They were all tall, over six feet for sure. I couldn’t believe I was talking to actual elves. I had expected something out of fantasy, but standing in front of me were living, breathing beings—pointed ears, silky long hair, and an aura that screamed elegance and strength.

Each of them wore different outfits, but they all looked battle-ready, the kind of warriors who had seen more than their fair share of combat.

The archer stood out immediately. His leather armor was tight, form-fitting, and practically made for speed. His light blonde hair bordered on silver, and his piercing eyes were like ice, cold and calculating. His fingers were adorned with multiple rings, and his green bow—no, not just green—was alive. Tiny flowers and branches twisted and sprouted along its length, pulsing with an almost sentient energy. The arrowhead, trained squarely at my chest, was wickedly sharp.

His voice was smooth, yet carried an edge. "One wrong move, and I'll skewer you."

I lifted my hand placidly, trying to show I wasn’t a threat. "Got it."

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" he demanded, his tone unwavering.

I thought for a moment. Diplomacy was the only option. Fighting mindless monsters was one thing, but these elves? They radiated power.

"Alex," I started, trying to sound casual despite the tension. "Uh, just exploring. And you guys?"

He gave me an unamused look, but the woman next to him stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. She wore a deep blue robe, its fabric dotted with small metallic accents that caught the light. Her hair was black and impossibly shiny, her features too perfectly symmetrical, her skin flawless—too perfect, almost unsettling in its beauty.

"Bel’vorgar," she spoke, her voice soft but firm, "he doesn’t have any signs of corruption."

The archer—Bel’vorgar—relaxed just a fraction, but his suspicion was still palpable.

She turned to me then, giving a small but welcoming smile. "I’m Sylvan, a mage. This is our leader, Bel’vorgar," she said, gesturing to the archer. She pointed to the other three: "Thal’gar is our healer, Joro’gar is our warrior and defender, and Ilin’dar is our scout."

The healer—Thal’gar—wore a tattered white robe, and despite his scruffy appearance, there was a certain intensity in his eyes. He gave me a shallow bow.

Joro’gar was a tank through and through. A massive slab of a man, his full-plate armor was made of greenish metal that seemed to glow faintly. He wielded a huge tower shield on his left arm, and his right hand gripped a massive bastard sword. His face was hidden behind a helmet, so I couldn’t gauge his expression, but I could tell he was ready for anything.

Then there was Ilin’dar, the shortest of them all. Still taller than me, though. She wore simple leather armor, but it was sleek and efficient, with a scarf wrapped around her neck that concealed her lower face. Despite the gear, she looked like someone who could disappear in an instant. She gave me a friendly wave. I waved back, smiling awkwardly.

"We’re from Verendil, a fourth-realm world," Sylvan added, looking at me kindly.

The mention of a fourth realm made me freeze. My stomach churned at the thought of realms beyond my own, and the idea of these elves being from one made everything more real, more intimidating.

"Nice to meet you all. Still Alex here, from Earth... third realm," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though I could feel the weight of their stares.

The reactions were varied, exaggerated in a way I hadn’t expected.

Bel’vorgar and Joro’gar tensed, their expressions hardening. Sylvan gasped audibly, her eyes widening. Ilin’dar broke into a grin, clapping her hands enthusiastically. But the strangest reaction came from Thal’gar—the healer. He made a sign with his fingers, a figure-eight motion, and then started looking at me with what I could only describe as reverence.

"You're an ascendant?" Bel’vorgar asked, his voice tight with barely controlled emotion.

"Yeah, I got the title," I replied, trying to keep it casual.

He scowled even deeper, his grip on the bow tightening. "Are you just another freeloader, taking double the energy that we take for doing the same exact thing most of us do?"

I blinked, confused. "You’re talking about the two attribute points?"

That seemed to really set him off. His arrow was practically trembling, and for a second, I thought he might let it fly.

"You’re even ignorant about the blessing you’ve been bestowed!" he spat. "Do you know how many beings are more deserving of those benefits? You’re a backwater bumpkin with no idea how vast the universe is!"

I wasn’t the type of person to stand up for myself, but something about the way he talked down to me grated on my nerves. Maybe it was the newfound confidence from my strength , maybe it was just him. I wasn’t sure. But I found myself speaking up.

"Listen, asshole, you have no idea about me or my life. So why don’t you shove your assumptions up your ass?"

At that, Joro’gar moved between us, adjusting his shield, his stance ready to deflect anything. I instinctively moved my spear into position, preparing to defend myself if needed. My mind raced.

The healer would have to be the first to fall, then the ranged fighters.

