Ren glanced at Aisen, then looked again at the forest ahead. He frowned. A clearing lay before them, hidden so well that if he hadn't paid close attention, he might have missed it completely, as if it had never existed.
And yet... there was nothing about it that resembled a "camp." No tents, no poles, nothing that a regular person might call a "place to live."
It was just... forest. Forest, and a bit of cold wind threading through the branches.
Ren turned to Aisen again, his eyes carrying a silent accusation, like he was blaming the man for being a terrible tour guide on a forced trip, with no rest stops, no map, and certainly no buffet.
Aisen chuckled softly.
"We're Dark Elves. If the enemy could see our camp, then we wouldn't be very 'Dark,' would we?"
Ren sighed, eyes fixed on the greenish clearing ahead. "I'm starting to regret following you..."
Aisen kept smiling, but this time, it was a proud smile, like someone showing off a rare toy no one else had seen.
"Don't worry. We don't build camps like humans do. But if you look more carefully, you'll start to notice something different."
Ren clicked his tongue and squinted. Pale light filtered through the tall canopy, casting an interwoven mosaic of light and shadow. As his eyes adjusted, everything seemed to... shift.
Between ancient trees, their trunks coated in moss from root to crown, he saw... movement.
A shadow flickered past. Then a warped shape, woven from leaves and vines. Then another person, possibly a guard, standing perfectly still, almost indistinguishable from the bark behind him.
Slowly, like an ink painting surfacing from water, the entire area began to reveal itself.
A camp, an actual camp, with temporary tents and high wooden walls rising above head-height.
A camp camouflaged perfectly by the forest itself.
Ren shivered slightly. He was no longer sure whether he was walking into a safe haven... or a trap woven through generations of patient warriors.
"Nothing to be surprised about," Aisen said, voice lowered, eyes still on the forest ahead. "Our camp is veiled by magic."
Ren stopped. "Magic?" He frowned, unable to hide his doubt. "I thought this world didn't have that kind of system."
"Well..." Aisen nodded lightly, as if he'd expected that reaction. "That's... mostly true. We can't create new magic, and ordinary people can hardly sense what's left. What remains... are just remnants. A few ancient shards from a bygone age."
He lifted a vine to reveal a faint blue glow etched in a pattern beneath, which then flickered and vanished. "Veil magic is one of the few things that still work. But it doesn't belong to this age. It's the last fragment of something already lost."
Ren looked at the forest once more. The shapes that had once been murky were now clearer in his eyes, but not because he was seeing better. Rather... he had moved closer to a place where the disguise no longer wanted to hide.
"So... you survive off the scraps left behind?" he asked without thinking.
Aisen was silent for a moment. Then he smiled, this time, no longer proud, but tinged with regret.
"We are creatures who live in the dark. Both literally and metaphorically. And the last light we can still believe in... is what the world has long forgotten."
They walked forward, past massive tree trunks thick with moss and trailing vines, then followed a narrow stone path leading to the main gate. The area ahead was enclosed by a wall hastily built but sturdy—gray, coarse planks reinforced with rope and dark metal pegs. The air here was cold and quiet, even under the daylight.
As Aisen approached the gate, two Dark Elves in light armor made from dark leather turned sharply. One of them raised a spear, blocking the path, eyes narrowing on Ren.
"Stop. Outsiders are not allowed to carry weapons without permission."
Ren halted instantly. His sharp gaze flicked across the guard, from the hooded cloak to the hand gripping the spear.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he lightly gripped the hilt of his sword.
Aisen squinted, watching the scene like someone enjoying a play they'd seen before.
"Hold on, easy now. He's not an uninvited guest," Aisen said, folding his arms, a confident smirk on his lips. "He's here by special invitation. Personally escorted by me. Let's call him... a VIP guest."
"No exceptions," one guard replied coldly. "Anyone entering the camp must surrender their weapons."
Ren kept his hand on his sword hilt, eyes locked on the guard. "If I do that, how am I supposed to defend myself?"
Aisen chuckled. "You're inside our camp and worried about self-defense? Trust me, if we meant you harm, you wouldn't even see the gate."
