The Elves of LOONA

Day 0

The horse's breathing comes in ragged, wet pulls.

You kneel beside it, your hand resting on the flat plane of its neck, feeling the heat radiating from its body. An arrow shaft protrudes from its left flank at a sickening angle, and one of its legs buckles awkwardly—broken during the fall. The horse was shot by one of your comrades, his shot went wild when a demon spawn lunged at him. A dark, almost black pool of blood has seeped through the dirt beneath the horse’s body. Your short sword rests in your hand, its edge catching the pale afternoon light filtering through the canopy of the Lunarwoods.

Behind you, the skirmish has ended. The sounds of steel and shouting have faded into the quiet of the forest clearing. Your squad, twelve men including yourself, are milling about, making sure the demon spawn you chased into the woods have been completely routed. A man stabs at a small frog-like demon spawn with his spear. Captain Aldric stands a few paces away, his plate mail dented and crusted with demon blood, watching you with an annoyed expression.

"Gods! Hurry it up. I'm fucking starving."

A butt of a spear hits your side, accompanied by the complaint. You turn to see Lorne—your best friend, conscripted into the army with you four months ago. Well, he was conscripted. You volunteered. Not to join your friend, not to spare your scholar older brother from this life, though your family did request it. You did it to get away from your home. To see something more than the small village in the middle of nowhere.

The army has changed Lorne. Earlier this year, he would have done everything in his power to save this horse. Now, he only sees food. You can barely recognize him anymore.

"Come the fuck on! It's practically dead already! We haven't had anything but dry bread in weeks!" Lorne complains again.

You look back down at the horse. Its dark eye meets yours and it’s movements begin to calm.

Your fingers tighten around the sword hilt. The leather grip is warm from your sweat. You press your forehead gently against the horse's muzzle.

"I’m sorry," you breathe, and the horse closes its eye.

You rise and take a step back. You raise the short sword in both hands, aligning the point just behind the base of its skull. Your arms are steady. Your breathing is even.

You bring the blade down.

The sound is terrible and will haunt you for a long time. A single, clean crack, followed by a soft exhale. The horse's body shudders a couple of times before going still. Its broken leg twitches, the hoof scraping lightly against the ground and then nothing.

"Good." The captain says, already moving away. "Now gut it. I want the—"

A sound cuts through the air. Not the sound of steel. Something higher. Something singing.

Then the world erupts in whistling arrows.

The volley comes from the tree line to the east, where the forest thickens into a wall of ancient trees. You hear the arrows before you see them—they split the air before stopping, replaced by the wet sound of iron meeting flesh.

Captain Aldric screams. Or he would have, if there weren't an arrow coming out of his throat. Instead, he chokes on his own blood.

You hit the ground without thinking, rolling behind the horse's body, using it for some cover. Around you, men are falling. You hear the weight of a body drop beside you—Captain Aldric, two more arrows lodged in his back where his plate mail did not cover.

"Burn."

You barely hear the word coming from an unfamiliar female voice. Then you hear it again, much louder in your head. Then screams. You look up to see the men who weren't already dying from arrow wounds burst into bright blue flames.

You turn to see Lorne roll onto his back and stare at the sky. An arrow in his chest. For a moment, he looks like your friend again. Then a sword plunges into his chest—a crack, followed by a soft exhale. The same sound from when you killed the horse minutes ago. Lorne's body lifts slightly as the blade reverses direction, then falls again.

You blink at the sight of his lifeless body until you finally notice the figure that steps over his body. Then another. Then three more.

Five of them.

"Your holy fire spared this one, Jungeun."

The voice comes from the tallest of the five. She steps forward, cleaning her hand-and-a-half sword of Lorne's blood. She's an elf—impossibly beautiful, with porcelain skin and dark eyes with strange circles on the iris. Her jawline is sharp, almost angular, and her long dark hair spills over her shoulder and down her back. She wears a mix of plate and leather armor, a knight's garb.

"Looks like I won the bet, Jinsoul," another voice says. "Told you he was good." This one is shorter, her dark hair framing a youthful, round face. She wears flowing robes of deep green and silver, holding a staff made from a gnarled tree branch. A mage.

"He killed the horse, Haseul," a third voice says, flat and measured. This one belongs to a slender elf with straight light-brown hair framing a face with an unreadable stare. She has eyes like the first elf. She wears a leather outfit that shows off her toned arms and midsection, a book with a holy symbol clutched in her hands. You wonder why this priest was so muscular. She closes the book, and the blue flames on the battlefield go out.

"Blah, blah… you need to loosen up, Jungeun." The fourth voice is more confident. The speaker is the most striking of the five—her body just as fit as the priest, with flowing brown hair curling at the ends and framing a face of almost absurd beauty. Her skin is flawless, her lips full and pink, her lighter brown eyes sweeping over the clearing with a calm that borders on arrogance. She wears form-fitting leather that leaves her toned arms bare and shorts that show off her powerful legs. She slings her short bow on her back and starts pulling arrows from bodies, checking the arrowheads for damage. "I'm glad he didn't burst into flames. This one…" She tilts her head, looking at you with a flirty expression. Then she winks.

"…is kind of cute." The fifth voice is brighter than the others. She finishes the ranger's thought as she steps closer, her gaze examining your face. She wears dark, fitted clothing with daggers at her hip and a short bow slung on her back. "He showed the horse kindness in its last moments. That counts for something." This elf has odd eyes too.

The tall elf sheathes her sword with a deliberate click and turns to face you fully. She crosses her arms over her armored chest, her dark eyes narrowing as she studies you the way a cat studies a mouse it hasn't decided to eat yet.

"Haseul.. the horse. Leave the humans and the demon spawn. A reminder to other humans that forget their place." Her voice is a low rasp, carrying a distinctive huskiness. She doesn't look at the mage as she gives the order.

"Right." The mage steps closer, her staff clicking softly against the dirt. Her round face is gentle, almost motherly, and her dark eyes glisten with compassion. She takes a deep breath and begins to sing softly—a low, melodic hum that fills the clearing with warmth despite the carnage. Roots begin to push up from the ground, curling around the horse's body, cradling it. The earth opens gently, and the roots guide the horse's body downward into the soft soil as if tucking it into a bed. When she finishes, there's a small mound of fresh earth where the horse lay, and a single wildflower pushes up from its center.

The tall elf watches this with a soft expression that flickers across her face before she schools it back to a sharp composure. She looks back at you.

"Here's what I'm thinking," she says, uncrossing her arms and planting her hands on her hips. "You wandered into the Lunarwoods. That's a death sentence. You know that. I know that. We have every right to execute you like the others. But the holy flames didn't judge you to be evil." She glances at the priest, who shrugs.

She takes a step toward you, her boots crunching on the dirt. "I have a proposal, human." Her lips curl into something that's not quite a smile. "The northern human lands—we need to pass through them. Elves aren't permitted there without a human escort. You're… well, you're human. You're alive and I assume you want to keep it that way. So here are your options."

"One: I run you through right now. Quick and clean." Her voice doesn't waver. "Two: You accompany us to the northern human lands. You act as our escort. You don't cause trouble. You don't try to run. And when we reach our destination, you're free to go." She pauses, letting the weight of those words settle. "In exchange, you get to keep breathing."

