I’ll be the Red Ranger
Chapter 139 – It isn’t over

- Oliver -

"Thank you, thank you so much," the Elf whispered, his voice laden with emotion. "I thought I would die in the Orks' prison. We've been imprisoned for decades."

Oliver heard the Elf's words in English, but he noticed that the movements of the Elf's mouth didn't match the sounds. It was as if some automatic translator was at work. The Elf wasn't originally speaking in that language.

"Uh... don't worry about it. I saved you by chance; I was just trying to survive," Oliver replied, slightly embarrassed by the gratitude.

"Even so, we are deeply grateful," the Elf responded. "May I come closer?"

Oliver nodded, but unsure if that gesture meant the same thing to aliens, he decided to answer verbally as well. "Yes."

The Elder Elf stepped forward until he was only a few centimeters from Oliver. Extending both hands, he began to chant softly. Before his palms, intricate runes materialized in the air, formed from shimmering particles of Energy.

Suddenly, a series of notifications flashed in the corner of Oliver's vision.

| Left Eye of Learning

| Learning …

| [Skill] Healing Energy

| Progress: 0.01%

| ERROR

| You don’t have access to [Arcane]

| [Hint] Continue improving your control over Energy.

The barrage of messages left him little time to understand everything.

But the most important thing was that he was healing. Rapidly, his wounds began to close, the bleeding stopped, and the cuts vanished. However, he still felt utterly exhausted.

"This will help keep you alive, but you will still need to rest," the Elf explained, noticing Oliver examining his healed wounds.

"Thank you," Oliver expressed his gratitude for the treatment, but his curiosity didn't stop there. He raised his eyes, observing the group of Elves.

In addition to the two elders with long white hair and slightly wrinkled skin, there was a young girl who didn't seem to be more than thirteen, with golden hair cascading over her shoulders. Beside her stood a teenage boy, his eyes sharp and filled with caution and wonder.

‘Didn't he say they'd been imprisoned for decades?’ Oliver mused silently. Then it dawned on him. ‘Ah, right. Elves live much longer than humans. Wait. Should I trust the mythology I know?’

Breaking the silence, he asked, "How did you get captured by the Orks?"

The elder sighed, his eyes reflecting distant memories. "We were in the Game's final days, on the brink of freedom. But they ambushed our ship and took us prisoner. Orks have been trying for ages to understand how to control the arcane and the energy, and we were the easiest way for them to learn," he explained.

The mention of the "Game" piqued Oliver's curiosity even further. It wasn't the first time he'd heard the term, but clarity continued to evade him.

"Over the past few months, I've met several people who've mentioned this 'Game'," Oliver said, his tone careful. "What exactly is it?"

The elder's expression grew distant, a flicker of apprehension crossing his features. The other elder stepped closer, placing a reassuring hand on his comrade's shoulder. They began conversing in hushed tones, their words flowing in melodic Elvish. While Oliver recognized the language, his grasp of it was too rudimentary to follow their exchange.

After a moment, the elder turned back to him. "It's not that I don't wish to explain or help you," he began cautiously. "But if you're using the Emerald Armor, it means the Father of Elves has returned. If I violate any of the Game's rules, I risk drawing my entire species back into this war."

Oliver blinked, processing the weight of the revelation. The idea that sharing certain information could have such catastrophic consequences was unsettling. But after his encounters with two Sovereigns and witnessing their unfathomable powers, he was becoming used to the extraordinary.

"I understand," he said slowly. "I don't want to cause any trouble for you or your people."

The elder offered a slight nod. "I will try to explain just the basics—what won't bring harm. Even if you're not the Alpha."

"Alpha?" Oliver repeated, the unfamiliar term hanging in the air.

The elder hesitated before continuing. "Imagine that, eons ago, before humans or Elves existed, there was another race. Beings older and far more powerful than any we know. They fed on conflict, war, and faith."

Oliver leaned against the wall, his attention fully captured. It felt as if the elder was weaving an epic tale, yet the gravity in his voice suggested this was no mere story.

"However, there is a natural limit to the conflicts and wars that can occur," the Elf continued. "To satiate their hunger and expand their power, these beings gathered in this galaxy. Each one seeded a new civilization, pitting them against one another."

