Love Letter From The Future

A knife is always honest.

Unlike tongues, it cannot be swayed by lies. When the sword is drawn and begins to carve its trajectory through the air, a silent proclamation is made.

It’s the signal of a life-or-death duel.

An agreement where nothing but killing and being killed matters. Mercy is unnecessary, and misplaced sympathy only leads to mistakes.

At least, that’s how it was in the Northern Region.

Sir Alex seemed to have grasped this truth through long experience. Despite being clad in heavy armor, his strides across the snow were swift and precise.

The sound of stomping boots barely echoed.

An extraordinary charge at an unimaginable speed. Before long, he was standing before a thick coniferous tree.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, his next attack followed.

It wasn’t a refined, intricate movement, but rather a raw, wild trajectory.

And yet, that was more than enough.

A shrill scream emanated from high above. An elf scout hidden among the coniferous leaves plummeted to the ground.

Sir Alex didn’t even glance at the falling elf.

Instead, he simply reached out with one hand and grabbed the elf by the skull.

Then another crack sounded, and it was all over. The elf’s face slammed into the ground, crushed mercilessly without even the chance to scream. It was a clean and swift death.

Blood and brain fluid pooled atop the pristine snow, the only evidence left to testify to the elf’s demise.

His movements betrayed not a shred of hesitation. If left to his own devices, no elf would survive against Sir Alex.

That must not happen.

It wasn’t just about being in front of Abiyang; I needed information, and the fate of elves meant nothing to me. I’d taken countless heads before in the name of various missions—monsters with names, mages hiding in orphanages, and recently, servants of the Demon God.

Capturing elves wouldn’t bring me honor. If anything, I’d just end up annoying the Holy Lady.

If anything, capturing the elf alive would be the better option.

My sprint was just as swift as Sir Alex’s.

Through my hypersensitive awareness, I caught faint traces of movement. They were so subtle that, at a glance, the breathing sounds seemed to blend into the environment as though part of the landscape.

Come to think of it, so had Abiyang. Even though there was no hostility, I’d failed to notice her hiding behind the tree. It was a sensation I’d never felt while within the brick walls of the Academy.

Perhaps elves naturally suppress their presence when surrounded by nature.

While forming such a hypothesis, I kicked off the ground with brute force.

Her pupils revealed a flood of thoughts behind the disbelief.

This isn’t normal human agility.

It’s impossible.

A wrong step.

The elf’s assumptions were not incorrect.

In a single leap, I had soared several meters into the air. Knights who had reached the rank of expert universally possessed such monstrous strength.

Superhumans who could be counted in the hundreds across the entire continent.

The group of elves who had run afoul of two such beings could only describe their misfortune as the worst possible scenario.

The elf attempted a desperate counter at the last moment, but it was futile the moment our eyes met.

She tried to draw her bowstring, but then froze, her gaze darting elsewhere.

There was nothing left where her arm should have been—only a gush of blood spurting out.

“Ah… gahk…!”

It was a blow that struck before she could even scream.

Screaming would risk attracting monsters lurking in the coniferous forest. Although the risk was minimal, it was always safer to exercise caution.

The elf woman collapsed limply and fell toward the ground.

The ground was cushioned with snow and soft moss. Despite her slender frame, this fall wouldn’t likely be fatal.

Not that it mattered much.

Simultaneously, I deftly caught a flying arrow hurtling toward me.

A late scream erupted.

“Emily!”

It was another elf woman.

She glared at me with venom, clenching her teeth and leveling a fierce volley of arrows.

Three of them.

I couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity.

“How could she fire three arrows at once with that bow…?”

At that very moment, a peculiar air current brushed against my senses.

A gentle breeze, contrary to the fierce northern wind.

Something wasn’t right.

Quickly, I sheathed my sword. The three arrows, defying normal physics, suddenly veered and surged toward me in bizarre arcs.

With the arrow I had caught, I deflected the first one.

Then, grabbing the second one mid-air, I used it to knock the third away before flicking it back toward the elf.

The elf, though startled, quickly regained her composure.

Had I been a regular swordsman, I might have been in trouble now.

