Elahar walked quietly down the road. There was no mission for him today, and his steps naturally carried him toward the marketplace. He told himself it was just another part of daily life, yet he caught his eyes wandering, scanning the crowd as though searching for someone. When he realized he was hoping to catch sight of Eirina, a faint smile crossed his lips.
"So this is what I've become… To be so conscious of her presence."
But when he saw no trace of her, he caught himself feeling disappointed, and that unsettled him even more. Just then, one of the women he remembered seeing with Eirina before recognized him and called out.
"Oh my, aren't you Master Elahar? Eirina went to the farm this morning—why not drop by?"
Elahar's expression shifted subtly. He wondered why she had bothered to tell him this, yet before long he found himself walking toward the farm. When he realized the direction his feet had taken, he stopped.
"Why am I going there? …It's just on the way, nothing more."
But he did not turn back. Step by step, he advanced toward the farm where Eirina was said to be.
As he drew closer, the noise of shouting reached his ears. Bandits had surrounded the farm, stirring chaos. Elahar's brow furrowed.
"These fools… to cause trouble here of all places."
He dashed forward. By the time he arrived, the bandits were threatening the farmers, seizing crops and supplies. Their leader noticed him and sneered.
"So this is the so-called strongest elf swordsman, Elahar. Interesting. But we've got a hostage."
Elahar's eyes narrowed as he saw the woman they had seized—Eirina. She met the bandits' cruelty with defiance in her gaze, unflinching despite her peril.
"Stop right there, or the woman gets hurt!" the bandit leader barked.
But Eirina spoke first, her voice steady."I'll be fine. If you hesitate because of me, my safety will never be guaranteed anyway."
Her words stirred Elahar. In her firm expression, he saw she was willing to endure risk. At that very moment, Eirina bit down on her captor's arm, creating an opening. Elahar moved instantly, his blink-step closing the distance. His blade sliced the bandit's arm, freeing her.
From there, his sword sang. With overwhelming precision, he cut through the bandits, scattering them like leaves in a storm. Some fled in terror, others fell at his feet. In moments, the farm was silent once more.
Elahar turned to Eirina, checking her with concern. His hand settled briefly on her shoulder. She looked up at him, her eyes shining.
"Master Elahar… I never expected you to come all this way. But truly… thank you."
He looked momentarily taken aback, then inclined his head."I was simply passing through. But… I did want to be sure you were unharmed."
Eirina smiled, nodding. In her gaze was trust and gratitude. Words were scarce, but in that fleeting exchange something deeper was forged.
Elahar realized, with a faint unease and a quiet conviction, that he could no longer deny the feelings that bound him to her.
**
Episode 24: The Creed of the Fallen Elf
Elahar studied the guild's notice board until his eyes stopped on one mission in particular: a contract involving fallen elves. For a long moment, he lingered there, the memories of past battles resurfacing. In the end, he accepted. It was not for profit nor recognition, but to face what still lingered in the shadows of his kind.
The mission led him to a village deep within a dark forest. The people there had lived under the yoke of fallen elves—extorted, threatened, diminished. When they saw him, their eyes lit with hope.
"You are Elahar, the strongest elf swordsman, aren't you? Please, end their reign."
He gave a silent nod and pressed into the woods. There, amid the trees, a figure emerged: a fallen elf he had once crossed blades with. The other's eyes gleamed red in the dark, his presence steeped in malice.
"Elahar," he said with a sneer. "Still parading through the world with your so-called righteousness. You think yourself right, but we fight for our creed. We are not simply fallen—we chose this path."
Elahar's reply was heavy with resolve."Belief does not absolve cruelty. Your creed leaves nothing but scars upon the innocent."
The fallen elf laughed bitterly, drawing a blade laced with cold, corrupt energy."Our creed is not about power alone. It is about freedom. If others are harmed, then that is their weakness, not ours."
Elahar's gaze did not waver."Whatever your creed, if it tramples the weak and stains itself with blood, then it is hollow. I will show you as much."
Steel clashed, sparks flying as the two swordsmen engaged. The fallen elf's strikes were fierce, his conviction lending them weight, but Elahar's movements were calm, precise, unshaken. Blink after blink, his blade slipped through the darkness, countering, parrying, cutting with flawless timing.
The fallen elf fought with passion, his strikes burning with twisted purpose. But at last Elahar's skill found the opening he sought. His blade struck true, and the fallen elf fell to his knees.
Even in defeat, the elf's eyes burned. He did not renounce his creed, but clung to it until the end.
"If only… your creed had not walked this path," Elahar murmured.
He exhaled deeply as the body stilled, the weight of conflicting convictions pressing on him. Though the villagers later thanked him, their gratitude did little to lighten his heart. This was no victory of good over evil—it was a clash of choices, of beliefs.
And so, with quiet steps, he left the forest, burdened yet sharpened by reflection.
Not far from there, another presence awaited him. A figure emerged from the trees—once a prominent figure of the elf kingdom. Sadril. His eyes gleamed with an unsettling light as he smiled.
"Elahar. I have heard of your pursuit of strength, and so I came. Why not join me? With your will and your blade, together we could shake the continent."
Elahar studied him for a long moment before speaking."Are there strong ones in your path? If so, perhaps I would consider it."
Sadril's smile deepened."Strong ones are everywhere. But your answer… intriguing. The strongest of elves, and yet not driven by strength alone. You walk a different road than most."
Elahar's voice was measured."And what is yours, Sadril? Why did you abandon the kingdom's halls for this path?"
Sadril's eyes shone with fervor."The noble name of elves was never enough. I refuse to leave our destiny in the hands of others. I seek a world where elves are powerful, sovereign, untouchable. That is the creed I chose."