Oliver felt a chill run down his spine. "So they're manipulating entire civilizations for their own gain," he murmured.

The elder nodded solemnly. "Yes. But despite their immense powers, they aren't invincible. They are bound by limitations, by rules and contracts."

It echoed what Cernunnos had hinted at—an underlying order even among the omnipotent.

"Some civilizations vanished over time, leading to the dissolution of some of these beings," the Elf said quietly. "Others found ways to escape the Game. And some believe there's a path to victory within it." His eyes met Oliver's, holding a depth of centuries. "Which destiny will your civilization choose?"

Oliver pondered the question, the enormity of it pressing upon him. "So there is a way out of this endless war? A way to end the conflict with the Orks?"

"Perhaps," the elder replied. "But I cannot say if what worked for the Elves will work for humans."

"How did you escape the Game?" Oliver asked, a hint of desperation edging into his voice.

A regretful expression crossed the elder's face. "I'm sorry, but that's a path you must discover on your own. The risk to share such knowledge is too great for us."

Disappointment settled in Oliver's chest, but he couldn't blame them. "I understand," he said, pushing himself off the tree and wincing slightly. "It's just... we're searching for any way to end this."

The elder regarded him thoughtfully.

"You mentioned the term 'Alpha' earlier," Oliver pressed cautiously. "Can you tell me what that means?"

"They are individuals with direct access to their creator Sovereign," the elder explained. "It could be one person or several. They are the only ones who truly understand the nature of the Game and what's at stake."

Oliver absorbed this information, the pieces of a larger puzzle slowly falling into place. So there were those who had a direct line to these god-like entities.

"Thank you. Do you already know how you'll escape? Human ships are expected to arrive at any moment; it'd be better if they didn't find you," Oliver explained.

"Are you still planning to use that ship?" the Elf asked, pointing to the vessel that had been wrecked during the battle.

"Uh... no, I won't be using it," Oliver replied.

The four Elves approached the damaged ship. Once again, they extended their hands toward it, beginning a melodic chant. As they sang, the ship's hull began to shimmer, strange runes materializing and infusing into the metal. The side of the ship seemed to melt and reshape under their touch.

The areas that had been destroyed—the twisted metal and exposed circuitry—started to mend rapidly. The metal flowed back into place as liquid, wires reconnected, and circuits realigned themselves, restoring the ship to its former glory.

Within moments, the vessel stood before them, pristine and whole, exactly as it had been before Oliver and the Red Ork had torn it apart.

"Impressive," Oliver remarked, awe evident in his voice as he witnessed the Elves' abilities.

"Farewell, Human," the elder Elf said with a nod.

"How can I contact you?" Oliver asked the elder.

"It's better if you don't contact us—for your safety and ours. We're already putting targets on all our heads by interacting with a race in the Grand Game," the elder explained before boarding the ship. Seconds later, the engines hummed to life, and with a burst of light, they departed, leaving him alone in the hangar.

"I’ll have to wait for the rescue team," Oliver muttered, leaning back against the wall. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, but there was a sense of accomplishment in having helped the Elves escape.

Before he could rest, the crackle of his communicator pierced the silence, drawing his attention.

"Ranger Oliver, what's your status?" The officer's voice was edged with static.

‘Damn it, how do I explain this?’ Oliver thought anxiously. "I—I managed to escape the Red Ork. I'm injured but not in critical condition," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Roger that. We're currently under heavy attack from Titans at Half Wall. The Mechs have been diverted to assist in the defense. Your extraction will be delayed longer than expected," the officer explained.

'Thirty minutes, huh?' Oliver recalled the earlier warning about the delayed rescue.

"No problem," he said into the communicator. "I'll hold my position."

Pushing himself off the wall, he dusted off his battered armor. The hangar was eerily quiet now, the silence only interrupted by the distant sounds of battle echoing through the facility.

"Maybe I can help somehow," Oliver pondered aloud. His gaze drifted to the distant plumes of smoke rising over the horizon. The thought of his comrades fighting without him didn't sit well.

"Only one way to find out."

He tapped the interface on his wrist device.

[Activate]

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