“I come in peace!” I ducked, dodging the arrow that wooshed past my hair.

I mean, it wasn't a surprise. I know I have a punchable face so people come to challenge me all the time— but this!? They are hell-bent on killing me!

Another arrow flew towards me, this time heading straight to my chest. I billowed my cloak like a dome, deflecting the projectiles as if they hit hard rock.

I blocked the rain of sticks and stones they threw at me, expertly waving my enchanted cloak with a graceful maneuver.

“Die! Soulmancer!” A young man’s voice roared behind me.

One of the arrows revealed itself to be an illusion. Its form morphed into a slim humanoid figure.

His skin was a smooth amber, and his eyes, a glowing emerald. His ears had a strange pointiness that curved upwards. If I were to guess, they're this world’s version of elves.

Many would say he resembles your typical loud protagonist if not for the douchey cowlick in his ash-blonde hair. If anything, it just screams ‘obnoxious self-righteous asshole.’

Especially with the way he smacked the thorn-wrapped club right at my pretty face.

“Here's payback!” He shouted, voice rasping with hate.

“What are you talking about!?”

“You took Tella!”

“WHO!?”

He swung his club aimlessly, putting his strength into the length of the club. I blocked his attacks easily. He scraped the thorns against my cloak in an attempt to snatch it. I followed through his pulls and delivered a sneaky kick to his stomach.

He raged harder. I could practically feel his sweat boiling as he kept striking. The more he swung, the easier it got to dodge him. His footwork was non-existent and every move he made was predictable.

I’m no swordsman as I’ve only received basic training, but even for a normal person, his footwork was irredeemable.

A random arrow flew past my face. I stumbled back, almost tripping over the arrows around my feet.

The young man recoiled his bat, a hesitant anger on his face. I stared at his eyes as if telling him not to kill me. I had hoped he would catch the signal and be finally willing to negotiate but…

He struck his club between my eyes.

Hmm. Blood. Can't say I deserved that. But what's painful isn't the prickly feeling left in my nose, it's the fact that I was being treated like a villain despite having done nothing. Somehow, the young man’s “good guy” attitude bruised my ego.

A few more brown elves emerged from their illusions.

They charged with a courageous spirit, their primitive weapons held high. Behind their surface-level bravery was a clear lack of experience. Tattered leather tunics, shoddy makeshift sticks, all the signs of a ragtag group of everyday people.

“Chaaarge!” “Death to The Kieran!” “Slay the Thorn Demon!”

Their harmonious battle cries rang inside my ear as another hit smashed my skull. My senses started to wane. The elves towered over me with cheers of triumph. Just when the spiky sticks started pummeling my body, the young man blocked their approach with his arms. “Wait! He’s not The Kieran!” he yelled.

It’s too late to realize that, idiot.

I fell to the ground.

I could hear them murmur and argue before eventually tying a rope around my ankles. They dragged me by the leg. My head bounced and scraped against the rough soil and grass.

My consciousness faded soon after.

I was never the type to mock the economically deprived— but this will be an exception.

For a moment, the image of the grand dining table returned. The scent of roasted chicken and fresh pastry lingered, almost mockingly. The spine-shilling smiles turned to laughter, preying on my fears.

It was cold. I never wanted to see it again.

I woke up to an unfamiliar ceiling— or rather inside a tree trunk. The hard, uneven makeshift bed, hewn from rough-hewn bark and vines, rocked with every small movement. Coarse, woody textures pressed against my back, encountering both jagged and smoother patches. It was so rough that even the floor could’ve served as a better resting place.

I searched the edge of the bed with my feet and immediately felt a splinter on my lower leg.

“Ow!”

These people don’t even how to treat guests.

My eyes adjusted to the dim sunlight. Wait… sunlight? Hmm… I must be near the treetops.

I stood up, enduring the aches and pains all over my body. The scorching ray of the sun sent harsh regards to my eyes as I hobbled over the tree hollow’s entrance. I half-expected the floor to creak as I walked, but I guess they couldn’t have fucked up the tree that bad.