The ranger leans against a tree trunk, arms folded beneath her ample chest, her toned legs crossed at the ankle. Her lighter brown eyes sweep over you with an appraising look. "She's being generous," She says, her voice carrying a confident, unshakable tone. "Personally, I think we should keep him. Maybe that thing Jiwoo mentioned is true. He seems like he could be useful."

The rogue stands slightly behind the others, her dark eyes soft as she watches you. She tilts her head, studying your face with quiet curiosity. "What do you think?" she asks, her voice bright and playful. "Do you want to live?"

The question hangs in the air, simple and direct, while the bodies of your squad cool in the dirt around you and the wildflower blooms over the horses grave.

You nod slowly.

“Good. Welcome to the ARTMS unit.” The tall elf extends a hand out to you.

Day 3

Three days since the skirmish and the Lunarwoods have a different feel now. The forest has shifted from a place of tension to something almost peaceful—ancient trees stretching impossibly high, their silver-white bark glowing faintly in the dappled light. Bioluminescent moss clings to the roots, casting the forest floor in soft blue-green hues even in the midday sun. Strange flowers with petals that seem to breathe open and close line the path, releasing faint, sweet fragrances.

You walk in the middle of the group now. The formation has naturally settled that way—Jinsoul at the front, scanning the path with a warrior's vigilance; Jungeun at the rear, her book always at hand, ready to summon holy fire at a moment's notice; and the other three drifting around you like satellites.

Heejin walks to your left, her short bow slung across her back, her long brown hair swaying with each confident stride. She moves through the forest like she owns it. Her fitted leather armor hugs her powerful frame, and every few steps she rolls her shoulders, the motion drawing the eye to the toned muscle beneath her skin.

"Want some, human?" Heejin asks, holding out a handful of berries from a satchel. They're an unusual deep violet color, glistening with moisture.

Jungeun looks up from her book. “Seriously, Heejin? You’re going to feed him those?”

“Why not? Jiwoo said it works. I trust her.” Heejin responds offering you the berries again.

“Why do I feel like you are trying to fatten me up to eat me?” You ask the ranger looking at the mystery fruit.

"Those are Loonaberries," Haseul chimes in from your right, walking with her staff in one hand using it as a walking stick "All elves of the Lunarwoods can sing them with enough soil and water. Heejin's are a little bitter, though."

"The taste changes depending on who sings them?" You ask as you take a berry from Heejin and place it in your mouth.

"Mm-hm." Haseul nods enthusiastically. "Here try one of mine. I sang these this morning." She reaches into her own pouch and offers you a small cluster of the same berries. You notice the difference immediately—they're slightly larger and a deeper shade of purple. When you pop one in your mouth, the flavor is sweet with a hint of tartness, almost like a blackberry crossed with honey.

"These are good," you say as you bite into another berry. "Who sings the best ones?"

"Jinsoul." Four voices say in unison.

Jinsoul, who has been walking ahead with her jaw tight and her pace brisk, doesn't turn around. But her long ears twitch.

"It's because swinging a sword around doesn't use much mana. She doesn’t have much to spend her mana on so when it’s her turn to sing some for us she makes a lot," Yerim offers quietly from behind you, her soft voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"That's… very generous of her," you say, trying not to laugh.

"It's the only generous thing she does," Jungeun's flat voice cuts in from the rear. You turn to look at the healer and she offers you a berry. Hers taste like a sweeter winter melon.

"Shut up, Jungeun," Jinsoul calls over her shoulder, her voice a low rasp.

"Can I ask a question?" You look over at Heejin.

"You can ask as many as you want, I'll answer all of them honestly." Heejin replies with a bright smile.

"I noticed that Jinsoul, Jungeun, and Yerim's eyes are different from yours and Haseul."

Heejin's smile widens. "Ah, you noticed. We call it 'Odd Eye Circles'. It's a rare mutation at birth. It makes them stronger than regular elves. It's why Jinsoul is so strong despite being a stick—"

"I can hear you," Jinsoul calls again.

"You're supposed to hear me." Heejin fires back.

Yerim leans forward slightly, her dark odd eyes meeting yours. "It's not just physical strength," she says softly. "Elves with Odd Eyes tend to have stronger senses. We notice things others miss.

"Interesting," you say, genuinely fascinated. "And you two?"

"We're the normal ones," Haseul says cheerfully as she ducks under a low branch. "Well, normal by elven standards."

“If it’s rare…how does the ARTMS unit have three members with the mutation?” You ask as Yerim hands you one of her berries. Hers are the sweet and mildly tart, similar to cherries.

“Coincidence mostly. Our combat units are usually formed with elves that come from the same city. The five of us are from the city of Loona.” Jungeun explains as she looks up from her book.

“I’m sure there are others but the only other Odd Eye we know is Sohyun from the Moon Unit.” Heejin adds. “That one is interesting. She likes to experiment with how she sings her berries. Tastes different every time.”

The forest opens slightly ahead, and Jinsoul slows her pace, glancing back at you with those sharp, dark eyes. "We camp here tonight," she announces, her voice carrying that authoritative rasp. "Heejin, set up the perimeter. Yerim, gather wood. Haseul, prepare dinner. Jungeun—"

"I know," Jungeun says flatly, already turning the pages of her book. "Ward the camp."

Jinsoul nods and turns to you. She holds your gaze for a beat too long, her jaw tightening as she looks you over. Then she speaks.

"Make yourself useful, human. Don't just stand there."

She throws you a satchel full of berries and walks off toward a clearing, and you watch her go, the silver-white light of the Lunarwoods catching in her dark hair as she moves through the trees.

Heejin nudges your shoulder with her elbow. "She likes you," she whispers, not very quietly.

"I heard that," Jinsoul calls from the clearing.

"You're supposed to hear that too," Heejin whispers again, this time with a grin.

You take a bite of one of Jinsoul’s berries.

Day 7

The cave is warm despite the relentless rain hammering the forest outside. Water cascades down the stone walls in silver sheets, pooling in shallow depressions on the cave floor. The sound is almost musical—a constant, rhythmic drumming that echoes off the ceiling high above. Bioluminescent moss clings to the walls here too, painting the interior in soft blues and greens, and the elves have arranged their bedrolls and supplies along the edges of the space, creating a surprisingly cozy camp.

Heejin holds up the rabbit triumphantly, its body still warm from the chase. She's drenched—her brown hair plastered to her neck and shoulders, her fitted leather armor darkened with rain. Water streams off her toned arms as she sets the rabbit down on a flat stone near the center of the cave where Haseul has already begun stacking dried wood for a fire.

"I got it clean in one shot," Heejin announces proudly, shaking water from her hair like a dog. Droplets fly in every direction, and Yerim, who had been sitting nearby mending a tear in her dark cloak, lets out a small, startled sound as water sprays across her lap.

"Thank you," Yerim says dryly, wringing out the hem of her cloak.

"You're welcome~" Heejin sings, already moving to help Haseul with the fire.

"Should we just roast it over the fire?" Haseul asks, tilting her head with that perpetually cheerful expression. She's already holding the rabbit by its hind legs, turning it this way and that as if examining a piece of art. "I think if we skewer it on a stick and hold it over the flames, the outside will get all crispy and the inside will…"

"How about I cook it?" you offer.

