Chapter 73: Never Give Up
During this time, although it hadn't been fed meat, the Ghoul Chieftain's body had become plump thanks to the ample supply of soybean cakes. Its expression had lost the ferocity of their first meeting, looking a little simple-minded and losing its savage edge.
Facing the incoming greatsword, the Ghoul Chieftain couldn't put up any meaningful resistance. It merely instinctively recoiled a bit, and the Temerian Blade passed between its ribs, piercing its heart.
Its body gave a violent tremor, casting a resentful glance at Arthur, seemingly condemning his exploit, before its head slumped weakly onto its chest. A vortex of light energy erupted from the Ghoul Chieftain's body. Before it could dissipate, it was sucked into Arthur's body, like falling leaves near a whirlpool. Toruviel was astonished to see that the greatsword-wielding man, who had looked half-dead with fatigue just moments ago, now appeared completely recovered, every inch of his skin glowing with the sheen of ample rest.
However, despite his excellent physical state, Arthur's expression was rather gloomy. According to his original plan, the Ghoul Chieftain could have reinforced them with at least two more waves of Ghoul Warriors easily netting him twenty or more progress points. No, counting the Chieftain itself, it should have been over thirty points!
But now, with Dandelion captured, he had to quickly recover his strength to rush to the rescue, forcing him to prematurely slaughter the goose that laid the golden eggs the Ghoul Chieftain!
These elves are truly damnable!
[Unyielding Force: 96/100, decimal points ignored]
When the familiar text appeared, the anger in Arthur's heart boiled even higher: So close, just a little bit more! If this attack had come a few days later, allowing him to fatten up the Ghoul Chieftain a bit more, he might have successfully unlocked the Dragon Shout!
That horse-riding elf, you truly deserve to die!
Arthur grabbed a rope and walked toward Toruviel. The female elf's cheeks were flushed. She averted her head and whispered: "Elves respect the right of the victor to dispose of the spoils of war. But… could we go inside the carriage? I'm not used to being watched by a group of people… Ah!"
Arthur felt that this elf seemed to have misunderstood something crucial…
Ignoring her babbling, Arthur quickly tied the rope around the elf, securing her with a Four-Horse-Knot (a complex binding). Throughout the process, the elf offered no resistance, only emitting a muffled groan or two when the rope tightened uncomfortably.
Arthur was so flustered by her moans that he tossed the elf into the carriage the moment he tied the last knot and turned around: "Let's go! Before those pointy-ears get too far! We have to save Dandelion!"
"I knew I was right about you!" Zoltan gave him a thumbs-up, praising him: "From the first time I met you, I knew you'd be a good mate!"
Kolgrim spoke in the tone of a seasoned veteran: "Actually, you don't need to be that anxious. The area ahead is dryad territory, and they won't let the elves run wild. Besides, during the fight just now, I noticed four flaws in Zoltan's axe-fighting style. He'll surely be at a disadvantage against a true master. I'll go teach him on the side first…"
Arthur suddenly understood, his face flushing red, and he stomped his foot: "What kind of person do you take me for?! Saving him is the priority! How can we waste time on such things?"
"Tch, always boasting. Could it really take that long, though?" Although Zoltan grumbled, he was cooperative, coming over to help unload the carriage.
Their draft horses had been killed at the start of the conflict, and they were left with only the elven warhorse. They had to lighten the caravan. They unloaded all non-essential luggage and also dismantled the canopy the thing couldn't stop arrows and was just dead weight when traveling through the forest.
But when it was time to leave, they ran into a new problem: the elven warhorse was extremely resistant to the harness, shaking its head and pawing the ground, absolutely refusing to take a step forward.
"Goddammit! Elven gear is all looks and no use!"
Zoltan cracked the horsewhip with loud snaps, threatening the warhorse:
"You idiot! If you don't pull this wagon properly, I'll leave some marks on your pretty hide with this whip!"
The warhorse tossed its head, neighing fiercely, then continued to violently paw the ground.
"Don't hit it!"
Seeing her beloved companion about to suffer, Toruviel struggled and wiggled her way to the edge of the wagon bed:
"I know how to make it behave."
The elf pursed her lips and blew a beautiful melody. The warhorse whinnied once more and actually began to step forward.
"Thanks. This way, you can get back to your comrades sooner too."
The moment the words left his mouth, Arthur realized something was off this creature was one of their recent attackers! He couldn't help but shake his head. Too many modern habits still clung to him; saying thank you for help was a conditioned reflex.
"Hmph, I don't need a human's thanks!" Toruviel shot Arthur a glare and wriggled away to the other end.
What a difficult woman.
The site of the attack wasn't far from the forest. It didn't take them long to reach the spot where the elves had launched their ambush.
This wood was predominantly oak, yet the trunks were as thick as ancient banyan trees, and the canopy above was a continuous, dense carpet. Innumerable animals frolicked and darted about.
"Mother of mine, this forest is thick enough to choke on. Witcher, have you ever been in this place before?"
Walking amidst the throng of life, Arthur felt completely ill at ease. Zoltan, meanwhile, looked like he had insects crawling all over him.
Fortunately, he was soon distracted by a perfectly straight branch:
"Ha! That branch is beautiful! I'm going to mount it on my axe!"
The Dwarf was just about to swing his sword to cut the branch overhead when Kolgrim raised a hand and stopped him:
"Don't mess with it! This is dryad territory!"
He explained to the Dwarf and Arthur:
"When I was younger, humans and dryads had a period where they tried to coexist peacefully."
"Back then, the dryads allowed humans into the forest to gather berries, mushrooms, and herbs, provided they obeyed two rules: no lighting fires, and no cutting trees."
"Unfortunately, as the elves were defeated and retreated, the kings started to believe they were entitled to every inch of land in the world, and the harmonious relationship between humans and dryads vanished."
Zoltan put away his sword, staring longingly at the receding branch:
"Hearing you say that, I'm reminded of a story the Elder used to tell about a bunch of green hags living in the forest, treating the trees like family…"
Thwack!
Before the Dwarf could finish his sentence, an arrow suddenly sprouted from the wagon bed.
The fletching wasn't the usual goose feather used by humans, but the beautiful plumage of a pheasant. This was an extremely nimble bird, and even a seasoned hunter didn't succeed every time.
Arthur looked up in the direction the arrow had come from. A slender woman was standing on a tree branch, bow drawn and aimed at them.
She was dressed in clothes woven from bark and vines, her hair casually tied back in a ponytail, giving her a very spirited and capable appearance.
However, her face and any exposed skin were the color of sun-kissed wheat, not the green that Zoltan had spoken of.
She was human.
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