At some point during the battle—or perhaps earlier—he had lost the helmet that once protected him. His legs were pierced by several arrows, rendering him unable to stand. Yet, without a doubt, the most severe wound was the one in his chest, dangerously close to his heart.
Driven by urgency, the man didn't hesitate to call out to the one responsible for this tragedy, whose arrogant smile widened as he toyed with his opponent. Without a second thought, he fired at him. However, the bullet missed its mark.
"Ah!?"
Startled by the abrupt blast against his back, the elf quickly spun around, ready to retaliate against the treacherous attacker. But unlike the humans he had previously fought, this man dodged his precise strikes with surprising ease.
"You!"
The elf shouted, brimming with indignation.
His neon-green eyes burned with scorn at the man who dared interrupt his duel. Clutching his bow tightly, his face twisted in rage; he was enraged by the shameless audacity of a being he deemed inferior daring to challenge him.
Spurned by the females of his kind, the elf had found a twisted delight in the war: here, only his worth as a warrior mattered. In this place, he could revel in his superiority, savoring the spectacle of humans crumbling beneath his feet.
That was why being caught off guard by a mere human's attack filled him with sheer indignation.
Determined to take this next fight seriously, he readied himself to teach the foolish human running toward him a lesson. He mimicked his opponent's move, letting his weapon fall to the ground. Then, while unsheathing a sleek rapier strapped to his waist, he traced cryptic gestures with his free hand, just in front of his face.
A faint lime-colored light emerged from his fingers, followed by a gentle gust that stirred the fine, greenish strands of hair falling over his brow. Lips curled into a mocking smile as he watched his adversary's stern expression, who clearly had no idea whom he was facing.
But, before he could gather enough mana to fully manifest his power, the man accelerated without warning, erasing the distance between them in the blink of an eye.
'Fast!'
The thought flashed through his mind, even more shocked now than when his barrier had been broken.
At first, the elf had been convinced that this human would fall just as easily as the previous soldier he had fought. After all, he trusted that the precautions he had taken would be more than enough to deal with someone wearing the same uniform as the one who hadn't posed the slightest challenge.
But now, as he witnessed the man's speed, he realized his mistake: he had ignored the warning his queen had given prior to their people's departure from the safety of the forest, underestimating his opponent without meaning to.
Watch over your safety. Do not underestimate the humans, for within them sleeps a terrifying potential.
Regret tore through him. His grave miscalculation hit him like a stone.
'How could I not see the obvious?' He should have retreated, avoided close combat, a realm where his kind had no advantage. Their strength lay in distance, in agility and dexterity, not in direct clashes.
He had made a terrible mistake; one that would cost him dearly.
In the very moment the man grasped the elf's intentions, he took a deep breath and began channeling mana through his body—just as a dear friend had taught him long ago.
As soon as he felt the warmth rising from his torso, he repeated the process he was already so accustomed to. By channeling that energy into his legs, he propelled himself far beyond the limits of his worn frame would normally allow.
It took him only three seconds to cover dozens of meters, closing the gap to barely seventy or eighty centimeters from his target, who was still stunned by the unexpected turn of events.
Thus, the elf was utterly unable to defend himself from the brutal strike that came next: a powerful blow from an open palm that sent him flying a dozen meters away, skidding to a halt only when he dug his hands into the mud to stop his momentum.
The armor he wore—more ornamental than functional—didn't absorb a shred of the impact. He coughed up blood and saliva as he fell to his knees, one hand buried in the sludge, the other covering his mouth in a vain attempt to stifle the bleeding. Every breath was agony, the dented breastplate pressing against his chest. But he didn't have time to remove it because his opponent was already charging at him again.
Thanks to the partial manifestation of the nature spirit he had attempted to summon just moments earlier, the elf managed to shield his head just in time to avoid a fatal blow when a vicious kick forced him to his feet.
The bones in his arms creaked under the impact, and the searing pain made him bite his lips until they bled. Still, refusing to squander what might well be his last chance to survive, he gathered every ounce of strength left in his battered body and attempted a desperate backward leap.
His goal was clear: to escape and seek help from his comrades, fully aware that the internal injuries he had sustained left him in no condition to face this brutal human.
But of course, reality rarely aligns with one's desires, and what he longed for was something the soldier had no intention of allowing.