The cave goes quiet. Five pairs of elven eyes turn to look at you.

Jinsoul stops sharpening her sword. "You cook?" she asks, her voice carrying a note of genuine surprise.

"I have some… experience with it," you say, not wanting to brag, though the truth is that cooking has been a passion of yours for years. Growing up on a farm, you learned to work with what you had—and to make it taste good.

Heejin's eyes light up. "You know how to cook? Like, actually cook? Not just throw things on a fire and hope for the best?"

"She means can you do better than what we've been eating," Yerim translates quietly, and you have to suppress a laugh.

Jinsoul sets her sword aside and stands, walking over to look at the rabbit in Haseul's hands. She examines it for a moment, turning it over, then looks at you.

"Let him cook….I.. I can't handle our attempts at food much longer," Jinsoul says, and there's a dryness to her voice that might almost be humor.

"Hey!" Haseul protests, clutching the rabbit to her chest. "My berry stew was perfectly fine!"

Later…

The cave smells incredible. The rabbit stew bubbles in a pot that you took from squads supplies before you left with the elves. Wild mushrooms you found growing along the cave wall, potatoes that you found the day before, and a handful of herbs you crushed together. The fire crackles beneath the pot, and steam rises in lazy curls that mingle with the cave's natural moisture.

The elves have arranged themselves in a loose circle around the fire watching you prepare the meal. "What is that?" Jinsoul asks, leaning forward slightly. Her dark eyes are fixed on the pot with an intensity that might be unsettling if it weren't directed at food. "What is all that dirt you’re putting in the pot?"

"Salt… and other spices." You stir the stew with a wooden stick, checking the consistency as you realize why every meal you’ve had with these elves have been mostly terrible. The rabbit is nearly falling apart, the mushrooms have softened into rich, earthy pieces, and the potatoes are tender. It's coming along beautifully.

"Choerry, are you smelling this?," Heejin says casually as she nudges Yerim with her elbow.

“Choerry? I thought your name was Yerim?” You ask the youngest elf as you tend to the stew.

“Oh! It’s an old nickname the girls gave me.” Yerim replies with the big smile that she gets when she gets to talk about herself. “What do you think? Suits me?”

“Yeah…it’s cute. It fits you… do the rest of you have nicknames too?” You look around to see their reactions as you add more salt to the nights meal.

The elves remain quiet for a moment. It’s Jinsoul, out of all the elves, that breaks the silence. “KimLip.”

“Jinsoul! I told you to stop calling me that!” Jungeun rises from her seat as she curses at the knight. The other elves burst into laughter at Jungeun’s reaction.

“KimLip?” You ask confused at both the nickname and the priest’s reaction. “I don’t understand. That’s Jungeun’s nickname?” The elves laugh even harder at your confusion.

Day 11

The morning sun rises over the open plains, painting the sky in streaks of amber and rose. The grass here is different from the Lunarwoods—tall, golden, and swaying in a warm breeze that carries the scent of wildflowers and distant rain. The border of the northern lands stretches to the north, a jagged line of dark mountains against the horizon. To the south, the last remnants of the Lunarwoods' silver trees are visible, their canopy shimmering like a mirage.

Heejin and Jungeun are stretching at the edge of camp, their morning routines synchronized by habit. Heejin's body moves through a series of fluid poses that highlight every toned muscle in her powerful frame, her leather armor creaking softly with each movement. Jungeun, meanwhile, performs a quiet series of stretches beside her, her long limbs extending in lines that seem almost impossible.

"Look at this pervert. Never seen a fit woman before? Stop staring." Heejin catches you looking and smirks, not breaking her stance.

"I wasn't—" you start, but Heejin's grin widens.

"Relax, I'm teasing." She winks, then her expression shifts, her eyes narrowing as she scans the horizon. The playful energy drains from her posture in an instant. Her hand moves to the short bow on her back.

Jungeun stops mid-stretch. Her book is already in her hands, the pages turning rapidly. "Something's coming," she says, her voice flat but urgent. "The earth is vibrating. Heavy footfalls. Multiple."

"Jinsoul!" Heejin calls, her voice carrying across the camp. "We have a problem."

Jinsoul is already on her feet, her sword drawn, the steel catching the morning light. She moves to the front of the group, her dark eyes scanning the tall grass to the east. Yerim appears at her side, two daggers in her hands, her expression calm but alert.

"Four," Yerim whispers, counting. "No…five. No… four. They're splitting up."

The grass to the east parts violently, and four creatures emerge. They're wolf-like, but wrong—too large, standing nearly chest-height to a human. Their bodies are covered in coarse, dark fur that bristles with spikes. Their eyes are a sickly yellow, and their jaws are filled with rows of jagged teeth that glisten with saliva. Their legs are thick and muscular, ending in claws that tear through the grass as they move.

"Demon spawn," Jinsoul mutters, her grip tightening on her sword.

"Can you handle four?" you ask, instinctively moving to grab your own short sword.

Jinsoul glances at you. "Stay behind me. Protect Haseul and Jungeun."

One of the lupine demon spawn lunges forward.

It breaks from the formation and charges directly at Heejin, who meets it with a spinning kick that connects with its jaw. The crack of impact is loud, and the creature staggers but doesn't fall. Its claws swipe at her midsection, and Heejin twists, the claws raking across her side, tearing through leather and skin. A line of red appears across her toned stomach, and she hisses through her teeth.

"Shit—" Heejin grunts, but she's already moving, nocking an arrow. She fires. The arrow takes the creature in the eye, and it collapses.

The second demon spawn charges at Jinsoul, who meets it head-on with a downward strike that cleaves through its neck. Blood sprays in a hot arc, and the creature's body falls in two pieces. But the third and fourth have split—one circling toward Yerim and Haseul, and the fourth angling directly at you.

You raise your sword as the lupine demon spawn bares its fangs and leaps. Time slows. You see every detail—the rows of teeth, the hot breath, the claws extended like grappling hooks. You bring your sword up and to the right, a horizontal slash that catches the creature across its snout. It yelps, stumbling, and you follow with a quick thrust that finds the gap between its ribs.

The creature goes still.

Heejin has another arrow nocked, tracking the last creature as it circles nervously between the bodies of its fallen packmates. Yerim has her daggers drawn, crouched in a defensive stance that speaks to training you didn't know she had. Haseul stands behind them all, her staff glowing faintly, ready to cast a spell if needed. Heejin lets the arrow loose as Jinsoul charges.

The plains are quiet again. Wind rustles the tall grass. Birds resume singing somewhere in the distance. The only sounds are the heavy breathing of the elves and the soft drip of blood from Jinsoul's sword as she sheathes it.

Heejin presses a hand to her wounded side, wincing. "That one got me good."

Jungeun is already at her side, her hands glowing with warm, golden light. The circles of her eyes spin as she presses her hands to the wound, and the flesh knits itself together beneath her fingers, the skin smoothing over in a process that takes only seconds. Heejin sighs with relief.

"You're welcome," Jungeun says, her voice carrying the faintest hint of warmth—perhaps the closest thing to affection she'll openly show.

Jinsoul walks over to you. She looks at the dead demon spawn at your feet, then at you. Her rings of her odd eyes are still spinning. "You fought well," she says, her voice low and rough.

