Emperor's harem: Transmigrated with SSS mana talent
Chapter 109: [If opportunity doesn’t come…]

Chapter 109: [If opportunity doesn’t come...]

Too even.

Too deep.

Fresh.

Kael crouched lower, fingers brushing the edge of the print again. The dirt told a story—and it wasn’t wearing boots.

"...No shoes," he muttered.

Yue hovered beside him, peering down.

"Maybe someone who survived your little massacre last night"

Kael nodded faintly.

"Maybe."

But even as he said it, something in his gut twisted.

He didn’t like the shape of the print.

Too delicate. Too soft.

Yue glanced down the path of indentations.

"Should we follow it?"

She turned to Kael.

He was already gone.

She blinked, annoyed.

"Of course."

Kael moved silently now, steps light, body low. He didn’t know if he was heading toward a friend or a threat.

All he knew was that the forest had grown quieter. The wind carried faint voices—too faint to catch.

But enough to make his spine stiffen.

He slipped up a tree in two practiced motions and stilled.

There.

A hollow—formed naturally from the bark of an ancient tree.

Half-hidden.

Someone was sleeping inside.

He focused.

It was a girl.

No—not a girl.

An elf.

His stomach sank.

He slapped a hand over his mouth and whispered through clenched teeth:

"Fuck. Elf."

Yue appeared beside him, expression equal parts stunned and impressed.

"How can she even be here?"

Kael didn’t answer. He was already spiraling.

Nope.

Nope nope nope.

He knew this trope.

He knew exactly what this looked like.

The noble, tragic elf girl.

Found in the woods.

Sleeping. Injured. Mysterious.

He saves her.

She opens her eyes and whispers, "Who... are you?"

They go on a journey.

She reveals a lost kingdom.

Cue tragic violin.

And somewhere down the line, BAM—romantic subplot unlocked.

Kael exhaled slowly through his nose.

He was already imagining it.

But then—

Voices.

Again.

Closer. Real. Tired.

Kael froze.

Then, silently as breath, he slipped to another tree and followed the sound.

A clearing opened below.

Two figures. Elves.

One male—young, maybe Kael’s age, dressed in robes that were once fine, now torn and stained with forest filth.

He clutched his ribs with one arm, limping with a stubborn fury.

Beside him, an older woman—white-haired, hunched, her worn dress barely holding together.

Her steps were shaky, but she kept moving, muttering something under her breath.

Both injured.

Both searching.

Kael’s heart sank.

Slowly.

Dread gathering in his chest like fog.

He didn’t need Yue to say it.

But she did anyway.

"They’re looking for her."

Kael dragged a hand down his face.

There it was.

His protagonist moment crumbling in real time.

"My ’found-an-elf-girl-in-the-woods’ arc just got nerfed," he muttered.

Yue floated beside him, deadpan.

"Reality patched your side quest.

...Sad."

Kael narrowed his eyes at the two wandering elves. His thoughts sharpened.

No one else was here yet.

The girl was still asleep.

The old woman and the boy didn’t know he was here either.

This wasn’t just a story anymore.

It was a setup.

A choice.

His expression hardened as he dropped back behind the leaves, silent and calculating.

"If opportunity doesn’t come..." he muttered.

Yue’s gaze flicked to him.

Kael’s voice dropped, grim.

"Then make one."

Yue raised an eyebrow.

Kael, crouched like some gremlin with a grudge, was digging into his space ring with grim purpose.

After a second of fumbling, he pulled out a thick, sealed bag—squishy, dark, and just slightly pulsing.

Yue floated closer.

"Wait. Is that the thing?"

Kael nodded solemnly.

"Yeah. The one I prepped yesterday."

Yue said flatly,

"You mean the thing that attracted a Rank Four. Right?"

Kael sighed.

"It was supposed to attract up to Rank Three. Max."

He glanced at the bag like it might bite him.

"Yesterday was... an anomaly."

Yue muttered,

"Yeah, let’s hope the anomaly doesn’t have a mate."

He stared at the bag for a long moment, not daring to even loosen the knot.

A chemical cocktail of fermented mana waste, spices, monster gland extract, and something Yue refused to name.

He aimed.

The elves were still moving through the clearing, slow, weary.

He threw.

A perfect arc.

Straight toward them.

Kael braced, lips twitching.

"This is gonna suck."

As the bag arced through the air, the elves paused—noses twitching, expressions twisting into synchronized grimaces of disgust.

The young elf staggered back, clutching his side.

"The hell is that smell?!"

The old woman’s eyes widened.

Her voice cracked with urgency.

"Catch it! Now! That stench draws beasts!"

Despite his injuries, the young man lunged.

He hit the ground hard—none of the usual elven grace—but wrapped his arms around the bag just in time.

He fumbled the seal shut, gasping.

Kael, still hidden, clicked his tongue.

"...How the hell did they smell that?"

Yue floated beside him, dry as bone.

"You said humans can’t detect it."

Kael muttered,

"Yeah, well.

They’re not human.

They’re elves."

And he sighed—long and tired—because of course they were.

The old elf woman’s voice cracked like a whip.

"Who’s there? Show yourself!"

Her tone was sharp—seasoned, suspicious, and tired of surprises.

The younger elf stumbled forward, nostrils flaring from the fall, blood trailing from one side.

"Yeah, come out, bastard!" he snapped.

"This damn forest—this whole trip—it’s cursed!"

He raised his voice to shout more, but—

Something shifted.

The forest went still.

Too still.

Like something holding its breath.

Even the wind coiled in the trees and died.

The old woman felt it.

She straightened slowly. Her lips parted in a whisper only the trees heard.

"...Not good."

Then—

From the dark canopy above, the shadows unraveled.

Not fell.

Unraveled.

And from them, crouched on a thick blackened branch, came a figure.

Still. Low. Watching.

A red mask. Stark against the void of his black robes.

Crouched.

A blade rested behind his neck, the hilt loose in his fingers.

But he wasn’t holding it like a weapon.

He was resting with it.

Casual. Confident.

Predatory.

Eyes behind the mask stared down at them without urgency, like he was observing strange creatures in a terrarium.

The elves didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

Then the figure spoke.

Low.

Calm.

With the unmistakable tone of someone enjoying this:

"Hello, motherfuckers."

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.

It was dangerous.