St Chaos Healer

Ch 101 - The Immu Tribe

Luc stood on guard, and I stayed just behind him, tense as a drawn bowstring. His hand rested on the hilt of his short sword, eyes darting through the misty forest, scanning every rustling leaf and swaying branch.

The fog clung tightly to the forest floor, and for a moment, the only sounds were the whisper of wind and the occasional rustle above.

Then—movement.

At first, I thought it was animals, but then I caught a glimpse of humanoid silhouettes, flitting through the treetops like squirrels. In mere seconds, we were completely surrounded.

Then came the sound that made my stomach twist—the creak of taut rope, dozens of them, strained and ready to snap.

I looked up.

Figures perched in the canopy, bows drawn, arrows aimed directly at us. Their expressions were unreadable, but their posture screamed one thing: lethal intent.

"Hey, it seems you guys are as vigilant as ever," Luc said casually, raising one hand and stepping forward. "Calm down, it's just ol' me—"

He froze mid-step.

Three arrows struck the earth exactly where his foot had hovered a second before, each with a force that cratered the ground and sent dirt scattering.

If even one of those had hit flesh... there wouldn't be anything left to bury.

Luc arched an eyebrow. "Now, is that any way to treat a guest?" His tone was amused, but his eyes were cold and calculating.

The mist began to thin, revealing more of our would-be ambushers.

And what I saw left me stunned.

Their skin was pale and flawless, their features sharp and regal. Every one of them carried themselves with silent pride. Their bows glimmered with mana as elemental energy danced along the arrowheads.

And then I saw the ears—long, pointed.

Elves.

The real thing. Not drawings in books, not stories from dusty scrolls.

I'd heard about them all my life, but none of those stories prepared me for this.

Their welcome, however, was as warm as a blizzard.

A wave of déjà vu hit me like a slap. Hostility was becoming a theme in my travels.

Luc, meanwhile, looked utterly unfazed. Probably because this kind of reception was all too familiar to him.

Raising his hands in mock surrender, he called out, "Greetings getting more hostile every year, huh? After everything I've done, this is still the treatment I get?"

The elves didn't so much as flinch. If anything, the crackling of mana intensified. They weren't aiming to scare us. They were ready to kill.

"Oi, Luc," I muttered under my breath. "You might actually get us killed this time."

Luc sighed dramatically. "Relax! I'm not here to collect heads today. No bounty hunting. Can't we lower the bows just a little?"

The standoff held.

Then, finally, one of the elves lowered his bow and stepped off the branch.

He leapt with practiced grace, kicking off the tree trunks as he descended until he landed before Luc, silent as snowfall.

He was tall and lean, a single eyepatch covering one eye, a scar cutting across his cheek. Everything about him—from his poise to his steely stare—spoke of battles survived and blood spilled.