I Became My Elf King Character In A Game-Like World
Chapter 79: The Hunter’s Folly

Chapter 79: The Hunter’s Folly

Garrick let out a short, bitter laugh that held no humor. "Reputation? That ship has sailed, old friend. Those nobles made certain of it. By now, every mercenary from here to the city knows exactly why the our Group marched into this forest. They know we came for elves."

"This..." The old mage hesitated, seeing the unyielding set of his captain’s jaw.

"We’ve come this far. We finish what we started," Garrick declared, his voice hard as stone. "We collect the bounty from those grasping nobles, then we wash our hands of the city and return to the Imperial Capital with money."

Seeing his captain was immovable, the old mage could only manage a strained, resigned smile. The heavy sense of foreboding hadn’t lessened; it clung to him like a shroud. He wouldn’t have dared suggest retreat if the feeling hadn’t been so profoundly unsettling.

Garrick gave the mage’s shoulder a firm, if slightly rough, clap. "Don’t borrow trouble, old friend. Remember the intel, the Elf King is gone, their strongest elders vanished. These woods belong to weakened remnants. This blade," he patted the pommel of his greatsword confidently, "has tasted dragon blood. Surely, capturing a handful of stray elves won’t pose a challenge to us."

Hearing the reminder of his captain’s famed exploit, slaying a young fire dragon, visibly steadied the old mage. His captain was a Dragon Slayer, a warrior proven against immense power. Under the command of such a tenth-circle fighter, perhaps their mission to catch a few elves wasn’t as doomed as his gut screamed it was.

"Captain, the lads are getting restless. Are we moving out?" A younger knight approached, his face alight with a greedy grin. All around the fire, similar expressions reflected the mercenaries’ eagerness.

Capturing elves was the stuff of legends, and the promised reward was life-changing wealth. They were practically vibrating with anticipation.

Garrick rose smoothly to his feet, his earlier confidence returning. "Right then! No sense letting the trail go cold. We move now! Get this done efficiently, and tomorrow night, the celebration at the Tavern... it will be my treat!"

"Hah! That is the Captain I know!"

A wave of rough laughter and cheers rippled through the company.

But as swords were sheathed and packs hoisted, a peculiar, chilling sound drifted from the oppressive darkness just beyond their firelight. It was followed, moments later, by heavy, earth-trembling footsteps.

"Positions!" Garrick roared, the jovial commander instantly replaced by the hardened warrior.

Like clockwork, the Mercenary knights formed a defensive line, swords flashing free. Behind them, mages chanted urgently, hands weaving intricate patterns as shimmering shields of arcane energy snapped into place around the warriors.

"What is that? Forest beast? Or elves?" a mercenary hissed, eyes darting nervously into the blackness.

"Those footfalls... oh my god, it’s... massive!"

"Finish it fast! Before it draws the attention of the main elf settlement!"

As panicked whispers circulated, a soft, ethereal glow began to pierce the gloom. It pulsed gently at first, then intensified, growing brighter and brighter as its source drew nearer.

And then they saw it. The sight stunned them into absolute silence. Even Garrick, the Dragon Slayer, the man who had faced down fiery death, felt his breath hitch, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"A... Unicorn...!" The words escaped Garrick’s lips as a choked whisper, laced with disbelief and sudden, stark terror.

His eyes instantly locked onto the figure seated upon its back, radiating an aura of ancient power.

"An Elf! A High Elf!" Garrick’s face drained of color. The plan, stealth, speed, extraction, had shattered. They were exposed.

Emerging from the wall of trees like a figure from myth, Renjiro sat regally atop the glowing Unicorn. Beneath the moonlit canopy, the creature pulsed with divine light, its pure white form almost painful to look upon, accentuating its sacred majesty. And upon its back, adorned with the Elf King’s crown, Renjiro gazed down at them, his expression one of utter, chilling detachment.

"Greedy humans," Renjiro’s voice, calm yet carrying effortlessly through the clearing, cut through the stunned silence. "Your kind always finds its ruin chasing greed. Your Mercenary Group will share that fate."

Garrick swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet the Elf King’s gaze. "You... You knew we were coming?" He didn’t waste breath on denial. This elf knew their name, knew their purpose. Lies were futile.

"Every step you took in my territory," Renjiro stated simply, "was observed."

Garrick’s expression hardened into a grim mask. "So it was your doing... the unnatural quiet in these woods!" He paused, then decisively drew his greatsword, its blade reflecting the unicorn’s holy light. "But do you truly think one elf and his steed can stand against my entire company?"

Sylphie, the Unicorn, lowered his horn slightly, fixing Garrick with eyes that burned with cold fury. "Human, know this: you stand now upon your burial ground! Your bones will bleach under this moon, and no necromancer’s magic will ever call you back from the darkness!"

"Tenth-Circle Unicorn!" The confirmation struck Garrick with the force of a physical blow.

A wave of audible gasps and curses swept through his mercenaries as the full weight of their situation crashed down.

A standard Tenth Circle beast was a nightmare; a creature of divine magic on that scale was catastrophe. Raw fear, cold and sharp, began to replace their earlier greed.

Garrick desperately locked eyes with Renjiro, the royal crown a mocking symbol of the power he now faced. "You... you are the Elf King. I am Garrick, leader of this Mercenary Group," he declared, forcing strength into his voice. "I am a slayer of dragons! Surely... surely we can find some peaceful resolution? There’s no need for this battle!"

"Negotiation is not an option," Renjiro replied, his voice final, leaving no room for argument.

And as his last word echoed into silence, the forest itself seemed to answer. From the impenetrable darkness encircling the clearing, colossal figures of stone began to emerge, silent as the grave, Giant Golems, looming twenty meters tall, their impassive forms sealing the mercenaries’ doom within an inescapable ring of earth and power.

Simultaneously, a hauntingly beautiful song began to weave through the night air, ethereal and chilling. Then, descending from the shadowed canopy like vengeful angels, floated the Spirits of the Groves, wings beating silently, magic staffs humming with latent energy, their luminous eyes fixed upon the trapped humans below, predators sighting their cornered prey. The trap was sprung.

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