But before anything could escalate, Sylvan whispered to Bel’vorgar, pointing at me and then at Thal’gar, who was glaring at the archer with a strange intensity.

She turned to me, her tone shifting. "Look, I’m sorry, Alex. As I’m sure you know, There’s a bit of controversy surrounding ascendants. We’re not looking for a fight. We’re just here to collect cores and go home."

I didn’t want to escalate things any further, so I waved my hands dismissively. "No worries. It was just a misunderstanding. I’ll leave you to it, then."

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The tension was still thick, but before I could take a few steps back, tried to make it as casual as possible but I wasn’t really fooling anyone, you can’t make walking backwards casual,Thal’gar called out to me.

"You should join us!"

Bel’vorgar’s expression turned into a growl, but Sylvan cut in before he could speak.

"That’s a wonderful idea, Thal! I swear on my honor that we won’t harm you, isn’t that right, Bel?"

The leader didn’t look pleased but reluctantly nodded.

"Yeah, no thanks. Maybe next time," I replied, unsure what to think.

But before I could turn away, Thal’gar rushed up to me, desperation in his eyes. He grabbed my hands, holding them gently but tightly.

"Please! I’ve never met a prophet of the system before! You have to join us!"

He looked at Joro’gar, The warrior sighed from behind his helmet. "I swear on my honor that I won’t harm you."

Ilin’dar grinned at me, giving me a thumbs up. My decision weighed heavily in my mind. Velarion had told me not to trust anyone , but a fresh perspective from these elves didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Maybe I could learn something useful.

"Okay, sounds good."

With that, they set off, and I followed cautiously, staying near the back of the group. Ilin’dar dashed ahead, moving like a shadow, her footsteps silent as she moved from corpse to corpse, collecting loot from the amalgamations.

That’s when it hit me—she had a looting skill. I had to learn that.

She handed the glowing marbles of collected cores to Bel’vorgar, who gave her a curt nod. Sylvan looked at me with a smile.

"Later," she said, then disappeared ahead.

I was starting to get the hang of this group dynamic, but as we continued, Thal’gar couldn’t stop asking questions. He was fascinated by my ascendant title, and I was too polite to ignore him. He leaned in, eager to learn anything I could share.

"So, when did you ascend?" he asked, his voice tinged with reverence.

I didn’t want to lie to him—not out of some deep moral conviction, mind you, but because the guy looked like the type who’d know I was full of it before I even finished my sentence. Lying to him felt less like deception and more like auditioning for public humiliation.

I told him a bit about my experience, mentioning Velarion but keeping most of it vague.

"Talking with a guardian..." Thal’gar whispered, his eyes shining with awe. "You ascendants are so lucky…"

“So, where are you all from?” I asked, leaning in slightly to show interest.

“A beautiful planet called Verendil,” the healer responded with a smile. “We’re from different parts of a kingdom called Eryndor, but we all live in the capital now, ever since we formed our party.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Quick question—’dar’ and ’gar’ are used to differentiate between males and females, right?, but why is your leader called Bel’vorgar?”

The healer blinked in surprise, then chuckled softly. “Are we the first elves you’ve met? Bel’vorgar comes from a noble family.”

He lowered his voice, leaning closer as if to share a secret. “A small noble family, mind you…”

“So, Ilin’dar has a looting skill, huh?” I asked casually, testing the waters.

“Yeah,” the healer replied with a proud grin. “The skill book was ridiculously expensive, but we figured it was smarter than just buying the cores outright.”

“That’s... clever.” I kept my response as vague as possible. The healer clearly enjoyed chatting, and I didn’t want to interrupt her flow. This was shaping up to be a perfect opportunity to gather information without raising suspicion.

Sylvan joined in the conversation, her perceptive eyes narrowing just slightly as if she could tell I was holding something back. I had to be careful with my words now, but I played it cool. I wasn’t about to tell them everything—not yet.

As we moved forward, the conversation continued. The dynamic between them was fascinating. Joro’gar was quiet but dependable. Sylvan was the glue that kept them all together, while Bel’vorgar seemed constantly on edge, like he was expecting the worst.

We continued through the city, and just as we were about to head into another fight, Ilin’dar’s voice rang out.

"Ten amalgamations ahead, a plaza about 600 planks away. I’ve cleared the therrans."

"Good job," Bel’vorgar said curtly, giving a sharp nod.

I couldn’t help myself. "Planks?"

"A plank is about this long." She held her hands about a foot apart. “What do you use on your planet?”

I raised an eyebrow. "A foot or a meter,it depends on the place, a foot is weirdly around a plank where I come from."

"Who’s foot?" she asked, tilting her head.

