I’ve Reincarnated into an Elf

Chapter 04

The distance he sensed was about 300 meters ahead.

Even though it was an elf’s home ground—the forest—detecting a presence that far away was abnormal.

“Mother, please rest a bit. I’ll go check.”

“Alright… but don’t go alone, dear. Even though you might be a promising protector, you’re still just a child who hasn’t had their coming-of-age ceremony yet.”

“… Yes. Besides, I’m not exactly alone.”

With that, Eldmir reached out and grabbed Atir by the scruff of the neck.

“Hey! Let go! I’ll stay here and guard Esiria!”
“Shut it.”

Ignoring Atir’s protests, Eldmir leaped up into a tree. Finding a good spot, he fixed his gaze on where he sensed the presence.

“You cursed idiot. What kind of danger could you possibly face here that requires my presence? Release me!”

“I said, shut up. Those guys have a good sense of hearing. Keep quiet.”

“You’re like a rotten log that’s been soaking in rain for 300 years…”

Ignoring the spirit’s playful but rough remarks, Eldmir switched to observation mode.

“What’s with those guys? There’s not a single one of those four cats that looks like an adult. And that dog… oh, it’s a wolf. That one looks like a war demon, but it’s half-dead already.”

Among them was a mysterious Langin, with its entire body wrapped in bandages like a rag, and four Catfolk of varying sizes. The oldest-looking one couldn’t be more than 15, and the youngest maybe 7.

One curious thing was that there weren’t any wounds caused by elf weapons.

“So, they didn’t fight us and run, then? Actually, maybe…”

Oh, damn. They ran after fighting goblins.

“Ugh, hell. I knew it. Seriously, what a mess.”

—”What? What is it? Let me see too.”

“Hah… I feel so stupid…”

The legend of Sherlock Elf Eldmir, the mystery-solving detective, was never meant to be…

“Here I was, making all these wild assumptions, playing detective, acting like I was in some mystery drama all by myself…

Like, why would an elf go out of their way to attack them first, seriously? It should have been obvious it was the goblins, not us.

Wow, am I really this clueless?”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I can tell you’re drowning in self-doubt. Geez, here we go again, you stubborn fool.”

“Just leave me alone. I really want to crawl into a hole right now.”

“I might not have a hole, but I can make you a rat-sized one. Wanna try it?”

“You’re dead, you little—”

After writhing in embarrassment for a while, Eldmir eventually pulled himself together.

“Anyway, now that we know they aren’t enemies of our race… what do we do next…”

“Oh, come on. Just tell me already.”

Ignoring Atir’s grumbling, Eldmir made a puffing sound with his lips and crouched on a branch.

“Man… how am I supposed to tell Mom about this?”

“What are you supposed to tell me?”

“Ah! Mom! You scared me!”

Eldmir, who had momentarily forgotten they were supposed to be quiet, was so startled he nearly had a heart attack when Esiria appeared like a ghost.

He shouted in shock , “Mother, could you at least give me any sings before appearing like that?”

“I didn’t exactly try to hide my presence…”

“…Oh, really?”

While feeling sorry for himself, he hadn’t even noticed Esiria’s presence. Great, now he was just putting on a one-man show.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, Eldmir forced an awkward smile. Clearing his throat to shake off his embarrassment, he lowered his voice again.

“Mother, you know, all those guesses I made earlier…”

Scratching the back of his head and hesitating, Eldmir finally let out a big sigh and admitted in a self-deprecating tone…

“They were all just my wild imagination. I got it totally wrong.”

“Your imagination?”

“Yeah. Judging by their wounds, they didn’t get hurt by elves; it was the goblins who got to them. Swords, knives… and not a single wound from arrows.”

Of course, the main weapon of elves was the bow.

“So they were running for their lives, trying to escape the goblins… And I guess they were avoiding elves too, just in case, since we’re still technically enemies.”

Even if they were potential enemies, elves generally don’t attack unless provoked.

Exceptions exist, of course, but elves are usually neutral.

That said, it’s different when dealing with the beastfolk, because they have always had issues with elves.

If they were wandering beastfolk from a different area, that was understandable. But that warrior’s outfit looked familiar even to Eldmir.

It was identical to those of the beastfolk warriors who clashed with protector elves from neighboring villages a few times.

So, from an elf’s perspective, they were pretty much the enemy.

“Oh my. Then, did those children’s villages get wiped out by goblins?”

“Most likely, yeah.”

Which explained why they were carefully moving through the forest in such a state.

The young Catfolk seemed to be in better shape, probably because the Langin had done his best to protect them. But the Langin himself was barely alive.

One of his legs was in such bad shape he was only able to walk with the support of the young Catfolk.

Eldmir was surprised they managed to hide their tracks so well in that state.

“I thought they were highly trained or something since they left almost no tracks, but I guess the cats just have their natural instincts, and the wolf… Well, that guy must be the real deal. Even half-dead, he can hide his presence that well.”

“Hmph. So what’re you going to do about it?”

“Who knows.”

