NOVEL WEB B2 Chapter 4 Locals Part 2
As we lingered in the elf's shadow, I had more time to observe the details of his worn and mismatched gear. His leather chest armor was riddled with holes, the result of amateur repairs by someone lacking skill in crafting. The armor itself was ancient, weathered by time, and looked like it had seen better days long before it came into this boy's possession.
His pants were in even worse condition—filthy, tattered, and hanging loosely around his frame as if they'd been made for someone twice his size. Near the boots, the fabric was ripped and torn, with more signs of clumsy attempts to mend them. It was an odd sight, to say the least. Elves, even those living on the outskirts of their villages, rarely allowed themselves to be so poorly equipped. They prided themselves on their craftsmanship and their connection to nature, often producing high-quality garments and gear.
Yet here was this boy, outfitted in ragged clothing that barely seemed to fit him. The only items that looked like they belonged to him were his boots—old, yes, but surprisingly intact compared to the rest of his ensemble. Even his weapon, a rusty rapier, was a shadow of what an elf should carry. I watched in silence as a goblin attacked him, and the weapon’s dullness became painfully clear. He had to thrust it several times into the same spot to bring down the slow, clumsy creature. It was far from the elegant, precise combat elves were known for.
Confusion gnawed at me. Nothing about this elf's situation made sense. All the knowledge I had about elves was being challenged. They should have been well-outfitted, even in remote areas, yet this boy seemed like he had been abandoned or neglected by his people. I tried to think of a reason for this—maybe a punishment? An exile? But none of those explanations fully accounted for the condition of his gear or his hesitant, fearful demeanor.
More time passed, and eventually, the elf's village came into view. As we approached, I noticed his slow pace. His face grew paler the closer he got, as though he was dreading what awaited him there. Something was deeply wrong in this village. I could feel it—a tension in the air, a kind of bleakness that made my skin crawl even from the safety of the shadows. Whatever was happening here, it wasn’t normal for elves. And I was going to find out why so that I could report it to the master.
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The boy hadn't even made it a hundred feet from the village gate before the guards began to shout down at him from their tree tower. I watched as he stopped in his tracks, seemingly accustomed to this treatment. Slowly, he placed his bag filled with herbs and mushrooms on the ground, then stepped back five paces.
A wind sprite descended from the tower, light and ethereal, snatching up the bag before returning to the guards. I stayed perfectly still, observing the interaction closely. This wasn't normal. Something sinister lingered in the air between the boy and the village.
After a few minutes of eerie silence, the guard launched an arrow. For a brief moment, I almost thought we had been discovered. My heart pounded as the arrow sliced through the air toward the boy. But then I realized—they weren’t aiming at me. They were aiming at him. The boy barely managed to dodge, but the arrow grazed his face, leaving a thin cut near his left eye. It was clear that this was no warning shot. They had aimed directly for his eye—intending to blind him. The malice in that action was unmistakable.
Attached to the arrow was the same bag the boy had placed down, but now it was nearly empty. His hands trembled slightly as he untied the bag and opened it. For a brief moment, a flicker of hope crossed his face—hope that perhaps some of what he had gathered had been spared. But when he dumped the bag's contents onto the ground, all that fell out was a single poisonous herb, one I recognized immediately. It was a cruel plant, designed to cause slow, agonizing death. No one would mistake it for anything else.
The guard, perched above in the tree tower, erupted into laughter, his voice dripping with cruelty. "Eat it!" he shouted mockingly, his laughter echoing through the trees. The boy’s face twisted with a flash of anger—a brief, but unmistakable, show of defiance. But just as quickly, it faded, and he glanced down at the ground.
The arrow that had cut the boy vanished without a trace, as though it had never been there. I glanced up at the guard, who had already nocked another arrow, his expression shifting from amusement to pure disgust. He held his bow taut, eyes locked on the boy, daring him to make any move that might give him an excuse to shoot again.
This... this was beyond cruelty. I had thought that elves were a proud and harmonious people, but this village was different—twisted. The dynamic between the boy and these guards wasn't one of protection or mutual respect. It was one of torment. Why? Why was he treated like this? What had he done to deserve such scorn? And how could we use it against them? I needed to understand why. Perhaps this boy held more secrets than even he realized.
I altered my plans as the boy fled from the village, his sobs echoing softly through the forest. Hiding in his shadow, I felt the chaotic swirl of emotions rippling through him—grief, frustration, and anger, most of it directed inward. He ran and ran as if trying to escape the pain, but I stayed with him, waiting for the moment when I could act.
This boy would be my key. By delivering him to Master, I would prove my value. It might not be enough for Vorthan to assist me in finding a path to greater power, but it would move me one step closer. My shadow imp form might be weak now, but if I continued to demonstrate my usefulness, I could rise above this pitiful existence and evolve into something greater. My ambition burned as fiercely as the hatred I felt for my current state.
