A stunned silence fell over the group. The two chained humans exchanged uncertain glances. Meanwhile, the elves tensed—Estand’s sneer faltered, Deratus’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, and the archer stiffened, his hand hovering near his bow but not yet drawing it.

Deratus reached behind his back, gripping the handle of his axe as he eyed John warily.

The younger elf, in stark contrast, carried himself with casual arrogance as his gaze locked onto John, a sneer of disdain twisting his features.

"You! Did you do this to my property? No... That can't be right. You look like just another fresh Tutorial monkey. You're far too weak."

With a fluid motion, he drew his sword. A faint sheen of mana emerged to coat the weapon as it slid free. A large ruby was embedded in the pommel, and smaller jewels encrusted the guard and hilt. The elf took an elaborate stance, as if preparing for a performance rather than a fight.

The older elf, Deratus, studied John carefully. He took note of the unnatural calm in his posture, and the way his fingers rested lightly on his sword hilt - relaxed yet ready. His instincts screamed danger. He stepped forward, speaking with measured urgency.

"Young Master Estand, leave this one to me."

Estand didn't even glance at him. "No need, Deratus. I will be the one to teach this creature a lesson. Look at the arrogance in his eyes, it makes me want to pluck them out. But alas, blind slaves are of little use to my father. " said the younger elf, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

"Young Master, I urge you to reconsider. He is not worth dirtying your hands." cautioned Deratus, his expression tightening.

But the younger elf, oblivious to the warning in his bodyguard’s tone, was already preparing to strike. Deratus drew his axe, and silently motioned to the third elf with the bow - Thalorien was his name. He nodded in response. He had already anticipated what was coming and his bow was drawn, an arrow knocked.

John registered all of this—the rising tension, the shifting stances as weapons were readied —but his gaze remained locked on the elf in front of him. He steadied his breath, drawing more mana into his grip, ready for what came next. John had never killed an elf before. Or anything that could speak, for that matter. He took one last glance at the chained humans.

Perhaps he would have to start getting used to it.

Estand rushed forward, his sword raised high before bringing it down in a spinning, theatrical strike. At the same moment, the archer drew back his bow and aimed, ready to loose, while Deratus sent mana to his legs, ready to dash forward to aid his master at a moment's notice.

As Estand's blade descended, John moved.

A brilliant flash of light lit up the forest as he unsheathed his sword with blinding speed, overwhelming the onlookers. Caught off guard, the archer loosed his arrow - only for it to sail harmlessly over John's shoulder. Deratus instinctively stepped forward but was left squinting against the momentary flash of light, unable to make out what had transpired.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

As the light faded, a series of dull thuds were heard, along with a heavy impact of something hitting the ground. As his vision cleared, Deratus' breath caught in his throat. His master lay before him - cleaved diagonally in two, from one hip to the opposite shoulder.

His heart sank, and his blood ran cold. His eyes moved back to John, chills running down his neck as he watched him calmly sheathe his sword again.

His attack had been so fast. Was it a Rare ability? He didn’t dare to think it could be Epic. And that bright flash of light that had come and gone. Was it some kind of Aspect? He had never seen anything like it.

But he had more alarming concerns. The young master was dead, and the High Lord—his father—would be furious. Deratus had been entrusted with his protection, and he knew the weight of his failure. He would be executed for this. His mind raced.

He could think of only one way to survive.

He must bring the killer back in chains. Perhaps if the High Lord was given an opportunity to vent his anger on the culprit, he would show mercy to Deratus. Yet he knew he couldn’t take this opponent lightly.

He looked at Thalorien, and with a silent nod, they shared an unspoken agreement. The elf abandoned the chained humans - they wouldn’t get very far - and moved swiftly, circling around to get a better angle on their target.

Meanwhile, John examined his opponent, recognising him as the biggest threat. As he focused on him, some text appeared above him.

Dark Elf - Level ??

He looked over at the elf he had killed, and focused on him in the same way.

Dark Elf - Level 12

Then he glanced at the one with the bow who was circling around him.

Dark Elf - Level 16

Why had the System hidden that elf’s level? Deratus—that was his name, based on the conversation with the one John had just killed. If his gaming experience had taught him anything, that usually signified a massive level gap. Was Deratus more than ten levels above him? Or twenty?

Or perhaps a hundred?

John had a feeling the difference in strength wasn’t that drastic. Perhaps he was getting cocky, but as he watched his opponent and felt his mana, he had the feeling that he was facing a very strong opponent - but not an impossible one.

Perception +1

Perhaps that was the System telling him he was correct. His light-tinted mana surged, coursing through his body and strengthening his limbs in anticipation of the coming fight.

He channeled mana into his grip, steadying his hold on the hilt of his Gladius, refining his energy for the next Flash Draw. His opponent was far stronger, and a prolonged fight was a risk he couldn’t take - John knew holding back would be foolish.

He observed both of his opponents, devoting half of his awareness to the archer. The elf had circled behind him, but turning to face him meant turning his back on Deratus. He had heard the archer draw his bow earlier, his only hope was that he would hear it again when the arrow was loosed. He mentally prepared himself to evade the incoming arrow.

Deratus tightened the grip on his axe, and he suddenly lunged forward - almost faster than John could react - but his improved senses saved him.

He mobilised his mana, drawing his blade rapidly.

Flash Draw

Just as John's sword was leaving its sheath, Deratus suddenly stopped short - breaking his momentum as he leaped backwards.

A bright flash of light split the night, fading away a moment later to reveal Deratus - completely unharmed, grinning.

John’s eyes narrowed. This was the first time his technique had failed him. As he was processing the situation, he heard the snap of a bowstring from behind him.