Thinking they were enemies of the elves, he’d chased them down with all his potential, only to find that they were actually tragic victims of the goblins.

Four young Catfolk girls and a Langin warrior who’d risked his life to protect them.

Their village was destroyed, and they were fleeing through enemy territory, desperately trying to reach a distant beastfolk village.

If this had been a game, he wouldn’t have hesitated to decide whether to kill or spare them.

In his past life as Eldmir, whenever he was in situations like this in games, he’d make choices based on his mood or his character’s personality, without thinking too much.

After all, the others were just NPCs, AIs, bits of data ,they weren’t real, breathing beings in front of him.

They were simply tools for gameplay, a bit of flavor to spice things up. That’s all they were.

In a game, that’s what he would’ve done.

In the game, he’d killed many lives. Sure, sometimes he’d let some live, but MMORPGs were all about getting stronger through killing.

He’d killed monsters, NPCs, even random villagers.

Sometimes there was no reason—maybe he was just bored, or maybe he wanted to raise his bounty, or sometimes it was just a misclick.

In the game world, that was all fair play. It was just a game.

But one day, that game turned into his reality.

“Hey?”

Killing someone.

For the past 20 years, he’d struggled, hesitated, and feared that act countless times.

Twenty years.

It had been 20 years since he realized that this world wasn’t a game anymore, and that he was actually a part of it.

He quickly understood that the things that happened in the game would now unfold as reality.

Race wars, monster waves, infernal battles, dragon raids… all kinds of wars and massacres. Ideological battles, conquests, slave uprisings…

The endless deaths of NPCs, all of it just events centered around violence and slaughter.

Those things that were just game events before would now be his future.

“Well, it’s not that hard.”

“What isn’t?”

Killing.

It was just something he had to become numb to.

Killing someone was no longer something that would make him struggle, hesitate, or feel fear.

It was something he’d need to do to survive.

The countless battles and experiences he’d accumulated as Eldmir were proof of that.

Eldmir shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

“It feels wrong to kill them, but it doesn’t feel right to let them go either.”

Eldmir brushed aside his complicated thoughts and focused back on the matter at hand. Even if these beastfolk hadn’t clashed with the elves yet, they’d eventually become enemies.

In fact, the Langin warrior right in front of him was already wearing the outfite of a group that had fought against the elves.

“Considering the bigger picture, eliminating the beastfolk now seemed logical to prevent future elven conflicts.”

“If I think about it that way, killing them seems like the obvious choice…”

Was it their appearance or maybe it was the young age of the Catfolk girls that bothered him?

For some reason, the thought of killing them didn’t sit right.

“Eldmir, but these kids haven’t actually harmed our people, have they?”

“Not right now, no. But think about the past and the future. Don’t you think they could end up being a threat to our people?”

He knew the logic was sound.

Thinking ahead to the unavoidable race war, it was clear that the beastfolk would be nothing less than mortal enemies to the elves.

In Omega World, no matter what choices the player made, the early story would always branch off randomly, creating new storylines each time.

But even though each playthrough’s story was mostly random, there were a few events that almost always happened, one of which was that the elves were the first race to get eliminated in the race war.

And the beastfolk were one of the races that played a big role in that outcome, either directly or indirectly.

As Eldmir recalled these memories, Esiria responded calmly.

“There are only five of them. Four of them haven’t even had their coming-of-age ceremony yet, and the only one who could even be a threat is that Langin warrior. But let’s be honest, that guy doesn’t look like he’s going to be fighting anymore. So how could sparing them harm our people?”

She had a point.

Esiria clearly had her own beliefs and over a century of experience to back up her words.

And truthfully, Eldmir didn’t have much of a counter argument. His worry was more about the beastfolk as a whole, not just these five individuals.

What was the point of stressing over five people right in front of him?

At that moment, the Langin warrior muttered something weakly to the young Catfolk girls.

Though Eldmir couldn’t make out the words, the little cats started shaking their heads and tearing up.

He was probably telling them to leave him behind.

A touching scene indeed: a warrior ready to give his life for his charges, and the young girls crying over his sacrifice.

“Hmm, I don’t know the beastfolk language that well, but I caught a few words.

Princess, hometown, goblin, escape, revenge… so it looks like these kids are actually princesses.”

Princesses, huh?

Eldmir didn’t feel much about that. He’d kind of expected it.

In beastfolk society, men and women usually complete their coming-of-age ceremonies together, after which they’re lifelong mates.

That being the case, this Langin warrior probably had a partner.

And given the beastfolk’s reputation, especially the Langins who were notoriously passionate breeders, there was practically no chance he didn’t have kids of his own.

Yet here he was, with these four young Catfolk girls who clearly weren’t his. That meant he was putting their safety above even his own offspring.

Beyond all that, though, Eldmir couldn’t help but briefly wonder what beastfolk royalty were even doing in such a rural area like this.

And then another thought struck him—did they really have four princesses?

“Four princesses? What’s up with their gender balance?”

Was there a prince out there too? If so, beastfolk breeding instincts sure were something else. Just how many kids did they have?