Pinaka frowned. His eyes flicked to the Status Screen glowing before him, its dim green light cutting through the darkness.

Then—

"Don’t!”

The whisper slithered through the silence, sharp with panic.

Pinaka reacted instantly, willing the screen away. Darkness swallowed his cell once more.

He exhaled slowly, his pulse pounding in his ears.

'There’s no one to operate the door.'

He had walked inside willingly. Nothing could stop him from walking out, and it was the same for everyone.

Yet, no one was moving. No one even spoke of it.

‘Why?’

His gaze slid to the stone wall separating him from Mahnaka. ‘The moment I brought out my Status Window, he panicked.’

Shaking his head, Pinaka observed the prison cell.

Cold, unyielding stone surrounded him, its rough texture like unpolished granite.

Three meters long. One meter wide. Just enough space to lie down, nothing more. The ceiling stretched high—far enough to taunt him with the illusion of space, yet still a cage of stone.

The steel door loomed before him, its lock operated by a ladle system embedded in the wall—just out of reach, ensuring prisoners had no control. The design was familiar—something from Earth’s preindustrial prisons. But unlike those, this one had a glaring flaw.

'There are no guards.'

His brow furrowed. ‘That soldier who checked my Status Screen. The whip bastard. They were the only ones he’d seen. Too few humans. Too many prisoners.’

'Why?'

His thoughts flickered back—to the two maids who scrubbed him raw, the ones who dragged him here, and finally, the oily middle-aged bastard who severed his thumbs like it was routine.

Too few humans. And yet, they had complete control.

'Wood, fire…'

Every Elf had authority over Wood. If that were true, revolt should have been easy. Breaking free should have been a matter of will.

'Then why hadn’t anyone tried?'

His gaze slid to the stone wall separating him from Mahnaka.

'The moment I brought out my Status Window, he panicked.'

He let out a slow breath and shut his eyes. Memories from Earth surfaced. His family. Their faces, their voices, their laughter—all so vivid.

Except their names.

His fists clenched.

‘What kind of sick setup is this?’

He felt burning anger and a wildfire of confusion.

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The cells also grew colder, causing his body to shiver gradually.

‘Do I have to spend every night like this?’

Then, he stared at his body, finally realizing what had been amiss all along, ‘My clothes! I’ve been naked all along!’

He then understood that despite hailing from Earth as a human, there had been a slight shift in his common sense and values. Moving about naked would have bothered him on Earth, but here, it felt natural—too natural.

And when he lowered his gaze further, he observed something even more puzzling as he stared at his groin and found…nothing.

“It’s not…there,” He muttered, flustered for a moment when a snicker leaked out from the cell on the left.

“The youngest noticed it pretty soon,” The voice was snarky, carrying weight to it, unlike the other Elves he had heard until now.

“We don’t have it, kid.” The voice continued, utterly unbothered, “Elves don’t have reproductive organs.”

A pause. Then, with a hint of wry amusement—

“We’re plants that can walk around.”

“What do you mean by that?” Pinaka asked and instinctively trained his ear to the right, hoping to see what Mahnaka would say in response. However, Mahnaka remained silent while the snarky voice responded.

“The soldier has left, Mahnaka. You can stop cowering now.”

“…He's right, Pinaka.” A defeated voice resounded from the cell on the right as Pinaka heard Mahnaka speak, “Elves aren’t male or female. We don’t reproduce. We’re spawned by the World Tree.”

"Answering your earlier question," Mahnaka sighed, "the soldier sniffed us to check if we’d eaten in secret."

Pinaka frowned. Sniffed?

"Unlike Humans, our excretory and perspiration systems are one."

The snarky voice cut in. "Our sweat is our shit."

“We live on plant-based food, and our bodies digest it with near-perfect efficiency. We don’t need to excrete solids—waste is expelled through sweat." Mahnaka didn’t mind the snarky voice and explained honestly, "Our sweat has a fruity scent when we’ve eaten. That’s how the soldiers know. If we sneak food while working, they’ll smell it on us."

"They only let us eat at night, in our cells, after curfew," Mahnaka added. "It’s how they control our intake."

The snarky voice scoffed. "They don’t want us getting stronger. If we bulk up, we might try to break out."

“Humans don’t fear us, Zetaka.” Mahnaka said, “I witnessed them burning our Elf King to ashes. No matter how strong we become, Wood cannot overcome Fire.”

There was a tense pause. Then Zetaka’s voice sharpened. "Speaking from experience, Mahnaka? You failed once, so what? Don’t dump your fears on me."

Mahnaka inhaled shakily. "...It wasn’t just once or twice. I tried eight times."

Silence hung heavy between them.

Pinaka closed his eyes, shutting out the muffled cries from Mahnaka’s cell. He focused his hearing, tuning into the fragmented whispers between other captives. Patterns emerged.

Newborns like me are desperate to escape. The older ones, like Mahnaka, have given up.

A memory surfaced.

“Dad, I’m pregnant,” his daughter announced over dinner, squeezing her husband’s hand. “You’re going to be a grandpa!”

“…Really?”

A man in his late fifties froze. Then, laughter burst from his chest, unrestrained and full of warmth. “Hahaha!”

He shot up from his seat, pulling his daughter and son-in-law into a tight embrace. “That’s… that’s the second-best news I’ve ever heard.”

The first is obviously when your mother gave birth to you.

His gaze flickered to the framed photo of his late wife. ‘We've been through so much, Dear. But we made it. We’re finally happy.’

The next instant he was back to preset as Pinaka’s eyes shot open fiercely and glared at the ceiling of his cell, clutching his head in pain, ‘I can’t remember past that point. Everything was finally on the right track, and then you say I died? Just like that?’

‘When I was FINALLY HAPPY?’ His expression grew fierce, ‘In a few more months, I would have met my grandchild! What kind of sick joke is this?’

“I’m returning home, no matter what.” He muttered and clutched the steel rods forming his cell’s door, making his mind soon after as he walked out, observing his surroundings brimming with darkness, felt around the wall, and entered Mahnaka’s cell.

“Please help me, Mahnaka.” His voice was fierce but respectful, “I don’t have time to rot in a fucking prison.”

He met Mahnaka’s hazy breaths and spoke the words that would decide everything.

“Teach me everything related to our Authority.”

…

Gangnea Daily Article 4:

The Human Race’s history spans over 8000 years in Gangnea and was fully witnessed by the last Elf King.