"Thanks," you say, wiping blood from your blade.

Jinsoul holds your gaze for a moment, then turns away, walking back toward camp. "We move in ten minutes. The northern border isn't far. Stay sharp."

Heejin falls into step beside you as you walk back. "Not bad, human," she says quietly, her confident tone softened to something almost gentle. 

The morning sun climbs higher, and the group begins to pack. The dead demon spawn will be left for the scavengers of the plains.

Day 15

The catacomb is cold.

Not the biting cold of winter, but a deep, bone-settling chill that seeps through stone walls and ancient flagstones. The air smells of dust, damp earth, and something faintly metallic—old blood or the remnants of whatever magical wards once protected this place. Bioluminescent moss doesn't grow here; instead, the elves have fashioned crude torches from salvaged wood and the last of their kindling, casting the narrow corridors in flickering orange light that dances across crumbling stonework and faded murals depicting scenes of a civilization long dead.

The room they've claimed for rest is a dead end. A chamber that might have once been a shrine, judging by the raised stone dais at its center and the shallow alcoves carved into the walls, each one empty of whatever relics once filled them. The floor is relatively clear of debris, and Haseul has managed to create a small fire with one of the torches, though it does little against the cold.

For two days, they've been fighting.

Skeletal demon spawn—the worst kind. Not because they're particularly strong, but because they never stop coming. The catacomb is infested with them, and every corridor they've tried to navigate has been a gauntlet of rattling bones and grasping hands. Jinsoul's sword arm is aching. Heejin's quiver is nearly empty. Yerim has gone through three sets of daggers, her short bow lost the day before. Haseul is eating what’s left in her berry pouch, the last of her mana used to shatter the last group of skeletons with lighting. And Jungeun—

Jungeun sits with her back against the dais, her book open in her lap. Her eyes are closed, and her breathing is shallow. She's been this way for nearly an hour. When she finally opens her eyes at the sound of scratching against the wooden door, they're glassy with exhaustion.

"I can feel them," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "There's a dozen on the other side. Maybe more. They're… they're pressing against the door. Testing it."

The scratching sound intensifies—a chorus of bone against stone and wood, rhythmic and relentless. Small cracks begin to spiderweb across the ancient door's surface.

Jinsoul draws her sword, though her movements are slower than usual, her arm trembling slightly. The rings of her eyes begin to spin slowly. "How long?"

"Minutes," Jungeun says. "Maybe less. I can't… I don't have enough mana for a proper ward. Nothing offensive. I've been saving what's left for healing and that's it."

The scratching stops. Then starts again, louder.

"We're out of options," Jinsoul says flatly. Her jaw tightens. "Unless someone has a suggestion that doesn't involve dying."

The room is silent except for the scratching and the flickering of the torches.

Heejin speaks up. She's leaning against the wall, she has small cuts and bruises where ever there is exposed skin. Nothing life threatening but not worth the mana Jungeun would have to use to heal. Not yet.

"What about that thing Jiwoo mentioned?" she says slowly. "You know, the thing she does with her human party members. It’s the reason we’ve been feeding him our loonaberries, right?"

Jinsoul stares at her. "The thing Jiwoo does?"

"Yes. You know. The thing." Heejin gestures vaguely, a smirk crossing her lips despite the situation. "With the humans."

“What thing?” You ask your eyes shifting between Heejin and Jinsoul. “Whatever it is, if it will save us, I’ll do it.”

Jinsoul's expression goes blank. Then she turns to look at you, her dark eyes narrowing with disbelief. She looks back at Heejin.

"Here? Now? You're joking. "

"I'm not," Heejin says, sitting up straighter. "Think about it. It worked for Jiwoo. Says the stuff is five times more potent than loonaberries on their own. We’ve been feeding him a mixture of our berries for a while now.. it should have an effect. Hopefully."

Jungeun’s gaze shifts to you, then to Heejin, and then back to you. She closes her book and sets it aside.

"Jiwoo's method…," Jungeun says slowly, as if tasting the words. "Alright. Sure I’ll do it. It’s better than all of us dying here."

Despite her exhaustion, Jungeun stands up and walks towards you, taking a waterskin with her. She stops in front of you and speaks in her characteristic flat tone.

"Hope you can perform in front of a crowd." She pushes you against the wall and kneels down in front of you, her hands reaching for the waistband of your pants. Her fingers, slender and surprisingly warm, hook into the fabric. She tugs your pants down, revealing your cock. She pours water over you, cleaning the sweat and dirt from you. The cool air of the catacomb hits your skin, and you feel the blood rush to your shaft as it begins to stiffen fully, rising to its full length. Jungeun stares at it, her eyes widen at the sight.

"…Right." She exhales slowly. "That's… certainly unexpected."

“Damn…that’s the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.” Yerim adds as she stands up to get a better look.

“Seriously. If we survive this, I might need a turn with that thing.” Heejin says nudging Jinsoul with her elbow.

Jungeun wraps her hand around your shaft, her grip firm but not squeezing. She begins to stroke you slowly, her hand moving from base to tip in a steady rhythm, her thumb pressing gently against the underside of your cock. Her other hand reaches up to cradle your balls, her palm cupping them with a careful weight, rolling them gently between her fingers.

“Wait… Jungeun, what is going on?” The confusion on your face is obvious, but Jungeun ignores you as her fingers work your shaft. She doesn't explain—there's no time, and perhaps no need. The scratching at the door has intensified into a rhythmic pounding, and you can see the cracks in the ancient wood widening, splinters falling to the floor in a steady patter.

She leans forward and presses her tongue to the tip of your cock, dragging it slowly across the slit. The taste of your precum hits her tongue, and her eyes widen, the first real emotional reaction you've seen from her since you met. Her pupils dilate, and she pulls back just enough to look up at you, a thin strand of saliva connecting her lower lip to your tip.

"Oh," she breathes, her voice carrying a note of genuine surprise. "Oh, that's… that's good. That's very good." She turns her head slightly, looking at Heejin with an expression that's almost reverent. "You were right. The loonaberry infusion is—his essence is—" She turns back to you, her cheeks flushed despite her best efforts to maintain composure. "The sweetness. It's incredible. I can feel the mana response already."

“Looks like you are about to find out why she’s called KimLip.” Jinsoul jokes as she prepares for the next attack.

“Shut the fuck up, Jinsoul.” Jungeun warns the knight before turning back to face you. Then her lips are on your cock. No warning, no buildup—just her warm, soft mouth engulfing the head of your shaft in a single motion. The sensation is immediate and electric, her tongue swirling around your tip. Her lips are full and impossibly soft, forming a tight seal as she takes you deeper, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks.

“Fu..fuck.. Jungeun.. your lips.” You cry out and the four other elves all let out a collective chuckle.

"Mm—" The sound vibrates through your cock, and Jungeun's eyes flutter closed. Her hand continues to stroke your base, her pace increasing slightly, and you feel her tongue press flat against the underside of your shaft, tracing the ridge with deliberate attention. She pulls back with a wet, obscene sound, a thick rope of saliva stretching between her lips and your cock, then takes you in again, this time deeper, her throat relaxing as she swallows you down.

