The elf, unfazed, faced the Galesworn alone. He raised his sword, its blade glowing as magic flowed through it. "O Zyphora, God of Forest and Wind, give me strength to end this!" he shouted. A bright light burst from him, lighting the clearing. "Wind Cutter!" he yelled, swinging his blade.

A sharp gust shot toward the Galesworn, strong enough to cut stone. The beast didn't move. The spell hit its glowing fur and vanished, leaving no mark. The elf's eyes widened, a gasp escaping. The soldiers muttered in shock.

The system spoke in Kelvin's mind again: Notice: The Galesworn has Zyphora's divine blessing. Immune to wind magic.

Kelvin's heart sank. The Galesworn wasn't just a mana beast—it was one of five legendary creatures, blessed by the gods. No wind magic could harm it. The elf's resolve shook, his sword trembling.

The Galesworn roared, its huge paws digging into the earth, ready to charge. The elf stood his ground, defiance in his eyes despite the odds. Steven and Kelvin shared a look, years of trust passing silently. They couldn't just watch.

"Form up!" Steven ordered, voice steady despite the fear. The soldiers lined up, shields raised, swords ready, mages casting protective spells. Kelvin cracked his knuckles, grinning again. "Let's teach this big dog a lesson."

The elf glanced back, his face torn between gratitude and reluctance. "I told you to stay out," he said, softer now, almost begging.

Steven met his gaze, firm. "You're fighting for something. So are we. Let us help."

Red eyes narrowed as the Galesworn prepared to attack. The air was heavy with the impending battle, and the forest seemed to pause. The lone elf, the Darwin brothers, and their soldiers prepared.

The struggle for survival had started, as well as for whatever was causing the elf to fight so desperately.