I stepped out to the raggedy platform held by vines. The tree hollows have been repurposed as housing, each connected by a wobbly set of planks that barely resembled bridges. Judging from the large scratch marks, some beasts must have been infiltrating this village to steal food. If I wake up with a giant squirrel on my face, I’m leaving a 1-star review.

A couple of elven women and children peeked from the safety of their homes. I could feel their mix of fear and curiosity in seeing a stranger. It’s crazy how they’re able to survive in this hazardous construction work.

It would be stereotypical for elves to live in trees but it seemed that in this case, it’s to avoid the dangers on the forest floor.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

What could be so dangerous out there that they would close themselves off this much?

I could hear the clamor of arguing elves on the bottom of the tree.

“But what if it’s a disguise!?” “We don’t need his help!” “We should’ve just burned him…” “Send him to The Kieran!” “The Kieran only accepts women as a sacrifice!”

Their boisterous aggressive accents sounded more like dwarves than elves— if there are even dwarves in this world.

I hopped down the platform, landing from branch to branch. Thorns and sharp leaves scratched my cloak as I descended to the dim forest floor. The elves took a defensive stance as they saw me slide down a vine.

Many of them drew their weapons as I approached. As much as I hated the hostility, my egoistic side was telling me to enjoy the attention.

"Well, well, look who's awake," an old, scrawny elf sneered. "Still pretending to be a hapless victim, Thorn Demon?"

“I was called a demon of many titles. ‘Thorn’ isn’t one of them,” I smiled.

Another one of them waddled to my front, his face leaning closely to mine, simply staring. I could smell the stench of raw meat as he growled under his breath.

He was like a wild animal challenging another. I don’t despise the primitive but after thousands of years of development, you’d think these people will at least be more civil. Now, do I look calm and reasonable enough to respond appropriately? I’ll let future me decide that.

“Done with your discussion? For starters, as an apology, I’d like to be moved to a nicer room,” I sneered.

He pulled my shirt, almost lifting me off the ground. I could feel his fuzzy beard creeping up my face. “I’ll smash your head, Soulmancer!” he growled.

I whispered close to his ear with a smug, “You don’t want to mess with The Kieran, do you?”

I felt him flinch back as he released his grasp.

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a good idea to associate myself with the thing they were so afraid of. I did it solely to see their reaction, but it wasn’t a completely mindless decision. For a creature to strike so much fear into their hearts, it would be either something they know too well not to mess with or something they don’t know enough about that they’d avoid it.

I whispered once more, “Tell me, how much do you know about The Kieran? Has it killed any of you? Are you perhaps afraid that it may… eat you?”

I searched their faces for a clue. I could tell most of them hadn’t seen it personally, but whatever it was, it caused them to lose their loved ones. I could sense they recognized this Kieran as more intelligent than any other monster.

“Leave him. He’s no Kieran,” the young elf who had attacked me earlier pointed accusingly, his expression still filled with rage.

“Finally! Someone reasonable!” I exclaimed.

“You!” he shouted. “Tell me the truth, Soulmancer! Where did you take Tella!?”

I rolled my eyes. "Firstly, it's Valen, not Soulmancer. Second, I certainly haven't kidnapped a woman in my life."

“Lies! How do you explain the soul in this gem!?”

I looked down at my cloak that is now missing a circular sapphire. Strangely enough, someone also dried my clothes— but that doesn’t excuse this unfiltered hostility.

Though I doubt he'd do anything to the gem, but I suppose I could teach him a lesson. Anyone who shows no respect to strangers should be taken down a peg.

I rolled my sleeves and flashed a murderous glint from my eyes, cueing him to drop it or I attack.

“You don't scare me, demon! Now answer my question!” he yelled.

“Give it back, kid. You don't want more trouble than you already have.”

He foolishly recoiled, hiding the sapphire behind him. “It’s true, isn’t it? That you work for The Kieran?”

“Kieran, Kieran, Kieran, I don’t know a Kieran!”

“Then how are you able to wield souls!?”

“It’s called ‘20 years in med school’!”

He missed his chance.

I was wrong to hold back. When I first arrived in this world, I expected allies, but alas, you chose to be my enemies. Don’t blame me if I break a couple of bones.