Behind her, the situation is deteriorating. The door cracks open with a sharp, splintering boom. A skeletal arm pushes through the gap, its fingers clawing at the stone frame. Then another, followed by a skull with empty eye sockets glowing a sickly green.

"Contact!" Jinsoul barks, launching herself at the door. Her sword comes down in a clean arc, severing an arm at the elbow. But more are pressing through—you can see them now, a mass of bones and tattered flesh pushing against the failing door.

Heejin is on her feet in an instant, nocking her last arrow with hands that don't tremble despite the exhaustion. She fires—a clean shot that takes a skeleton, shattering the skull and sending bones scattering. "That was my last one," she hisses, drawing her short sword instead. She moves to flank Jinsoul, the two of them forming a wall of steel between the door and the rest of the group.

"Haseul, light! As much as you can give!" Jinsoul orders, and Haseul raises her staff, the tip blazing with white-gold light that floods the chamber, pushing back the shadows. In the sudden brightness, you can see the full scope of the problem—dozens of skeletal hands reaching through the widening gap, the door's hinges finally giving way with a metallic screech.

Yerim moves to the far corner, her daggers drawn, her body low and coiled. "I'll handle the ones that get past," she says quietly, her voice steady despite the chaos.

Jungeun, meanwhile, has not stopped. Her mouth is still on your cock, her lips working with an intensity that borders on desperate. She's taking you deeper now, her throat constricting and relaxing in a rhythm. Her tongue is relentless, swirling and pressing, and you can feel the vibrations of her humming against your shaft. Her hand has moved to your balls, kneading them gently, her fingers finding a spot behind them that makes your hips buck involuntarily.

"Mm—mmh—" She pulls back just enough to breathe, a strand of saliva and precum glistening on her chin. Her eyes are half-lidded, glassy, and there's a flush spreading across her pale cheeks. "The mana is—it's building. I can feel it. But I need more. I need you to—" She looks up at you, her expression a rare mixture of fear and lust. "I need you to cum. Fill my mouth. Let me drink it all."

The door finally gives way entirely, slamming open with a thunderous crack. Skeletal figures pour through—dozens of them, their bones rattling as they shuffle forward in a wave. Jinsoul and Heejin engage immediately, steel flashing in the torchlight, but there are too many. A skeleton gets past them, lunging at Haseul, who stumbles back with a yelp, raising her staff defensively.

Yerim intercepts it with a spinning kick that sends the skeleton's head rolling, then moves to engage another. But there are simply too many for the three of them to handle alone.

Jungeun looks up at you again, her lips parted, your precum glistening on her tongue. "Please," she whispers, and it's the most emotion you’ve heard come from her. "Before it's too late."

The skeletons are closing in. You can hear Jinsoul shouting orders, Heejin cursing, Yerim's quiet grunts of effort. The chamber is chaos—steel on bone, torchlight on shadow, the acrid smell of death filling the stale air.

Jungeun opens her mouth wide, her tongue extended, her eyes locked on yours.

The release comes like a dam breaking.

Your hips surge forward involuntarily, and you feel the pressure building at the base of your shaft—a deep, coiling tension that tightens and tightens until—

You cum.

The first rope hits Jungeun's tongue, thick and hot and sweet with the essence of the loonaberries they've been feeding you for days. The taste is overwhelming—rich, almost honeyed, with a floral undertone that floods her mouth. Her eyes go wide, her Odd Eye Circles begin to spin reacting to the infusion of mana. She moans around your cock, the sound muffled but deep, her throat convulsing as she swallows desperately.

"Mmh—mmf—mmm—!"

But you're not stopping, it had been over six months since your last release. Your cock pulses again, another thick rope of cum flooding her mouth, and then another, and another. The volume is staggering—rope after rope after rope, your balls tightening and emptying in waves that seem to go on forever. Jungeun's jaw stretches, her cheeks bulging, her throat working frantically to keep up. Cum leaks from the corners of her lips, dribbling down her chin, her neck, pooling on the cold stone floor beneath her knees. She gags, pulls back, and gasps for air, a strand of cum stretching between her lower lip and your tip like a web of silk.

"Too—too much—" she chokes out, but her hands are still on your shaft, stroking, coaxing more out, her eyes desperate and hungry. She opens her mouth again, and you cum directly onto her tongue, and she swallows, and swallows, and swallows—but it's not enough. The volume is simply too great. A thick rope of cum shoots across her face, splattering her cheek and closing her left eye shut. She blinks, her remaining eye staring at you with a mixture of awe and disbelief as another rope paints her forehead.

Once you've stopped, your cock still twitching, Jungeun sits there on her knees. Her face is a mess—cum coating her lips, her chin, her cheek, her forehead, her eyelid sealed shut. A thick strand hangs from her nose. She looks absurd.

But her odd eye circles are spinning. Faster than you’ve seen yet. They're practically glowing with a warm, golden light—mana, raw and potent, swirling behind her irises like liquid fire.

Jungeun reaches for her book with trembling hands and stands up to face the skeletons. She opens it, and the pages seem to turn themselves, flipping to a passage that glows with intensity. She reads the words silently, her lips moving, and then she whispers—

"Burn."

You hear the word a second time in your mind like the other times you’ve seen her cast the spell. The word reverberates through the chamber like a thunderclap. The flames from before erupts from her hands—not in small, controlled bursts, but as a torrent of white-hot fire that floods the room like a wave. It's not blue anymore. It's white. Pure, blinding, searing white. The skeletons don't just catch fire—they are consumed in an instant, their bones igniting, their tattered flesh evaporating, their empty eye sockets blazing like tiny suns before they collapse into dust. The fire moves through the entire chamber, filling every corner, every crevice, every gap between the crumbling stones, and then—

Silence.

The white flame fades, leaving behind nothing but ash and the faint smell burnt stone. The chamber is quiet. The door hangs open, but there is nothing beyond it now—just dust and the distant, echoing silence of empty catacombs.

Jinsoul stands in the middle of the room, her sword still raised, her dark eyes wide. Slowly, she lowers it. She looks at Jungeun. Then at you. Then back at Jungeun.

"Jungeun….You have something on your face," Jinsoul says flatly.

Jungeun's remaining eye narrows. "Shut the fuck up, Jinsoul."

She scoops the cum from her sealed eyelid with two fingers and shoves it into her mouth, savoring it. The golden light in her eyes dims but doesn't disappear entirely. She swallows, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and closes her book.

The silence stretches.

Heejin breaks it first. She's leaning against the wall, her short sword hanging from her hand, staring at the pile of dust where dozens of skeletons used to be. "Did… did that just happen?"

"Seems like it," Yerim says softly, her daggers still drawn, her dark eyes wide with something between awe and disbelief.

Haseul steps forward, her staff still glowing faintly, her round face illuminated by the residual warmth of Jungeun's spell. "Jungeun," she says quietly, her voice carrying that characteristic warmth. "That was… that was incredible."

Day 17

It happens fast—one moment you are answering Heejin’s questions about cooking then the next she is straddling you on the grass of the open plains, her powerful thighs gripping your hips as she sinks down onto your length. She's tight, impossibly tight, her pussy gripping your shaft like a vice as she takes your entire thick length in one slow, deliberate descent. Her toned abs flex as she controls the pace, her powerful thighs trembling with the effort. She gasps, her head tilting back, her long brown hair spilling over her shoulders as her body adjusts to your girth.