Eventually, the boy reached a large tree, his pace slowing. He wiped at his tear-streaked face, then began climbing. He moved quickly, clearly familiar with the tree, and I watched as he ascended towards a small, hidden shelter nestled among the branches. It was a makeshift home, built from twigs and twine, just big enough for a child like him to curl up in.
I remained hidden as he settled inside. He was safe for now, away from the torment of the village, but that was temporary. He wouldn’t know it yet, but his path was about to change forever. Soon, I would take him to Master. And once I did, this boy’s fate would no longer be his own.
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Hours later, after the boy had finally cried himself into an exhausted sleep, I signaled the other shadow imp to remain behind and guard him. He was vulnerable now, and I couldn't risk anything happening to him before I brought him to Master. My plans hinged on his safe capture, and losing him would set me back far more than I was willing to tolerate.
The next step was finding a sleeping poison to keep him sedated for the journey. The last thing I needed was for him to wake up mid-transport, especially while in the shadow realm. The shadow pathways we used were treacherous for those unaccustomed to them—if the boy woke up disoriented and panicked, he could stumble into a deeper part of the shadow realm, lost forever. Such a mistake would cost me dearly.
I slipped out of the tree hut and began scanning the forest floor for herbs. If this planet had the lethal poison the guards had cruelly tempted the boy with, it surely also had herbs with more benign uses—like inducing sleep. I couldn't afford to waste time; once I secured the sleeping poison and had the boy back at the base, I'd need to report everything we had learned. Any useful information would further solidify my standing with Master. My eyes scanned the ground intently, seeking any trace of the right herb. Time was of the essence. Every moment wasted was a risk—both for my mission and my future.
After ensuring that the sleeping herb wouldn't kill the boy, I mixed it with water and carefully made him drink it. His breathing slowed, and his body relaxed even more deeply into sleep. That was my signal to begin the next phase of my plan.
I called the other imps back, issued orders for them to continue scouting and searching for points of interest, and watched as they disappeared into the shadows, vanishing from sight. With them gone, I turned my attention back to the task at hand: making it seem like the boy had been attacked in his sleep. I needed to ensure that if any elf did come looking for him, they would see only what I wanted them to see—a vicious, tragic struggle.
First, I took his hand and made a cut deep enough to leave a convincing trail of blood. I smeared it on the walls and floor of the small hut, making it seem as though he had fought desperately to survive. Next, I tore apart his already damaged leather armor, scattering the pieces haphazardly around the room. Finally, I positioned the rusty rapier in the far corner, as if the boy had tried to reach for it but failed.
I didn't stop there. Using my claws, I ripped apart the walls of the tree hut itself, snapping branches and breaking the twine that held it all together. It looked convincingly ravaged, as though a larger predator had broken through in the middle of the night, taking the boy with it.
Satisfied with my work, I pulled the unconscious boy into the shadows with me, slipping back into the darkness and beginning the journey back to base. I moved quickly, knowing that I had limited time before the sleeping herb wore off. And with the other elves’ apparent disdain for the boy, I doubted they would come searching for him—especially not after seeing the signs of an attack. Now, all that was left was to return to base and present my prize to Master
Nightfall brought with it an advantage, making me faster and almost invisible as I moved through the dense forest. Shadows stretched long and deep, providing the perfect cover for my swift passage. The absence of shadow monsters on this planet gave me further confidence, allowing me to move unimpeded through the landscape, dodging living creatures with ease. Still, I remained vigilant.
Not long into my journey, I stumbled across a battle between Rank E fire monsters. Their clash lit up the forest, casting flames in every direction. I kept my distance, knowing that even the slightest detection could lead them to follow me back to the base. That would be disastrous. So, I circled, taking a longer route and avoiding their volatile conflict. During the detour, I managed to grab a few horned rabbits, pulling them into the shadows with me. Master would need something to keep the elf alive, after all.
Two hours later, I neared the base. My detour had slowed me down considerably, but with five minutes left before the boy woke, I still had enough time to complete the task. I approached the entrance—a massive boulder that blocked the way—and squeezed through a small gap, slipping through the shadows. Inside the base, I had just three minutes left.
The next obstacle was the second entrance, protected by a rune-inscribed barrier. This one was more tedious, requiring the precise input of runes to lower the shield for only a brief moment. My hands worked quickly, gliding over the symbols etched into the stone. The barrier shimmered and gave way with two minutes and forty seconds to spare. I slipped through just as the magical shield re-formed behind me.
Finally, inside, I dropped everything from my shadow—the unconscious elf boy, the horned rabbits—and bound them tightly with shadow magic. With less than a minute remaining, I called out to Vorthan. His presence was needed now; this "gift" would surely please Master and help me advance in his favor. Vorthan, ever dutiful, would come.