The guard scowled. "Weapons."
"Come on now, come on," Aisen interrupted, stepping forward with a tone half-joking, half-placating. "Let me hold on to it. If he causes trouble, I'll personally toss him out myself."
Ren glanced at Aisen. "Are you sure?"
"Do I look like someone who's ever sure about anything?" Aisen winked, then held out his hand. "But... trust me, just this once."
Ren hesitated for a second, then removed the sword strapped to his waist. He handed it to Aisen, a firm motion, though his eyes never left the two guards.
Aisen took it and turned to the guards with a smile, as if everything was settled.
"See? Peace, order, and a beautiful sword. Now, are you going to let us in?"
After a brief pause, the guard finally stepped aside, though his voice remained gruff:
"Just remember, if anything happens… you take full responsibility, Aisen."
Aisen raised his hand to his forehead in an exaggerated soldier's salute, playing up the theatrics.
"Yes, sir, my honorable captain. I take full responsibility if he… starts dancing naked in the middle of the camp."
The guard finally let out a faint chuckle, shoulders relaxing a bit. He looked at Aisen and said, with a touch of humor in his voice:
"Technically, I outrank you…"
"Oh? You actually know that?" Aisen widened his eyes in mock surprise, then shot a glance at Ren. "Then why have you been blocking this kid like I don't exist?"
"It's the rule," the guard shrugged, trying to stay composed, though the corners of his mouth still twitched slightly.
Aisen sighed, "There it is again, the standard answer... So tell me, why didn't the two humans traveling with Knight Kizmel a few days ago have to hand over anything, hmm?"
"Because she's a Royal Knight, and those two humans are currently considered trustworthy," the guard replied flatly, as if that were simply fact.
Aisen paused mid-step, eyes narrowing slightly.
"What about me? Where do I rank in this hierarchy of privilege?"
The guard glanced sideways. "You've got privileges too… just lower than hers."
"…You little..." Aisen muttered, gripping Ren's sword hilt like he was holding back. "I'm remembering your face."
"I hope so," the guard said, winking meaningfully before standing upright again, returning to his post as if nothing had happened.
Aisen muttered something in Old Elvish, probably not very polite, then led Ren onward.
Ren exhaled lightly, shook his head, eyes still fixed on Aisen's back. "The more this goes on, the more I feel like following you was a mistake."
"Too late," Aisen laughed, shrugging without looking back. "You're already in our nest, Ren. Might as well accept your fate."
Then he half-turned his head, walking as he made a dramatic sweeping gesture in the air like he was presenting a theater stage.
"Welcome to the Dark Elf base. Breathe deep, don't blink, and remember three things: keep your head low, your eyes high, and your mouth shut."
Ren smirked. "Do you always greet guests like that?"
"Nope," Aisen glanced back, winking mischievously. "With sweet-looking kids like you, I'm actually holding back."
Ren didn't respond, he just sighed again, silently wondering what exactly he'd gotten himself into.
"Alright, let's go," Aisen said, shifting to a lazy, half-grumbling tone. "I'll take you to meet the commander… that stiff old man… Always in armor like he's expecting war."
Ren muttered, "Sounds fun…"
Aisen looked over his shoulder, grinning wide. "Don't worry, he doesn't bite. But if he did, me...the lowly captain of the scouting squad, wouldn't be able to help you at all."
Then Aisen led Ren toward a large tent situated at the center of the camp.
Though the exterior wasn't anything special, just weathered canvas, wooden poles, and rope lashed together, Ren's eyes were immediately drawn to the flag hanging out front.
A long strip of dark blue-green cloth, silver-trimmed, with an embroidered image in the center: a longsword and a laurel branch crossed.
The flag fluttered gently in the late-afternoon breeze, almost silent, yet radiating a quiet solemnity.
"…That's the flag of the Kingdom of Lyusula," Aisen said, as if reading the look in Ren's eyes.
Ren gave a slight nod. He said nothing.
"Come on," Aisen tucked his hands into his belt and pushed aside the tent flap, "Just bow a little, and try not to freeze under his gaze."
Ren followed Aisen into the tent.