"Fuck—" she breathes, her voice carrying that confident edge even as it cracks with pleasure. Her hands grip your shoulders, her fingers digging into your skin through your shirt. She looks down at you, her brown eyes half-lidded, her plump lips parted, and she smiles. "Gods, you're big."

She lifts herself, and the drag of your cock against her inner walls sends sparks through your nerves. She drops back down, harder this time, and the wet sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes across the empty plains. Her body bounces with each thrust, her ample breasts swaying beneath her torn leather top, her toned stomach flexing and relaxing in a rhythm that speaks to her incredible physical conditioning. She finds her pace—fast, powerful, her hips snapping down with the force of her powerful legs, each impact sending jolts through both of you.

"Use your hands," she pants, grabbing your wrists and placing them on her hips. "Hold on. Tight."

You grip her hips, and she moans at the contact. She rides you harder, her pace increasing, her breathing growing ragged. You can feel her inner walls fluttering around your shaft, tightening and releasing in waves that build with each thrust.

"Right there—don't stop—" she gasps, her eyes squeezing shut, her jaw clenching. Her powerful thighs quiver, and you can feel her getting close. She leans forward, pressing her forehead against yours, her breath hot against your face. "I'm—fuck—I'm going to—"

She cums with a sharp cry, her body seizing, her pussy clenching down on your cock so hard it almost hurts. Her walls spasm rhythmically, milking you, and she grinds down against you, chasing every last wave of pleasure. When she finally lifts her head, her face is flushed, her hair is wild, and she's grinning.

"Fuck..," she whispers, and begins to ride again.

Day 21

It's late evening. The sun is setting over the plains, painting the sky in shades of deep orange and purple. The group has stopped for the night near a cluster of ancient stones that might once have been a waypoint for travelers. Haseul and the others are setting up camp nearby, but Jungeun has led you here, to a spot where the stones form a natural alcove, hidden from view.

She's standing in front of you, her hand wrapped around your cock as she kisses you. The elves have discovered that all your fluids restore their energies while increasing their power. Your sweat is twice as strong as the loonaberries. Your saliva is five times stronger. Your semen is twenty times stronger. The elves have been taking turns drinking from your body. Jungeun's tongue explores your mouth with a thoroughness that contradicts her usual indifference towards you. Her lips are soft and cool, her breath carrying the faint sweetness of loonaberries.

She breaks the kiss, her dark eyes are glassy and the odd eye circles spin quickly, her cheeks flushed. Her hand strokes your shaft slowly spreading the precum you’ve been leaking.

"You taste incredible," she whispers, her voice low and husky. She presses her forehead against your chest, her breath warm through your shirt. Her hand moves faster, her grip tightening, and you feel her thumb press against the sensitive underside of your shaft. "You’re close? Go ahead and cum in my hand… or did you want cum on my face again you pervert…"

She's stroking you with a rhythm that makes your knees go weak, her fingers finding every sensitive spot, her palm creating a tight seal that amplifies every sensation. She looks up at you, her dark eyes meeting yours.

"Please," she whispers again, and you realize it's become something of a habit with her. "I need it. The mana—it helps. Everything you give me helps."

Your hips buck forward, and she catches your thrust with her hand, pumping you through your release. Your cum spills over her fingers, thick and hot and sweet, and she holds her hand up to her lips, licking your seed from her palm with slow, deliberate licks. When she's finished, she looks at you with an expression that might be contentment.

Day 25

You didn’t even know people used this hole for sex. Maybe it’s an elf thing. Maybe it’s a Haseul thing. Your cock presses against her tight ring, the tip just barely inside, and she's gripping the grass beneath her with white knuckles.

Haseul has guided you here—a hollow between two large stones, soft with dried grass, hidden from the others. She's lying on her stomach, her robes hiked up, her pale skin glowing in the moonlight. Her back is smooth, her spine visible beneath her skin, her hips raised slightly. Her dark hair is splayed around her. She's breathing hard, her face pressed into the grass.

"Slowly," she whispers, her melodic voice strained. "Please. Slowly."

You ease forward, and the resistance is intense. Her asshole is tight—tighter than you expected from someone who demanded to use it. You push past the first ring of muscle, and she gasps, her body tensing beneath you. You stop.

"Are you okay?" you ask.

"I'm—yes. Yes, I'm okay." She turns her head, and you can see her expression—her full lips parted, her dark eyes glassy, her cheeks flushed. "It's just—it's been—keep going. Please."

You push deeper, another inch, and she moans—a long, low, shuddering sound that vibrates through her body. Her fingers dig into the grass. Her hips push back against you, taking you deeper, and you feel her body relaxing around your shaft, her tight ring stretching to accommodate your girth.

"Oh—oh, that's—" she breathes, and you can hear the smile in her voice despite the discomfort. "Oh, you feel so good. So full."

When you're fully hilted, she lets out a long, shaking breath. She looks back at you over her shoulder, her dark eyes meeting yours, and her expression is pure, unfiltered bliss. Her lips are parted, her cheeks are flushed, and there are tears forming in the corners of her eyes from the sheer intensity of the sensation.

"Move," she whispers. "Slowly at first. Then—then whatever you want."

You begin to thrust, and her moans fill the hollow—soft, musical sounds that she doesn't try to hide. Her body rocks with each movement, her hips swaying, her back arching. You reach forward and wrap your hand around her waist, pulling her back against you, and she cries out, her walls clenching around your shaft.

"Right there—don't stop—" she pants, her voice cracking. "Fuck—fuck, that's—"

Her body tenses, her walls fluttering, and she cums with a sharp, breathless moan, her whole body shaking beneath you. You feel her tighten around you, her ring pulsing in waves, and you grip her hips and thrust harder, chasing your own release. When you finally cum, it's deep inside her, and she screams in pure, unfiltered ecstasy, her body milking you, her walls spasming around your shaft.

When you finally pull out, she collapses onto the grass, breathing hard, her body glowing with a faint golden light. She rolls over and looks up at you, and her smile is radiant.

"Thank you," she whispers. "That was… that was exactly what I needed."

She reaches up and cups your face in her small hands, pulling you down for a kiss.

Day 30

Yerim and Heejin are on their knees in front of you, their lips wrapped around your cock simultaneously.

Heejin takes the left side, her full lips sealed around your shaft, her tongue working the underside. Yerim takes the right, her soft lips parting as she takes you in, her tongue swirling around the tip with gentle, deliberate movements.

"Mmm," Yerim hums around your shaft, and the vibration travels through your entire body. Heejin echoes it, and the combined sensation is almost too much.

Heejin pulls back, a strand of saliva and precum connecting her lips to your tip. "Fuck, why do you taste so good." she whispers, her confident tone softened. She looks at Yerim, whose face is still flush from the three back to back orgasms she is still recovering from.

"Him or me?," Yerim whispers back, her dark eyes meeting yours with that quiet intensity. She takes you deeper, tasting herself on you, her throat relaxing, and you feel the tip of your cock touch the back of her throat. She pulls back, gasping, then takes you again, deeper this time.

