“It’s a human. They’ve invaded our territory.” [Hmph. To think they’d dare to meddle with the beings of nature over such petty matters. It’s decided. We will incinerate them without a trace.] As the spirit’s words faded, Zharos wheeled around. A storm of fire descended. Erupting from his horns, the inferno engulfed Torg in an instant, a torrent of power that burned away all darkness and bathed the world in crimson light. In a heartbeat, Torg’s body was consumed by the blaze. But the queen shook her head. A hand emerged from within the flames. It swiped casually, batting the fire away as if it were a mere annoyance. Torg was still there, standing in the exact same spot as before. His expression was unnervingly calm. In contrast, Zharos’s own burning form quivered with rage. The spirit wielded pure flame, a force close to the very essence of nature. Even the strongest warrior would suffer grievous harm from a direct hit of such pure Spirit power. Yet this man was seemingly unscathed. […I see. You possess the power to wield the beings of nature. But that is all.] Zharos’s horns burned even more fiercely. He bent his front legs, coiling his power. He tensed his hind legs. Flames erupted from his hindquarters like twin jets. He charged, thrusting his jagged horns forward to impale Torg. And Torg, he simply extended his hand. The impact was explosive. Spirits were beings of nature. Inherently, they did not harm nature itself. But now, the grass and trees ignited. This was a power that sought to overwhelm all other aspects of nature, to cover the world in a single, roaring conflagration. Queen Aeriel hurriedly enveloped herself in her own protective flames. The power of a supreme Spirit was absolute. Even those standing nearby would be consumed if they were not her equal. It was inconceivable that someone at the center of such a blow would be unharmed. A gasp of astonishment escaped Zharos’s mouth. His horn had been stopped by Torg’s open palm. The horn, imbued with pure, primordial flame, could not penetrate simple human flesh. Zharos frantically pushed, pouring even more force into his charge. Torg’s body was completely swallowed by the inferno. But even the spirit’s elemental fire could not burn his skin. Torg calmly clenched his outstretched hand into a fist. “It’s a comfort that you have the form of a beast.” His fist rose slowly. Zharos, sensing a mortal danger, tried to pull back, but the hand clamped around his horn held him fast. “It means I’ll have no reluctance in striking you down.” The fist collided with the horn. The horn, unyielding and wreathed in pure flame, shattered against human knuckles. Zharos’s entire body exploded, scattering into embers. In a single blow, he was banished back to the Spirit realm. A being of incomprehensible strength. If even Zharos was defeated so easily, there was nothing more she could do. She quietly closed her eyes. May her tribe be safe from the hands of this barbarian. Queen Aeriel flinched as he approached, but she did not flee. The barbarian stood before her. “Please… show mercy to my people.” At her quiet plea, Torg placed a hand on her head. The touch was gentle, and unexpectedly warm. In astonishment, the queen opened her eyes. The barbarian spoke softly. “I am not your enemy, elf.” After Torg finished his long explanation, the queen reluctantly accepted the truth. That he was not their enemy. “I… I apologize. Human. We judged you too hastily.” Queen Aeriel bowed her head in a gesture of deep respect. How rude they had been, to mistake the one who had brought the lost child back to them for an enemy. Queen Aeriel was ashamed of herself. Torg tilted his head at her formal apology. “It’s alright. I heard you were driven here by humans. Still… it’s a bit sad that you never gave me a chance to speak.” Queen Aeriel glanced up at Torg. His ashen hair was the color of settled dust. He was taller than an average man by at least two heads. She had to crane her neck back as far as it would go just to meet his eyes. And his physique… From head to toe, his body was a mass of densely packed muscle, with not an ounce of fat to spare—he looked more like a sculpture carved from granite than a man of flesh and blood. Above all else, he radiated an aura of pure intimidation. It was an instinctual sensation, a feeling of being utterly exposed before a predator that words could not capture. Elves were a race close to nature, their senses far more acute than those of humans. Just as herbivores instinctively recoil from carnivores, her very being identified him as a hunter. Hearing her side of the story, Torg wore a troubled expression. “…Is that so? I had no idea. