Rustle rustle~
The nearby bushes stirred, leaves whispering. Whether from the breeze or something else, Ronan couldn't tell at first, but his senses sharpened. The usual calm vanished, replaced by alertness. His posture shifted, muscles tensing, eyes narrowing.
The vast forest had thus far proven empty of human life. No travelers, merchants, wanderers, or even bandits, only endless trees and their inhabitants. Yet, it teemed with life, strange, powerful beasts. Saber-toothed tigers had stalked him, griffins soared overhead. This world's ecosystem was different; everything was larger, stronger, more magical.
This was another world.
"Coming out?"
His voice, steady, cut through the stillness. He waited, eyes fixed on the rustling bushes. Silence returned.
He stood, brushing off grass and bark. His clothes were simple, practical, garments suited to wandering. He drew his longsword, found days ago, inexplicably lodged in a cave stone. The unmarked blade was razor-sharp, perfectly balanced, its craftsmanship unparalleled. Holding it felt strangely familiar, though he knew it wasn't originally his.
He cautiously approached the bushes, senses alert. A flicker of memory stopped him. He activated his x-ray vision, the foliage becoming transparent.
He saw a small girl, or, looking closer, a small girl with pointed ears, crouched, holding a basket.
Pointed ears? An elf?
His brow furrowed. The connection was instant. Elves in his past life were always portrayed the same way: elegant, aloof, long-lived, and identified by their pointed ears. Goblins sometimes had pointed ears too, but…
There were no goblins this pretty.
Tension eased. He approached, no longer on edge. His assumption proved correct.
"An elf… lost while gathering herbs?" he murmured, eyes on the girl. "Such a shy one…" His voice was low, "Makes sense; long-lived races are often few, lacking social skills. Or maybe she's afraid of humans?"
She was small, slender, delicate, perhaps a teenager by human standards, but Ronan knew better. With elves, age was deceptive.
He could understand her language, Elvish, not through magic, but inherently. His appearance remained unchanged, yet things had shifted upon arrival. Knowledge he hadn't possessed before came naturally. Elvish was… common.
The girl stirred, head low, eyes downcast. She didn't meet his gaze. Her grip on the basket tightened. She looked ready to bolt, yet something held her still.
He guessed what it was, village elders' warnings to avoid humans, especially men. She might not even know why, but she obeyed. Until now.
He realized she was hesitating, unsure, fearing his intentions. He wouldn't press her.
He spoke calmly. "I understand. You want me to help you get home, right?"
He paused, then added apologetically, "Unfortunately, I'm new here too, and don't know the area well."
He continued, "But… never mind. Do you know which direction your home is? Or even a general area? I've been here long enough. I've finally met someone… or something…" he chuckled, "Elf, what's your name?"
She raised her head. Her long white hair fluttered, catching the light. Her features were delicate, her expression blank, yet graceful. She seemed to weigh her decision.
Then she spoke. "Frieren."
Her voice was soft and flat, like a quiet stream. There was a stillness to her, a calm detachment.
After a brief silence, she looked at him properly. Her pale eyes focused. Then, curious but guarded, she spoke, "Human, what is your name?"