I’ve Reincarnated into an Elf - Ch 07

Chapter 07

Despite all his talk about the “First Age,” Eldmir had his own goals.

That mythical era? It didn’t mean much to him. What he was really after was something else entirely.

The game was heading towards a racial conflict. So, making small moves now would help the elves later.

He was preparing for the war. Building some kind of relationship with the beastfolk.

At the very least, avoiding outright hostility. Normally, it would’ve been impossible, but if those kids really were royalty among the beastfolk, maybe there was a chance.

And this was something only someone like him—a former player—could pull off.

That was the answer Eldmir had come to. A conclusion born from his desire to preserve the elven race.

Yes, somewhere along the way, he’d realized just how much he’d come to love the elves as a people.

“…Hmph.”

The mention of the First Age seemed to have made Istain hesitate. As an elf himself, he probably had his own blurry dreams of that era.

“Brother, I hope you can understand. I used to think the same way you do. But my perspective… it’s changed.”

“…”

Istain stayed silent. His furrowed brow made it clear he had plenty to say, but it looked like he was struggling to decide where to start.

Seeing this, one of the other elves stepped in, clearly frustrated.

“Istain, are you really going to listen to this child?”

It was an elf with his hood pulled low, his voice dripping with discontent.

“We don’t have much choice, Ervan. This young brother and Esiria seem set on their position. And we can’t just turn our backs on our tribe, can we?”

“This is ridiculous. Why are we bending over backward for those animals?”

“Hey, brother,” Eldemir cut in with a frown, showing his teeth.

“If you’ve got so much to say, why don’t you say it to my face instead of complaining like a kid?”

“…What did you just say?”

Ervan’s hooded figure visibly irritated, clearly taken aback. Eldmir, on the other hand, felt an odd sense of amusement.

The elves in his village had never once shown anger like this.

Seeing an elf actually lose their temper? It wasn’t scary—it was… fascinating.

Encouraged by curiosity, Eldmir decided to keep pushing.

Somewhere along the way, his initial nervousness had completely vanished, replaced by a strange sense of ease.

“Brother, why so childish? Look, you have your duties, and I have mine. Right now, our paths are crossing a bit, sure. But if we all just compromise a little, we can resolve this peacefully. It’s simple, isn’t it? You fulfill your duty, we fulfill ours, and that’s that.”

Apparently, that struck a nerve. Ervan stepped forward from behind Istain, pointing a finger toward Eldmir’s face.

“You’ve got some nerve, kid. We’ve lived for centuries as the protectors of this forest. Centuries! Putting our lives at risk! For our people, for the forest! Do you understand that? Centuries!”

His breathing was heavy, his anger still burning.

“And what do you have to show for it, huh? You haven’t even undergone your coming-of-age ceremony. What kind of duty or responsibility could someone like you possibly have? Have you ever risked your life in battle? Ever upheld the sacred oath of the forest? No? Then stay out of this, little brother. You know nothing.”

“…”

“Enough, Ervan. He’s just a kid, like you said. No need to get so worked up,” Istain said, stepping in to calm things down.

Ervan took a deep breath, trying to control his anger.

“Yeah. I need to cool off.”

Watching Ervan pull himself together, Eldmir felt frustrated.

He didn’t show it, but inside, he was embarrassed. He’d been running his mouth, getting ahead of his limits, and now he’d been challenged.

Honestly, he hadn’t expected to get challenged—especially by another elf. It was his own fault for spouting off like that without thinking.

He’d been so relaxed that even his attitude had become careless. Eldmir took a breath and apologized.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect any of you.”

Ervan had been right. Eldemir wasn’t a protector. He’d never fought in a war or experienced the weight of centuries spent protecting the forest.

And honestly? He’d never even tried to understand.

Because before he was an elf, he’d been a human—a reincarnated soul who’d spent 30 years in another life.

How could he possibly understand what it meant to live for centuries, carrying the duty and commitment that these protector elves upheld?

He couldn’t. He didn’t know their oaths or the burden of their endless years.

But still, he’d spoken too lightly, ignorant of their beliefs.

Hearing his apology, Ervan shot Eldmir a hard glare before clicking his tongue and looking away.

At that moment, the last elf, who’d been silently watching until now, finally spoke.

“So… instead of arguing in circles, how about we settle this?

What do we do, friends? Should we respect these ‘guests’ our young friends are defending so eagerly?”

“That’s obviously—”

“It’s not that simple, Ervan.”

Istain cut him off before he could shout.

“This could result in a problem between villages. It’s better to negotiate and find a reliable solution here.”

“Negotiate? Why should we bend over backward for their opinions?” Ervan snapped.

“That’s easy enough,” Eldmir interjected.

Ervan glared at him fiercely, but Eldemir just shrugged it off and kept going.

“You won’t back down, and neither will we. If you’re really set on fulfilling your duty toward those beastfolk girls, then you’ll have to go through me first.”

“…What?”

A heavy silence settled over the group. Eldmir, for his part, felt strangely resigned.

His initial plan to quietly let Esiria handle everything had long since fallen apart.

Now, he’d decided he would save those beastfolk girls—no matter what. He was ready to go all in.

“You asked if I’d ever risked my life in battle.”

Eldmir smiled. It wasn’t the carefree frown from earlier. This time, it was sharp—almost predatory.

That smile carried the weight of someone who’d lived through a harsh and bitter life.

He wasn’t just an elf.

He was someone who’d been thrown into this world, into this game-like reality, and had fought tooth and nail to survive.

This world might’ve started as a game, but it had become something real. And survival here was not that easy.

During the game’s unique childhood tutorial phase, players couldn’t rely on any systems—no saves, no status windows, nothing.

Players had to push their characters to their limits, or else end up with a useless mess of a build.

