The boy executed the move perfectly. It wasn't a move that involved mana, but pure execution of a flawless technique.

  But in reality, calling such a thing a technique was rather laughable.

  What he did—or what the move was—was a thrust. Stabbing with every ounce of power he could muster, then letting the spear loose.

  The spear should have been held from the upper third and caught again at the end—a move that ensured a hit could land. But he let go of the spear—the crude stick he had made—and it hit the knight's neck perfectly.

  "Guah!" In pain and surprise, the knight shouted—or rather screamed—in a crude, unpleasant voice.

  As for the boy, his body was flung away, blood flowing from his mouth. If it weren't for his tough body, he might have died.

  It was the last thing the boy saw before passing out. The terrakin, enraged, radiated mana waves streaming around its body. Then the boy closed his eyes, succumbing to the pain. He had done his best, and it was for nothing.

  The terrakin rampaged. It should have stayed alone, living peacefully, but it chose this path. It chose to help the boy.

  It liked the boy and enjoyed the change he had brought to its daily life.

  The terrakin roared like the true boss of this region.

  It had always hidden its strength, never involving itself in human affairs, but not today.

  The knight clutched his neck, blocking the bleeding with his aura. He wanted to take a potion, but the terrakin didn't let him.

  Taken off guard, the knight—already bleeding—didn't expect the terrakin to swat at him with a mana-infused attack. He was flung in the same manner as the boy, except his spine and ribs were completely shattered.

  The ule swooped down, standing near the boy, trying to assess his condition.

  The boy's situation wasn't critical. Given his tough physique, he would be fine after receiving some treatment. But neither the terrakin nor the ule knew how to treat a wounded person.

  The terrakin and ule now looked at each other. Their eyes, unlike before, were now filled with sentience.

  They had already agreed on their next action.

  The main troops of the trader's convoy were closing in, but it didn't matter.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The ule didn't show any exceptional abilities—it just flew and let its claws rip their necks with unparalleled precision. Like a reaper of lives, it's attacks never failed to kill on spot.

  The terrakin fought messily, like it always did—smashing, breaking, and destroying.

  It didn't take long before the forest was littered with corpses. Some were broken beyond recognition; others bore small, fatal wounds. But none of them survived these attacks.

  Other than the convoy's stationed personnel, everyone else was dead, including the knight, who—paralyzed—died slowly from his injuries, unable to treat himself.

  At that moment, one of the cages holding slaves was opened forcefully—with enough power to send the door flying, crushing one of the personnel to death.

  The person who appeared at the door was a child, silver-haired with sky-blue eyes. His ears were long and pointy. Apparently, he was an elf.

  Looking like he was suppressing his raging emotions, his face was flawlessly beautiful but also fierce.

  In his hands, he held something that looked like an orb, with runic markings flowing around it.

  At first glance, he seemed majestic, almost royal. He didn't resemble a normal elf, which raised questions: how was he caught? Why hadn't he acted until now?

  He stepped out of the carriage, moving like a phantom. He picked up the sword of the squished man and lunged at the slave traders. He killed... killed and killed until his silver hair was dripping crimson.

  He felt humiliated, to be caught by slave traders... it was the greatest shame. And the way he was caught was even more embarrassing.

  He didn't fear for his fate, as his survival and return were assured, guaranteed... but he didn't like relying on others.

  His rage was apparent in his attacks, slashing wildly at everyone. Faint mana was visible on his sword.

  Every single one of the traders was dead. The humans inside the cages shivered at the sight... the gore. Most of them were normal people who'd never seen blood. Most of them, at least.

  By the time he was done, the terrakin and ule were already within range of the carriage.

  He threw the sword away like a piece of junk, and the orb was placed back into his pocket, now looking like a small pebble.

  He stood before the terrakin and ule, slightly bowing.

  "Rian of the Elven Forest greets the spirit lords of Swamp Forest." His hands were cupped forward in respect.

  Recognition was apparent in their eyes. This kid wasn't an enemy. The elven race were always friends of the forest. Elven or not, to them, a forest was a forest.

  Their connection to nature was their lifeline and everything.

  It also seemed his elven clan had some history with these two oddballs.

  The ule—in a hurry—guided Rian to where the boy was lying. Rian looked at him curiously.

  "He does somewhat look like a half-elf, but I can't say for sure. He doesn't have any connection to nature." As an elf, he could feel the connection to nature of others.

  The terrakin picked up a—surprisingly—intact potion from the corpse of the knight, but Rian objected. "This potion is human-exclusive. It won't work on him. I'll try using healing magic instead. Please rest assured."

  He knelt near the boy, extending his hands, which shone with a bluish-green glow. It looked beautiful and rather peaceful, yet the intensity grew.

  After a few minutes, beads of sweat covered his face. His hair was damp.

  He felt utterly drained, but he had succeeded.

  The boy's breathing stabilized. He no longer looked like someone in agony but rather someone peacefully sleeping.

  Rian stood up, drenched in sweat. He exhaled deeply.

  "Hooooo."

  "I'll go take care of the caged people. They will have to find their way back on their own," Rian said as he walked slowly toward the convoy—or rather, the cages and horses now.

  Minutes passed slowly. Rian knew that if he didn't return soon to The Elven Forest, there could be a war.