Brother Valor had a move where he could close the distance in an instant, even when there was a chasm or a glass wall between him and the target. It was a terrifying technique that disregarded space and reality itself. Even so, it’s relatively simple to pull off.

I call it… PHANTOM STEP!!!

I pounced with all my might.

The other elves immediately took hold of me, clasping my back and feet. Even the old one’s almost skeletal figure was enough to completely anchor my legs. How does Valor do this!? I thought just jumping off the ground was enough!

I may have overestimated my strength.

“Let me at him! Let me at him!” I flailed my arms.

He pounced in response. To my surprise, the elves behind him stopped him as well.

“I’m not giving it back until you give me a reason to!” he yelled as he also struggled to escape their grasp.

“Just drop it you dumb twat!” I spat on his face.

“Kiss my ass, Vutnac!”

The other elves audibly gasped.

My translation ability couldn’t recognize that word, but my gut feeling told me that it was incredibly offensive and racist.

We continued to yell at each other, hurling insults and getting as close as we could so our spit could reach the other’s face while the others held us down. The elf proved to be a powerful adversary, landing saliva in my eye. This is no kink, ‘tis a serious bout between two grown men in the middle of a forest village with children and their parents watching from above.

I was about to win when a commanding presence appeared between us.

An elderly elven woman. Hair as white as the lightest of ash and as short as her head. Smooth warm amber skin and a pale viridescent eye that have witnessed history unfold, donning a thin pale fabric that highlighted her skinny contours. She held a stoic expression that could make anyone who looked at her stop and listen.

She closed her eyes and stomped her cane.

“Cease this juvenile display at once,” she declared, voice smooth as silk as she glared at both of us.

The elves who were restraining us let go and ran to her side as if clearing themselves of any involvement.

The young elf slammed his head on the ground. "E-Elder Elandria, this Soulmancer stole Tella! He has her soul trapped in a gem!"

“WHAT!? That’s my sister in that gem, you dumb fuck!”

Silence!” her voice boomed. “Both of you, follow.”

The two of us stood up, yielding to the very obvious leader of the village. I may be the court wizard of a renowned civilization but one thing I know not to mess with are femme fatale grandmas.

I can feel the painful stares of the young ones as their mothers cover their eyes and mark me as someone not to become like when they’re older. Back in Esparia, we call this ‘The Promenade of Poor Choices’ named by yours truly. It was meant to shame interdimensional criminals with fragile egos as a piece of entertainment (mostly for me) for the kingdom.

Just thinking about it made me giggle. It also made me look like a crazy person, further tarnishing my already atrocious reputation.

A group of elves, more muscular than the slipshod unit from earlier, surrounded us in a circle as we trailed behind the elder. She led us not to a hollow up a tree nor a grand town hall, but instead, into an unsuspecting cave beneath a tree stump.

The smell of fragrant wax and lit candles grew apparent as we stepped into a large fur carpet surrounding what looked to be a roundtable— much more well-constructed than the rest of the furniture in the village.

I looked over to the young elf beside me who kept his gaze down as if it hid the buckets of sweat dripping down his chin.

“Is she really that bad?” I whispered.

He stayed silent, refusing to even recognize I was talking to him.

The Elder sat on the far end, a group of maidens on each of her sides, bowing gently as they acknowledged our presence. It seemed to be a ceremony for formal discussions— like a business meeting but mystical and full of old ladies.

I was never particular about a person’s age seeing as I’m already 350, but I couldn’t help but notice the peculiar flow of their energy. Every elderly in the village was nearing the end of their life at only 200, while the younger ones looked as though they had at least a thousand more years to spare.

Could it be that something or someone was siphoning their lifespan?

If it was The Kieran they’ve been talking so much about, then it’s understandable why they would be so afraid of strangers.

“Sit,” she commanded.

We sat, almost immediately.

The Elder was unmoving as a rock. Her pale green eye stared into my soul almost assessing me.

The maidens beside her whispered to each other, discussing something out of my earshot.

Until finally… Elder Elandria broke the silence.

She looked me straight in the eye and asked,

“What is your purpose here, Otherworlder?”