Back when he witnessed the merciless fangs and deadly claws of the wolves rip apart his friends, his mind shattered as his heart slowly fell into despair.

It was as though a thick fog had suddenly entered his mind, making it difficult to think.

He had never been good at using his head, so he gradually stopped thinking. He started to move according to his instincts, placing himself in danger time and again, seeking death on the battlefield.

Each time the faces of his friends or family showed up in his mind, he would always ask them, “Why did you leave me behind?” in a sorrowful voice, as the guilt for being the only one left pierced him in the heart.

The bravery the other elves saw in him was, in truth, merely the reckless charge of a pitiful soul hoping for each battle to be his last. Yet, time and again he charged in thinking that it would finally be over, only to come out on top.

Ironically, abandoning his thoughts had allowed his instincts to sharpen instead, allowing his talent in physical combat to blossom. Thus, the legacy of the “The Silent Killer” was born, as he repeatedly achieved incredible results in battle while seeking death.

This time though, it was different. When he received the notice from the council on being sent to retake the fourth village, light had returned to Polon’s eyes.

His mind had cleared up for the first time since the incident. The sides of his lips curled up, but his eyes were weeping, displaying the complicated emotions he had as he firmly decided, “This time for sure.”, while staring in the direction of the village.

Hence, he was extremely calm today, revealing a composed side of him that he hadn’t shown in the past four years as he stood before the group.

Blain and Lein noticed this difference in Polon and mistook it for a positive change, revealing looks of relief while thinking that it was indeed the right decision to bring him along, not knowing the full extent of the darkness in his heart.

After the three elves saluted the group, they then set off towards the direction of the fourth village, preparing to reclaim the territory of the fourth village.

Alz moved through the forest at a steady pace, with no signs of hesitation in his steps. After all, he had already taken this trail far too many times to lose his way.

His expression was relaxed, as if he was just taking a walk in the garden of his home, and not in a wolf infested forest where attacks could come at any time.

Of course, he had reasons for his confidence as his experience in the forest now was vastly superior to back then, along with his equipment.

Alz’s equipment had greatly improved from that of five years ago. Back then, he used to sling his leather bag on his back, wearing his dagger on one side and his bow and quiver on the other.

During the past five years, he focused heavily on his equipment, going to great lengths to improve them finally arriving at his current gear.

He now wore two crossbows and two quivers at his waist, along with a dagger on each side. Each crossbow was mounted with a full cartridge of five arrows and there were fifteen arrows in each quiver, adding up to a total of 40 arrows on him.

These crossbows were naturally weapons which he had constructed based on designs found in the archives. Each of the crossbows had a magazine attached which could be loaded with up to five shots as too many would have made the magazine too bulky for Alz’s liking.

On the quiver by his left, there were five marked arrows with pale green arrowheads that were distinctly different from the rest. These were the products of months of hard work and a whole lot of charcoal, glass arrows.

However, Alz did not make too many of this despite its greater penetrative power as it took far too much effort to make and was far too brittle to reuse most of the time.

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

He had also replaced his fang dagger with a stone dagger which had a flat blade about 18cm long and extremely sharp edges, far sharper than the stone weapons back in the tribe.

Hatchlings were initially issued fang daggers because they were lightweight, easy to handle, cheap to produce and sufficient for most purposes as it wasn’t designed for combat.

In fact, it had served him extremely well during the two years he spent in the village. Despite this, in the recent years, he had found himself needing a sharper dagger for his research and proceeded to make this.

As he had already read up on improving his arrowheads then, it had not been difficult for him to craft this dagger which he had been using ever since.

The other dagger on his right side was a wooden dagger with multiple glass shards attached to it. He had initially made this as an experiment from the small leftover glass shards from preparing the arrowheads but had never once used it apart from when he first tested its sharpness.

He had been surprised by its sharpness and decided to keep it with him, but he was not planning on using it unless absolutely necessary as he knew how brittle glass was from his tests with the arrowheads.

On his back, he carried a leather rucksack with multiple compartments, secured with leather strings. Within it, there was some smoked wolf meat he prepared just yesterday, pieces of charcoal, his leather water bag, the photography book and a few thin books he made using the paper he made himself, fastened with wooden threads.

One of the books was filled entirely with elven script, written in black using charcoal. This was a book where Alz had recorded findings which would be useful to the tribe and was planning on presenting it to the council when he returned, before leaving on his adventure.

Suddenly, Alz heard rustling coming from his sides. He stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes, focusing his attention on his ears.

“Two…no, three”, Alz mumbled in a voice audible only to himself as he drew a crossbow from his waist and pulled back on the cocking mechanism, preparing it to fire.

After this, he turned his body to face his left, standing in a combat posture with his right finger on the trigger. Before long, a wolf appeared from behind him.

It noticed that Alz was looking in the direction of its companions and stealthily crept up behind him, trying to get in range for a pounce.

After several seconds, it finally got in range, ready for a pounce but it was slightly confused as its comrades were supposed to have reached before it yet they were nowhere to be seen. However, there was no reason to let up this golden opportunity before it as it pounced straight at Alz’s back.

Just then, right as its feet left the ground, Alz suddenly turned with a fierce expression on his face, pointing his crossbow at the wolf and firing it immediately.

The wolf was naturally shocked by his reaction, but it was in the air and even attempt to avoid as it tried to use its claws and fangs to block the arrow. However, it was all for naught as the arrow pierced straight through its skull before it could block, killing it instantly.

Alz walked over and loaded the arrow back into the magazine before turning and proceeding to the the opposite side where soft whimpers could be heard.

He soon arrived before a pit of sand, looking coldly at the two wolves which were struggling to escape but slowly sinking lower. This was a quicksand trap that he had previously set up, one of the many traps that lay in this area.

This was the true reason behind the confidence he had shown on this trip, the many traps he had laid along the trail.

He had long since been preparing to make this trip back to the fourth village, so he had made sure to give ‘special attention’ to this trail and consistently set up traps on the way each time he went to the fourth village for scouting.

Eventually, this led to the trail becoming one of the safest place for Alz in the forest, second only to the area beside his forest workshop, which was so filled with traps that even Alz himself did not dare approach the area carelessly.

He saw that the two wolves showed no signs of escaping and turned to leave, not bothering to kill them as it would be troublesome to retrieve the arrows after and he was confident in the trap.

As he approached the fourth village, he encountered several more wolves along the way, but they were all either alone or in pairs, so he made quick work out of them and soon arrived before the torn down fence of the fourth village.

Along the trail, he felt his heart getting heavier as it always did each time he came, but this time, it felt heavier than before, maybe because he was still affected by the melancholy of leaving the archives, or maybe because he had never came this close the previous times.

He looked at the fence that lay on the floor and took a deep breath before crossing beyond the broken fence, walking back to where his parents fell, for the first time in nearly five years.

His mood slowly worsened as he saw the destruction along the way. He started to feel anger towards the wolves and his powerless self, along with a strong sense of loss as he recalled the village before the attack.

Soon, he reached the place between his home and the lake, where he last saw his parents. He stared blankly at the bones that were scattered around the area and fell to his knees while tears started dripping from his eyes.

And so he cried, louder than he ever had, the loudest he had ever cried in his life.