Heejin watches, her hand massaging your balls with the saliva seeping out of Yerim’s mouth. "Both of you," Heejin says with her signature flirty smirk.

Yerim pulls back, breathes, and takes you in again—this time all the way, her nose buried in your pubic hair, her throat working around your shaft. She holds you there for a long, slow count, her eyes watering, her expression serene, and then pulls back with a gasp, a thick rope of saliva and precum connecting her lips to your tip.

"Your turn," Yerim whispers to Heejin, and Heejin grins.

Heejin takes you in with enthusiasm, her mouth hot and wet, her tongue aggressive. She bobs her head with a rhythm that matches her fighting style—fast, powerful, precise. Yerim watches, her hand stroking her own thigh, her breathing quickening. When Heejin pulls back, glistening, Yerim leans in and takes over, her pace slower, gentler, her lips soft and yielding.

They alternate like this—back and forth, back and forth—until you're so hard it almost hurts, your cock throbbing, your balls tight. Heejin looks up at you, her eyes bright, her lips red and swollen.

"Cum for us," she whispers. "Fill our mouths. We'll share."

Yerim nods, her expression earnest, her dark eyes soft.

You cum.

The first rope shoots out and splits between their parted lips, landing on their tongues simultaneously. They moan in unison—a sound that's almost musical—and swallow, but there's too much. Your cock pulses again and again, and they can't keep up. Cum spills from their lips, dribbling down their chins, pooling in the hollows of their throats. Heejin licks her lips, catching a stray drop, and Yerim scoops cum from her chin with her finger and feeds it to Heejin, who opens her mouth happily.

When you finally stop, they're both flushed, their chins glistening, their eyes glassy with pleasure. Heejin leans her head against your thigh and sighs contentedly.

"Mm. Sweet," she murmurs.

Yerim rests her cheek against your other thigh, her breath warm through your skin. She looks up at you with those quiet, dark eyes, and smiles.

Day 31

The night air is warm, thick with the scent of grass and sweat and the unmistakable sweetness of your essence that has become a constant presence among the elves. The camp is set up in a natural depression in the plains, sheltered by ancient stone outcroppings that form a natural amphitheater. The torches cast dancing shadows across the rock walls, and the sounds of the night—crickets, the distant howl of something wild—are drowned out by the sounds of the elves.

Jungeun is on her hands and knees, her toned back arched, and you're behind her, your cock buried to the hilt in her pussy. She's tight—tighter than Haseul was, her inner walls gripping your shaft with a desperate, almost hungry intensity. Her fingers dig into the grass, and she's panting, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders as her body trembles.

"Harder," she whispers, her voice flat but strained. "I need—harder~"

You oblige, your hips snapping forward, and she gasps, her back arching, her walls clenching around you. In front of her, Haseul is on her back, her robes pulled aside, her pussy exposed—slick, flushed, glistening. Jungeun leans forward and presses her tongue against Haseul's slit, licking slowly. Haseul moans—a soft, melodic sound that fills the depression—and her fingers tangle in Jungeun's dark hair, guiding her.

"Right there—oh, right there~!" Haseul breathes, her hips lifting to meet Jungeun's mouth. Her eyes are half-lidded, her lips parted, and she looks up at the scene unfolding—the priest being used from behind, the two of them connected, their bodies forming a chain of pleasure.

Heejin is at your left, her tongue pressed against your nipple. She licks it with slow, deliberate strokes, her breath hot against your skin. She looks up at you with those confident lighter brown eyes, her expression playful, and murmurs, "You taste like honey," before taking your nipple between her lips and sucking gently. The sensation sends electricity through your chest, and your hips stutter.

Yerim is at your right, her tongue on your other nipple. She's gentler than Heejin—her touch soft, almost reverent, her dark eyes watching your face with that quiet intensity she's become known for. She licks, then sucks, then licks again, her breath warm, her lips cool.

The rhythm builds—your thrusts into Jungeun matching the movements of her tongue against Haseul's pussy, Heejin and Yerim's mouths working your nipples in counterpoint. The sounds of the group fill the depression: Jungeun's muffled moans against Haseul's flesh, Haseul's breathless cries, the wet sounds of tongues and bodies connecting, your grunts of effort, and the soft, rhythmic gasps of the elves at your chest.

Then you hear footsteps.

You turn your head and see Jinsoul approaching. She's still wearing her armor, her sword sheathed at her hip. But her dark eyes are fixed on you—on the scene, on your body, on the way your muscles flex as you thrust into Jungeun. Her jaw tightens. Her throat bobs. She stops a few feet away, her arms crossed, her posture rigid.

She watches for a long moment. Her gaze traces the lines of your body—your chest, your abs, your hips, the way your cock moves in and out of Jungeun's tight pussy. Her tongue wets her lips.

Jungeun’s orgasm snaps Jinsoul out of whatever thoughts she was stuck in. She looks down at the priest before turning around to return to the camp.

Day 35

It's been a long, brutal fight. The demonspawn is massive—a towering beast of blackened flesh and bone plates, its body bristling with spines that secrete a corrosive venom. It's been shrugging off Haseul's spells like they're raindrops, its hide shimmering with a dark magical resistance that has rendered Jungeun's holy fire ineffective. Yerim is on the ground, her body crumpled near a boulder, blood seeping from a gash on her temple. Heejin is on her knees, her short sword dragging in the dirt, her powerful body finally pushed past its limits. Jinsoul has been fighting for the better part of an hour, her movements growing slower, her strikes less precise.

But she sees the gap. A seam between two bone plates on the creature's flank, exposed as it shifts its weight. She takes a deep breath before turning to you and presses her mouth against yours. When she pulls back, there is light in her odd eyes again. The rings begin to spin rapidly again and she takes three steps, plants her feet, and swings her hand-and-a-half sword with every ounce of strength she has left.

The blade bites deep. The creature screams—a sound like tearing metal—and staggers. Jinsoul follows with a second strike, then a third, each one finding the gap, each one severing something vital. Dark blood sprays across the grass in hot, black arcs. The creature lurches and swings a massive claw in a wild, desperate arc.

Jinsoul sees it coming. She's too tired to dodge. The claw comes down in a sweeping motion aimed at her head, the wind pressure alone enough to knock her off her feet.

You see it too.

You're ten feet away, your short sword in your hand, your body already moving before your brain registers the decision. You lunge forward, your hand catching Jinsoul's armored shoulder, and you shove her sideways with everything you have. She tumbles across the grass, rolling to a stop, and you take the impact instead.

The claw catches you across the left side of your body. The pain is instant and white-hot—a searing line of agony that cuts through your torso, through your ribs, through everything. You feel your body leave the ground, feel the sickening crunch of bone and the hot spray of your own blood against your face.

The world spins.

You hit the ground hard.

The world goes quiet.

When you open your eyes, you're lying on your back in the grass. You can hear birds. You can hear breathing—ragged, panicked breathing. You can feel pressure on your left side, and when you try to move, the pain is there, but it's… muted.

Jinsoul is kneeling beside you. Her face is above yours, her dark eyes wide with something you've never seen in them before. Fear.

"Jungeun!" she shouts, her voice cracking—a sound so unlike her that it takes you a moment to recognize it. "Jungeun, get over here! NOW!"