The moment the man saw the tremor in his enemy's eyes, years of battlefield experience told him exactly what would happen next. The moment the elf tried to call upon the natural agility of his kind to flee, he thrust out his dominant hand and seized one of the armor's ornamental decorations.
With devastating force, he crushed the metal adornment between his fingers. Then, in an explosive motion, he hoisted his arm and hurled the bewildered being into the air, veins bulging along his forehead from the strain.
Without a moment's pause, he bent his knees, muscles tightening, and leapt after him like an arrow loosed to hunt its prey.
Dazed and overwhelmed by hopelessness of his situation, the elf could offer no defense against the man's fist as it hurtled straight toward his face.
"My queen..."
That was the last thought he managed to articulate before his head was smashed into the ground, releasing a sickening crack as fragments of bone and blood splattered in all directions.
[Congratulations, you have defeated a Golden Elf. You have obtained 562 Valor Points. You have obtained a pair of Tactical Gloves with Conductor Knuckles. You have obtained a Basic Stealth Cloak. You have acquired a Minor Range Elf Radar. Remember to claim your rewards at the headquarters of your choice.]
Once the battle had ended in a decisive victory, the man shook the blood from his fist.
Then, turning in the direction he had come from, he patted his aching neck and sore shoulders.
The fight had lasted only a few seconds, but the strain on his body was undeniable. While he was used to pain, his senses felt dulled and his limbs heavy, as if every muscle in him were silently begging for a rest he couldn't afford to take.
Ignoring those pleas, he walked over to the rifle he had dropped on the ground and called out loudly to the soldier lying not far from him:
"Hey, you still with me?"
"Lieutenant... sir?"
The young man responded, his vacant gaze fixed on the sky, now dyed red by the flames devouring part of the plains.
"Lieutenant? Me? Ha! What a compliment, kid! No, no, no… I wish. Sadly, I'm just a private, same as you. The old geezers upstairs refuse to give me a promotion."
He chuckled, though his voice carried a bitter edge.
"But hey, enough about me. How are you? Can you sit up on your own, or should I carry you like a princess all the way back to the rear lines?"
Trying to lighten the mood with forced cheer, the man adopted a friendly tone, though his frown remained as he checked the state of the complex device now covered in mud.
"I... I... I'm fine, just a bit tired."
"Oh? Well, as you can see, this is not exactly the best place to take a nap, but... ah, forget it. You can rest for five minutes, soldier. In fact, don't even worry about keeping watch; I'll stay here with you while I fix this piece of junk. And if any enemy dares come close, I'll kick his ass just like I did with that bastard elf. So go ahead, sleep like you're home. But no dirty dreams, alright? I don't wanna hear that kind of stuff from a guy next to me."
Keeping the tone light, in stark contrast to the chaos around them, the man spoke as he sat down on a nearby rock.
"Thank you, Lieutenant... I... I trust you... In that case, I'll take a quick nap... I'm sorry, Ume... I'm really sorry..."
With those ephemeral words, the young man, whose features hinted at Asian heritage and looked no older than twenty, closed his eyes to rest as a solitary tear slid down his left cheek.
"..."
The old soldier clenched his fists in silent grief.
No matter how many times he witnessed the death of a fellow, their passing always hit him hard, as if each one marked a small victory for the enemies who had caused so much suffering.
He was tired of all this.
But in moments like these, there was nothing left to do but clean the faces of the fallen and take some of their belongings to bring back to headquarters. There, the logistics team would deliver the grim news to their families.
Although... this time, even that felt meaningless. After all, depending on how this conflict ended, there might not be anyone left to receive it.
Letting out a deep breath, he stood up from the rock, wondering how many times he had sighed in the past few hours—or at least, he tried to stand, because before he could fully rise, a powerful tremor shook the entire battlefield, knocking him back down, landing squarely on his rear in the mud.
Yet getting dirty was the least of his concerns, as his attention instantly snapped to the source of the quake.
The roar of colossal beasts silenced everything around them, if only for a few seconds. A tense stillness followed, filled with awe and uncertainty, until the dragons made their move—only then did cries of both joy and terror sweep across the plains.
A new enemy of humankind had arrived. The dragons had descended, heralding the beginning of the end for this war of annihilation and survival.