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before.” “Are you truly not one of the humans who pursued us?” “I’ve never even seen an elf before today. Besides, there are no elves in the Baekseol Plains to begin with.” Queen Aeriel’s pupils dilated. “The… Baekseol Plains?” “…The ashen barbarian of the Baekseol Plains?” “That’s what the humans who wander in from the outside sometimes call me.” “Considering that, your speech is remarkably fluent.” “I learned from the humans who occasionally visit.” Queen Aeriel muttered in disbelief. “I thought humans couldn’t survive there…” The legend of the Emperor was known not only to humans but to all the elder races. They all knew of the terrible monsters of the Baekseol Plains. And of the most dangerous predator among them: the ashen barbarian. The being from that legend was standing right before her. But if he truly was that man, then his strength finally made sense. To withstand Zharos’s assault with his bare body… She would never have believed a human capable of such a feat existed. “Well. I suppose I wouldn’t believe it either if a being like me showed up in my lands. Your suspicion was reasonable.” As the conversation began to flow more easily, Torg finally allowed himself to look at her properly. The structure of her features was perfect. So flawless, in fact, that he couldn't imagine a more ideal beauty. Torg let out a sigh of pure, simple admiration. Queen Aeriel subtly glanced away under his gaze. She had received such looks many times before, but this one was different. It held none of the usual human desire; it was more like the appreciation one has for a masterpiece of art. “By the way, is that summon of yours alright? It was split in half.” “…That summon attacked you.” He was worried about the being that had tried to kill him. Queen Aeriel shook her head, finding it hard to believe. “You needn’t worry. Spirits are beings of nature. He was merely banished back to the Spirit realm.” After that, they exchanged small talk. Torg asked about the elves, and the queen answered, her caution slowly receding. The more they spoke, the more surprised the queen became. Torg was intelligent and gentle. He was reasonable, polite, and considerate of her feelings. He was far closer to a scholar than a barbarian. “Are all the Horde in the snowfields like you?” “No. I’m something of a special case.” The thought of an entire tribe of men like him was more than just surprising; it was terrifying. That brought another worry to mind. “If you came from the snowfields, does that mean other beings can leave them as well?” “No, I don’t think that will happen.” There was an order to the snowfields. Even a powerful being like that serpent could not break that order. Torg had only managed to escape it through the peculiar circumstances of a quest. “Then that’s a relief.” Queen Aeriel was genuinely relieved. Their new territory was not far from the snowfields. If someone with Torg’s power, but with hostile intent, were to emerge, she didn’t know how her people would possibly survive. After their conversation wound down, Torg stood. “I should be going soon.” “You need to organize your new territory. My presence here will only get in the way.” He could feel the hesitant gazes of her people. Although the elves had warmed to him somewhat, they still kept their distance, a lingering fear in their eyes. His being here was a hindrance. Queen Aeriel bowed her head, her apology seeming sincere. “It’s alright. It’s a shame to leave, but I can always come back later.” “Please, visit whenever you like. You will always be welcome here.” Queen Aeriel looked at Torg with a strange expression. It was the natural order of the world. Even if it was born from a misunderstanding, she had tried to have him killed. There should be a price for that. But Torg simply acted as if the matter was resolved, with no lingering resentment. To show such kindness to someone who had wanted him dead… If truly great men existed, she thought, they must be like him. Queen Aeriel’s gaze softened. “I must apologize properly.” “That isn’t necessary.” “No. My conscience will not be clear otherwise. Is there anything you desire? If there is, I will grant it.” She would grant whatever he wished for. At her determined offer, Torg’s eyes sparkled. “In that case… is it possible to form a contract with a Spirit?” Queen Aeriel was taken aback by the unexpected request. Torg’s eyes were shining with the excitement of a child. After studying his eager face for a moment, the queen lowered her head. “I am sorry, but… that would be impossible. Some humans who are close to nature can form contracts with Spirits, but…” “Is it difficult for me?” “Even we elves are intimidated by your presence. The beings of nature would be even more so.” Contracting with Spirits was impossible. The news made Torg’s expression fall. Watching him, the queen hesitated for a moment before making a decision. “If you truly wish to contract with a Spirit, go to the Elfo Sagrado.” “It is where our elven god resides. The holy land of all elves. There… it might be possible. I will give you its location, but you must keep it to yourself.” “The holy land of the elves? Can I, a human, go there?” “Normally, no. But with my introduction, it should be possible.” The holy land of the elves. It was a place of dreams for any who studied the elven race. But no elf would ever reveal its location, not under torture, not for any temptation. It was a place more precious than life itself. But she had made her decision. She reached her hand into the empty air. A jewel of pure flame materialized in her palm. It floated down into Torg’s hand. “Take this with you. Of course, even if you reach the border, our god will likely test you… but for someone like you, it shouldn’t be a problem.” “I’ll accept it gratefully.” It was time for him to leave. Torg turned to depart from the forest. Queen Aeriel bowed cautiously. “I am Marsilia Hasianne Calusia, Queen of the Veridian Enclave. May I ask your name?” “I am Torg. Just Torg.” “Very well, Torg. I will never forget this debt. Please be sure to visit us again.” With a small chuckle, Torg turned and walked away. Marsilia watched him quietly until he disappeared among the trees.

Chapter 8: A hand through flames