Elahar was silent for a moment. He sensed the difference: Sadril's creed was not mere corruption, but ambition—perhaps even vision.
"Where your creed will lead, I cannot say," Elahar said at last. "But it is not the same as those who fell. Perhaps one day, I will see the world you strive to create."
**
Episode 25: Meeting the Strong, Clash of Convictions
Elahar walked the forest road toward the city. Word of his strength had spread, drawing challengers from far and wide. At the foot of a quiet hill, three figures blocked his path. Each bore different weapons and armor, yet all shared the same resolute gaze.
The First Challenger – Arta the PaladinA seasoned knight clad in silver armor stepped forward, his holy blade gleaming. His eyes judged Elahar with stern intensity.
Arta: "Elahar, I hear you too seek strength. But I wield mine only in service of justice. If you pursue strength for its own sake, then you walk the path of corruption. Power exists to uphold justice."
Elahar: "Justice… Does it not shift with circumstance? The moment you bind strength to justice alone, you shackle it. I seek strength itself. The line between justice and evil is mine to draw."
Arta shook his head, disappointment etched on his face.
Arta: "Without justice, the world falls to chaos. The strong would crush the weak at will. Strength only finds true value when used for a noble cause."
Elahar: "Your noble cause and my freedom are different roads. I will carve my own path with my own blade."
Arta sighed, not convinced, but offered a respectful nod. Though their convictions diverged, he acknowledged Elahar's resolve before stepping aside.
The Second Challenger – Lianna the AvengerNext came a young woman garbed in the robes of a shrine maiden, a crimson-tinted spear in her hands. Her eyes blazed with pain and fury.
Lianna: "My strength is born of vengeance. I was betrayed, and I live only to unleash my wrath upon those who wronged me. Surely you, too, can understand the power of vengeance?"
Elahar: "Vengeance… is but a fleeting goal. It strips you of everything else."
Lianna: "It matters not! My reason to live is vengeance alone. My strength flows from pain. Have you ever endured such pain, Elahar?"
Elahar studied her in silence. Behind her fierce eyes was sorrow, carved deep into her soul.
Elahar: "Pain has no doubt made you strong. But when vengeance ends, your strength will collapse. I accept pain to become stronger, but I am not chained to vengeance."
Lianna: "Then you know nothing of what drives me. If vengeance is my everything, then I will fight for that everything!"
Her voice quivered with anguish. With one last searing look, she turned away, leaving Elahar with the sense of a wound too deep for him to touch.
The Third Challenger – Balik the Warrior of HonorLast came a scarred giant, broad-shouldered and grim, wielding a massive axe. His steps were steady, his eyes unwavering.
Balik: "I fight for honor. Without it, power has no worth. Tell me, Elahar, what purpose drives your quest for strength?"
Elahar: "Honor is not mine to chase. I fight only for myself, to walk my chosen road. My strength is not for the eyes of others."
Balik: "Honor is the noblest reward for a warrior. Strength is not for vanity but for earning true honor."
Elahar nodded, conceding the man's conviction, though his own path was different.
Elahar: "Your honor is worthy. But mine is the battle itself—the strength to satisfy my own will, not others' praise."
Balik's gaze was heavy as he stepped aside.
Balik: "Then you have yet to grasp the weight of honor. Perhaps someday, you will."
One after another, the three challengers departed, their words lingering. Justice, vengeance, honor—three paths, each claiming strength as its core. Elahar walked on, his own conviction burning brighter. For him, strength was freedom itself, and no creed could bind his blade.
**
Episode 26: Memories of the Elf Kingdom, and Conflicted Emotions
As he walked a quiet forest trail, Elahar's thoughts drifted back to the elf kingdom. There, his name had been a symbol of pride and strength—the "strongest elf swordsman." Yet the very honor that crowned him had also bound him like chains.
Dappled sunlight fell through the trees, stirring memories: his strict master Aedurans, comrades-in-arms, and the weight of tradition. In the kingdom, strength was proven by walking the prescribed path, safeguarding honor and heritage. But Elahar had always felt suffocated by that one road laid before him.
Then, a familiar voice broke his reverie. Approaching was Ronen, a knight of the kingdom and once his comrade.
Ronen: "Elahar. It has been a long time. Still wandering, away from the kingdom?"
Elahar: "Not wandering. I walk the road I chose."
Ronen: "You call it choice, but you abandoned our traditions and our honor. The kingdom still wishes for your return. We have duties—things worth protecting together."
Elahar's expression darkened. He had been celebrated within the kingdom, yet suffocated within its strictures. He respected elven tradition, yet yearned for freedom beyond it.
Elahar: "The kingdom's honor is precious, yes. But I seek something greater: to find my own strength, to live as myself. Within the kingdom's cage, that was impossible."
Ronen: "And what is this strength you chase? Do you even know? Strength is not for isolation—it was nurtured in our traditions, in our roots. Do not forget that."
Ronen's words stirred something long buried in Elahar's heart. He had left to walk his own path, but the kingdom's teachings, its roots, had never truly left him.
Ronen looked him in the eyes, voice heavy with conviction.
Ronen: "One day you will understand. Our roots cannot be severed. The kingdom will remain part of you, no matter your road. True strength is not denial, but the union of roots and choice."
With that, Ronen departed, leaving Elahar deep in thought.
Elahar whispered to himself:"Perhaps you are right. To cast away the kingdom was never the answer. True strength may lie in embracing its legacy—yet walking my own path."
And so, burdened and enlightened both, Elahar pressed forward. He would seek freedom and selfhood, yet carry the kingdom's roots within him. For perhaps, only in balance, could true strength be found.