The choices made in childhood determined everything: stats, skills, even class options after the coming-of-age ceremony.

So when Ervan asked that question…

“Have I? Oh, plenty.”

“…You…”

“Sure, I don’t know what it’s like to live for centuries as you have. I can’t possibly understand the weight of your duty. I haven’t even had my coming-of-age ceremony yet, so what could I know?”

But even so, Eldemir didn’t back down.

He met Ervan’s gaze head-on, his resolve burning brighter than ever.

“And because I don’t know, I respect your commitment. You can’t just stand by as protectors, and I get that. But just as you have your duty, we have ours. So let’s skip all this back-and-forth and settle things in a way we can all accept. Something… straightforward.”

Eldmir pulled out his bow.

Deliberately, slowly, as if daring them to stop him.

All eyes were on the bow as he nocked an arrow.

“Let’s have a duel.”

“Er…”

“Just trust me, Mother. For once.”

Esiria tried to stop him, her voice filled with worry, but Eldemir didn’t even glance at her.

His focus remained solely on the three elves in front of him.

―You sure you can handle this, you little rebel?

A familiar voice whispered close—Ather had crept up at some point.

Eldemir didn’t answer him. Instead, he spoke to the elves.

“There’s no other way. If we keep arguing like this, nothing will get resolved. Meanwhile, those beastfolk will die. So let’s cut the pointless chatter and decide things the quick way.”

“You… are you even really an elf?” Ervan asked, looking completely frustrated.

This was the phrase Eldmir had heard most often from the villagers throughout his life.

He bared his teeth in a frown and dropped the polite tone, switching to his usual casual and cheeky manner.

“Then what do I look like, huh? You little punk.”

The bowstring in his hand snapped.

The three Sentinels were visibly shocked. They hadn’t expected him to actually shoot.

Whoosh!

In that instant, the wind seemed to guide the arrow’s path.

―Oh-ho!

Ather let out an impressed sound.

But it wasn’t the spirits guiding the arrow. It wasn’t some mystical connection to the forest, either.

It was purely Eldmir’s will. His determination to control the arrow moved the wind itself.

This was no ordinary display of archery; it was a skill that transcended into the realm of the extraordinary, something only those who had dipped their toes into the mysterious could achieve.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

One arrow, but the sound of impact rang out three times.

“What the—?”

“This is…!”

The three protectors cried out in shock.

Before they could even blink, the arrow had pierced each of their clothing in different spots—only to return back to Eldmir.

One had their cloak pierced, another had the edge of their tunic torn, and the third had the arrow graze their side.

It all happened so fast that the seasoned protectors, with centuries of experience, didn’t even realize what had happened until they felt the holes in their clothes.

Cold sweat ran down their backs as the realization sank in.

“I told you, didn’t I?”

This moment solidified Eldmir’s confidence in himself as a player.

It was his proof—proof that he had the strength to stand toe-to-toe with the unwavering beliefs these protectors had cultivated over centuries.

It was all thanks to a skill.

In Omega World, the tutorial phase stripped players of any system aids—no status screens, no inventory, nothing.

And yet, Eldemir had mastered a skill during that time, through absolute effort.

He didn’t gain it through a class change or system upgrade. It was his own achievement, earned by striving in the harshest conditions.

Learning a skill as a child was extraordinary, even in the game’s history. It was an incredible accomplishment—one that filled Eldemir with pride.

“See? I told you not to underestimate me.”

Eldmir shrugged and casually knocked another arrow.

The three Sentinels tensed and began drawing their own bows in response.

“Eldmir.”

Esiria’s voice was filled with anxiety as she called his name, but he ignored her.

“That was just a warning, brothers. I may be young, but I’m not weaker than any of you. Even if the three of you combined your strength, it wouldn’t change anything.”

He slowly drew his bowstring again, deliberately emphasizing each movement.

“So, this is your last chance.”

With the bow fully drawn, Eldemir’s voice carried the weight of his manipulation.

“I think my suggestion is the most reasonable solution. Don’t you agree?”

“…”

Ervan, and even Istain, were at a loss for words. They just stared at Eldmir in stunned silence.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ervan scowled and turned to Esiria.

“Damn it… Esiria! Do something about your son! Do you even understand what it means for elves to point their bows at one another?!”

El Lur’ offspring, huh?

Eldmir let out a mocking snort at the insult.

The ancestor god of the Dark Elves? Really? Me?

If they’d compared me to Ka’Faran, the goblin god, at least that would’ve made more sense.

“Mother, don’t answer him. Just trust me—trust your son.”

“Young elf!” Ervan roared.

“Even if you help those four beastfolk girls, what’s the point? Do you really think saving them will bring harmony between our kind and theirs? It’s all a fantasy! Wake up! You’re risking our unity over some wild animals!”

He made a solid argument.

But Eldmir still didn’t lower his bow.

“That’s not something you need to concern yourselves with.”

“You little—”

Ervan started to shout again, but Istain placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

“Leave it, Ervan.”

“Istain!”

But Istain just shook his head.

“The young one is right.”

His gaze shifted to Eldmir.

“Just as we carry the weight of our duty, so too do they. If we reduce everything to violence, then we’re no better than savages. That’s not who we are.”

“…”

Ervan clenched his teeth, unable to argue against Istain’s calm reasoning.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, repeating the motion several times before finally falling silent.

Seeing this, Istain nodded and turned back to Eldemir.

“I’ll acknowledge it. You and your companions are following the spirit of the forest. And if that’s the case, then there’s no reason for us to be at odds.”

Eldmir’s eyes flickered with surprise. Slowly, he released the tension on his bowstring and spoke.

“So…”

“Yes.”

Istain nodded firmly.

“We’ll follow your lead, young elf.”