Day 36

The room is small but clean—stone walls lined with tapestries depicting the history of the city of Velvet, a single window letting in the pale morning light of early dawn. The bed is soft, the sheets clean, and you're lying in it, your body aching but whole. Your left side, where the demon spawn's claw tore through flesh and bone, is healed—no scar, no tenderness, just the faintest memory of pain. Jungeun's work, you realize. She must have spent every last drop of mana she had left.

Jinsoul stirs at the sound of your movement, her eyes fluttering open. In the soft morning light, she looks different—younger, softer, more vulnerable. Her armor is set aside on a wooden stand, and she's wearing a simple linen dress that you don't recognize—long, flowing, with a low neckline that reveals the pale column of her throat and the sharp lines of her collarbones. Her dark hair, freed from its usual ties, falls around her shoulders in loose waves. Even half-asleep, she's the most striking woman you've ever seen.

She blinks, her dark eyes focusing on you, and the fear is still there—buried beneath layers of composure, but present, flickering in the rings of her Odd Eyes like embers in a dying fire.

"You're awake," she says, her voice low and rough from sleep. She sits up in the chair, which creaks under the sudden movement. "How do you feel?"

"Like hell," you say honestly. "But better than I should be."

Jinsoul exhales—a long, shaking breath that she tries to disguise as a sigh. She looks away, toward the window, where the first rays of dawn are painting the stone walls in shades of gold and amber.

"You saved my life," she says quietly. Her jaw tightens, and she doesn't look at you. "That creature's claw—if you hadn't pushed me—I would have—"

She stops. Swallows. Her fingers tighten on the armrests until her knuckles go white.

"Where are the others? Yerim was hurt…" you ask, sitting up in the bed. The sheets fall away, and you're wearing a simple tunic that someone has put on you.

"Yerim is fine. They are all out shopping. We need to resupply for the next part of our journey. Heejin wanted to find some salt and spices to cook with since you won't be cooking for us anymore. Yerim and Haseul went with her. Jungeun…" Jinsoul pauses as she stretches her back. "Jungeun is sleeping. She used so much mana healing you that she collapsed. She'll be out for a while." Jinsoul motions to the bed next to you where Jungeun is sleeping peacefully.

"What will you do now that your escort duty is finished?" Jinsoul asks, turning to face you fully. Her expression is carefully neutral, but there's a tension in her shoulders. The morning light catches the sharp angles of her face, the elegant V-line of her jaw, the dark pools of her eyes that seem to search yours for answers.

She crosses one long leg over the other, the linen dress riding up slightly along her thigh. Her fingers fidget with the hem of her sleeve—a gesture so unlike the confident warrior you've come to know that it almost makes you forget who she is.

"I… I'm not sure… my family probably thinks I died in the Lunarwoods. I don't think I would want to make the journey back there anyway. Maybe I'll see what jobs I can do around here.. What about you guys? You never told me why the ARTMS unit needed to travel all this way. What's your mission?" You ask, genuinely curious. You've been traveling with these five elves for weeks now, and despite the camaraderie that has formed between you all, you realize you still know very little about their actual purpose.

"We're looking for our friends. There were twelve of us in Loona. Jiwoo told us that she saw Vivi in a town not far from here." Jinsoul explains, her voice carrying a weight of responsibility. "Jiwoo has been traveling finding information that might lead to one of the others. It's how we found out Yves became an adventurer like Jiwoo did."

"I see. Well… I guess I'll figure something out. I'm a pretty good cook and I’ve gotten better with the sword. I'm sure someone around here could use either of those skills." You say, leaning back against the headboard of the bed.

Jinsoul's eyes linger on you for a moment longer. She shifts in her seat, uncrossing and recrossing her legs, the fabric whispering against her skin. There's something she wants to say.

"You're welcome to keep traveling with us, if you want," she says. A faint blush colors her porcelain cheeks. "We could use someone with your cooking. And…" She glances away, a strand of dark hair falling across her face. "The girls like having you around. Think about it. No pressure."

The offer hangs in the air. "We leave in a couple days. If you decide to join us…meet us at the north gate at dawn."

She stands, smoothing the front of her dress, and heads toward the door. But she pauses at the threshold, her hand resting on the frame. Without turning around, she says, "Thank you again..."

Then she's gone, the door clicking softly behind her, leaving you alone with the quiet rhythm of Jungeun's breathing and the golden light of a new morning.

Day 38

The morning air carries the scent of dew-soaked earth and pine as the five elves make their way through the cobblestone streets toward the north gate. Their footsteps echo in a rhythm that has become as familiar to each other as breathing—Heejin leading the pack with her long stride, her brown hair swaying behind her like a banner; Jinsoul walking close behind, her sharp eyes scanning the market stalls with a mixture of boredom and mild interest; Haseul bringing up the middle, clutching a newly purchased bundle of herbs against her chest; Yerim drifting along the edges, her soft eyes taking in every detail of the passing townsfolk; and Jungeun trailing at the rear, her dark gaze fixed on the horizon with that quiet expression she always wears.

"Did you get the salt?" Heejin asks over her shoulder without turning around.

"Two bags," Haseul confirms cheerfully. "And some dried peppers that looked—"

"I guess he's not coming," Yerim says softly, her voice cutting through the casual chatter like a gentle bell. The others slow.

Jinsoul's stride falters. She doesn't look back, but her jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. "He only agreed to escort us this far," she says flatly, her husky voice carrying a practiced indifference. "It was always temporary."

"He could have at least said goodbye," Heejin mutters, though there's no real venom in it. She rolls her shoulders and adjusts the heavy pack on her back, her toned arms flexing beneath her fitted leather top.

They reach the north gate—a massive stone archway flanked by moss-covered pillars—and begin the descent down the long bridge that spans the river outside the city walls. The bridge is wide enough for carts but narrow enough that the guard towers on either side feel close, almost claustrophobic. The river below churns with white water, glittering under the morning sun.

Jungeun looks up from her book and smirks as she spots you in the distance. "Looks like someone decided to join us after all."

Jinsoul freezes mid-step at the top of the bridge, her dark eyes locking onto your figure standing at the far end. Heejin and Yerim run ahead, their faces breaking into wide grins. Haseul clutches her herbs tighter, a warm smile spreading across her face.

Jinsoul takes a breath, steadying herself, and begins walking again—slower now, her posture deliberately relaxed, as if this is exactly what she'd expected all along.

"You were suppose to meet us at the gate," Jungeun says, her voice carrying across the bridge as she approaches, one eyebrow arched with practiced disapproval. A faint pink dusts her cheeks despite her best efforts to look annoyed.

“I was waiting there but I was afraid I missed you.” You confess as Heejin and Yerim kiss both of your cheeks. The duo start looking through the packs you brought with you.

“I’m glad you decide to join us.” Haseul pats your chest and gives her lips a small peck before joining Heejin and Yerim in examining the food you brought.

Jungeun grabs your ass as she passes you by. You yelp in response and you give her a glare as she smirks at you.

You turn to address Jinsoul but as soon as you turn her mouth is on yours. Your kiss with the knight is electric, her hands cupping her cheek tenderly. When she pulls back she pushes you forward. You stumble for a moment as Jinsoul begins giving orders. “Alright. Make sure you didn’t forget anything. We leave in ten minutes.”