"What? No, I mean… never mind " I stammered “like plank makes more sense “

She laughed “fair enough “

Bel’vorgar cut through the banter. "Same as usual. Joro, take the front. Sylvie and I will attack when they’re in range. Ilin, guard Thal. Human… try not to get in the way."

With that, the tension shifted back to the battlefield, and we moved toward the plaza. This time, I wasn’t sure what would happen next, but at least I had allies—if they were truly allies—by my side.

Their attitudes shifted in an instant. Joro’gar took the lead, his massive shield raised and bastard sword at the ready. Every movement was deliberate, methodical, like he had rehearsed this scenario a hundred times before.

Bel’vorgar followed a few paces behind him, his green, living bow ready to fire. His icy eyes constantly scanned for danger, his focus unbroken. The tension in his stance suggested he was prepared to respond to any threat in the blink of an eye.

Sylvan’dar kept a calculated distance from the group, her elegant blue robes swaying slightly as she flexed her fingers. Sparks of magic flickered between her hands like tiny bolts of lightning, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice.

Ilin’dar and Thal’gar flanked me. Ilin’s normally easygoing demeanor was replaced by cold professionalism, her hand resting on the hilt of her short blade as her sharp gaze darted around the ruins. Thal’gar walked with measured steps, his eyes alternating between me and the rest of the group. Their silent communication—the subtle glances and precise positioning—was seamless. Their teamwork was a honed weapon, and I felt like an intruder in its midst.

We entered the plaza through a crumbling section of a building, its walls fractured and its ceiling open to the sky. The amalgamations were scattered across the plaza, their grotesque forms moving with unnerving unpredictability.

Joro’gar moved quickly, positioning himself between two large chunks of debris to create a bottleneck. Bel’vorgar and Sylvan’dar climbed onto the remains of a crumbling staircase, taking vantage points above the fray. The healer, Thal’gar, held back in a safer position, with Ilin’dar guarding his flank. Their formation was flawless, a product of countless battles fought together.

As a mid-to-close-range fighter, I positioned myself to the right of Joro’gar. I gripped my spear tightly, heart pounding as I prepared for what was to come.

Bel’vorgar acted first. His green bow hummed with life as he fired an arrow at the nearest amalgamation. The projectile struck true, sinking into the creature’s warped flesh. The other monstrosities let out a bone-chilling, hellish scream that rattled my nerves and sent a shiver down my spine. They began hurling fleshy projectiles in response, but we were still out of range.

Bel’vorgar didn’t falter. His arrows flew with unrelenting precision, each shot finding its mark. The first amalgamation crumbled under his assault, and without missing a beat, he moved to the next target. Two more fell in quick succession before Sylvan’dar joined the fray. She extended her hands, unleashing fiery blasts that engulfed another creature.

The monsters’ screams as they burned alive would haunt me for a long time, but I’d have to add that to my growing pile of mental scars.

Only five amalgamations made it through the onslaught. With Joro’gar holding the line, I knew it was my turn to contribute. I dashed from behind him, putting myself directly in the monsters' path. My heart pounded as I baited the lead creature, scattering smaller spikes along its path to slow its progress. When it got too close, I created a massive spike from the ground. The sharpened spire pierced through the creature’s body, pinning it in place. The amalgamation writhed, its corrupted flesh tearing and oozing, but it couldn’t move.

The others behind it became bottlenecked, stuck in the narrow gap between two pieces of debris.

"They’re sitting ducks!" I called out.

It only took moments for the ranged fighters to finish them off, their attacks swift and merciless. As the last amalgamation crumbled to the ground, I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

I turned to the group, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. "You guys work so well together! That was beautifully done."

Ilin’dar grinned as she wiped her blade clean. "You weren’t half bad yourself," she said, before tilting her head. "But... why is your aura untuned?"

I blinked, trying to mask my confusion. "Uh… it’s complicated."

Before I could flounder any further, Sylvan’dar stepped in, resting a hand on Ilin’s shoulder. "Don’t be rude, Ilin. I’m sure he has his reasons."

Her tone was calm, but her piercing gaze made me feel like she could see straight through me. I played it off, nodding vaguely while pretending I understood what they were talking about.

Bel’vorgar’s sharp voice cut through the moment. "Ilin, the corpses are disintegrating."

Ilin snapped to attention and dashed back toward the plaza to retrieve the glowing cores from the fallen creatures. The air around us grew quiet once more, but the tension lingered.

Their teamwork had been awe-inspiring, and I couldn’t help but feel out of place amidst their synchronized perfection. But I’d survived, and for now, that was enough.