I would have had to at least retreat to the ground for a moment.

However, the elf’s misfortune was that I was no ordinary swordsman.

In fact, throwing knives were what I specialized in.

With a splatter, blood sprayed into the air like fireworks.

Before the elf could react, I exploited the principle of momentum to return the tomahawk I had thrown. The elf woman’s tensed muscles prevented her from letting go, causing her body to tilt slightly as she tried to counter.

Then she fell.

As I leapt down, I caught the returning tomahawk mid-air and approached the elf.

At a glance, the elf’s reconnaissance group consisted of four members. Two seemed less skilled, while the other two appeared to be the leaders.

At least, they were the only ones who could put up some semblance of resistance.

Still, none of them stood a chance against Sir Alex and me.

Sir Alex appeared to be finishing off the remaining reconnaissance team. As I exhaled, my breath dissipated into the cold northern air.

“Do you want to live?”

“Shut up…!”

Despite her strong will to survive, the elf woman’s eyes burned with hatred.

Her body shuddered under the pain radiating from her wounded shoulder.

Her voice trembled as it escaped through clenched teeth, rising in pitch with an almost unbearable intensity.

Hot enough to melt the snow under her gaze.

“You scum, you think I’d beg for my life from the likes of you?! If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be in this situation…!”

“If you had won, the same would have happened to us.”

I steadied my slightly ragged breath and lowered my body to meet her gaze.

Her eyelashes fluttered, a clear sign of her emotional turmoil.

“Still, you’re lucky you met me. I’m not from the North. If you give me the information I need, there’s no need for us to have a grudge… I’ll let you go unharmed.”

“Cough—spit!”

A mixture of blood and saliva sprayed from her mouth.

She clearly wanted to spit in my face, but lacked the strength to even reach me.

I sighed deeply.

And then, without warning,

She let out a muffled scream, writhing her arms and legs. She tried to grab a dagger with her remaining hand, but to no avail.

I easily disarmed her as though handling a child’s wrist.

“Ugh… Ahhhhhhh…!”

Though muffled by the ground, her anguish reverberated silently through the void.

How much time passed?

I once again pulled her head up by her hair.

Pure fear now replaced the defiance in her eyes.

“I won’t harm you if you stop resisting. I promise… However, if you keep fighting, I won’t know what I might do.”

Not just you, but your entire group.

Though unspoken, the warning was implicit in my tone.

The elf woman hesitated.

Even this single reconnaissance group reflected the deep rift between humanity and the elves, far worse than anyone could have imagined.

Still debating whether to slam her head into the ground again, I was interrupted.

With a sharp gasp, a cry of pain sounded.

Both the elf woman and I quickly turned our attention to the source. There lay an elf man, collapsed in a pool of his own blood.

Before him stood Sir Alex.

His hand was empty, having dropped his sword at some point during the fight. Perhaps on purpose.

The gauntlets covering his fists were drenched in blood. The elf’s face, swollen and battered, clearly showed he had suffered an merciless beating. When the elf tried to slowly retreat, Sir Alex stooped and picked up the sword again.

The action that followed was obvious.

A pitiful wail erupted from the elf woman.

“Ma.. Martis…!”

The sound of her voice was heartrending.

It was so choked with despair that even Sir Alex paused briefly to glance at her. The elf woman showed a more intense reaction to her companion’s plight than her own life was in danger.

But Sir Alex paid her no mind.

Like an executioner cutting the rope on a gallows, he prepared to swing his sword.

Just then, I noticed someone in my peripheral vision.

Abiyang.

The frail maiden was dashing desperately toward us. Her desperate expression conveyed her single-minded determination to stop Sir Alex, even if it was futile.

She couldn’t use magic; she was bound by the restraining device. If she dared to utter an activation word, her head would likely explode.

Yet she kept running.

As the sword traced its decapitating trajectory, and the elf woman and Abiyang shared a look of despair…

The collision had generated enough force to spark a small flash of flame. Sir Alex, caught off guard, staggered momentarily before regaining his balance.

His puzzled gaze turned toward me.

It had to be.

The one who stopped him wasn’t just me—it was the tomahawk I had thrown.