Chapter 780: Angry Elf
Orion, ever perceptive, noticed the elf’s intense stare and nudged Findir with his elbow. "We’ve got an admirer," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper.
Findir opened one eye and followed Orion’s gaze, his brow furrowing slightly as he caught sight of the elf. "Seems more like a death stare than admiration," he whispered back.
Luna and Aisa also took note of the elf, exchanging a glance. Aisa leaned in closer to Luna. "He doesn’t seem too happy we’re here."
"Doesn’t matter," Orion said, his voice steady. "Let him glare. We’ve got bigger problems than an angry elf."
Still, there was no denying the tension in the air as the elven man continued to watch them, his red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. He said nothing, but the presence of the leopard at his side only added to the sense of danger that clung to him like a shadow.
...
Orion’s eyes flickered open in the dead of night, the dim light from the distant torches casting long shadows across the stone prison. He hadn’t slept at all, his mind too sharp, too calculating to allow any rest. The others, trusting in his ability, slept soundly in their makeshift beds, unaware of the subtle tension that hung in the air.
His gaze drifted across the sleeping forms until it settled on the figure in the corner—the elf with long black hair and deep red eyes, the same one who had been glaring at them earlier. The elf was moving now, creeping silently towards Findir’s sleeping body. His movements were slow, deliberate, and filled with a deadly intent that went unnoticed by the rest of the group. The leopard that had been by the elf’s side earlier was circling Findir, its gaze fixed intently on its target.
Orion’s eyes narrowed as he watched the elf’s hand slip towards his waistband, retrieving a makeshift shank. The elf’s expression was one of cold determination, his bloodlust carefully concealed from all but the most discerning eye. Yet, despite the danger, Findir and the others remained blissfully unaware, their senses dulled by exhaustion and the trust they placed in Orion’s vigilance.
Just as the elf raised the shank, preparing to strike, Orion’s expression hardened. With a mere thought, he activated his [Flesh Manipulation], targeting the elf’s leg. Instantly, the muscles in the elf’s leg cramped, locking up in excruciating pain. The elf staggered, his body betraying him as he collapsed to the ground, the shank slipping from his grasp.
The leopard, sensing its master’s distress, began to panic, nuzzling and pawing at the elf’s chestplate in a futile attempt to comfort him. Orion watched with cold detachment, his eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. The elf’s plan had been thwarted before it could even begin, and as the rest of the group continued to sleep, Orion stood up.
Orion stood slowly, his movements fluid and controlled as he approached the elf writhing on the ground. The leopard growled lowly, its eyes darting between its master and Orion, but it dared not attack, sensing the overwhelming power that radiated from the man before it. Orion’s gaze remained cold and unyielding, his expression a mask of detached curiosity as he crouched down beside the elf.
The elf’s face was contorted in pain, his leg muscles twisted and locked in place by the invisible force of Orion’s [Flesh Manipulation]. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breath came in ragged gasps, but still, he glared up at Orion with a mix of defiance and hatred.
"Why were you going to attack Findir?" Orion’s voice was calm, almost conversational, but there was an underlying edge to it that made it clear he expected an answer.
The elf gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing with anger. For a moment, he seemed to consider staying silent, but the intense pain coursing through his leg made the decision for him. "He’s a dark elf," the elf spat, his voice laced with venom. "No matter what he looks like now, I can see it. I can feel it. And all dark elves must die."
Orion’s expression didn’t change, but he tightened his grip on the elf’s muscles, intensifying the pain. The elf gasped, his body convulsing as the agony surged through him. "Why do you believe that?" Orion pressed, his voice still eerily calm. "Why must all dark elves die?"
The elf’s eyes blazed with fury, but beneath the rage was a deep-seated fear. "They’re monsters," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Corrupt, vile creatures that bring nothing but death and destruction. They cannot be allowed to live. I swore an oath to hunt them down, to eradicate them wherever they hide. And that one—" he jerked his head towards Findir, "—he’s no different. He’s just hiding behind a human facade."
Orion’s gaze flickered over to Findir, still sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the danger he had just narrowly avoided. He looked back at the elf, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And what makes you so sure that Findir is a dark elf?"
The elf’s lip curled in a snarl. "I have hunted them for years. I know the signs. The way they move, the aura they carry... it’s unmistakable. That one is hiding, but he cannot fool me."
Orion regarded the elf in silence for a moment, his mind working through the information. He could see the conviction in the elf’s eyes, the burning hatred that had driven him to this point. But he also knew that this hatred was irrational, rooted in fear and prejudice.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Orion released the hold on the elf’s muscles, allowing him to collapse fully onto the ground. The elf groaned in relief, his body trembling from the aftershocks of the pain. The leopard immediately moved closer, nuzzling its master with concern.
"You’ve made your point," Orion said quietly, his tone carrying a finality that brooked no argument. "But if you ever try something like this again, I won’t be as merciful."
The elf looked up at him, his red eyes still burning with hatred, but there was a flicker of something else as well—fear, respect, perhaps even a grudging acknowledgment of Orion’s power.
"I will do what I must," the elf muttered, his voice low and filled with bitterness. "But I will not forget this."
Orion stood, his eyes never leaving the elf. "Neither will I." With that, he turned and walked back to his place, leaving the elf to nurse his wounded pride and aching muscles. The prison remained silent, the tension hanging in the air as Orion settled back down, his mind already working on how to deal with this new complication.
As Orion walked back to his place in the stone prison, the shadows from the dim torches danced around him, flickering in and out like the thoughts swirling in his mind. He kept his expression composed, his steps steady, but as soon as he settled down, he glanced down at his hands.
They were trembling, almost imperceptibly, but enough for him to notice. A slight quiver ran through his fingers, a lingering side effect of the strain from using [Flesh Manipulation] on a being as strong-willed as the elf. It was a reaction he had grown accustomed to over the years—his body’s way of reminding him of the limits he constantly pushed.
Orion clenched his fists, willing the trembling to stop, but the subtle tremor persisted. It wasn’t fear that made his hands shake; it was the aftershock of exerting control over a force that could easily turn the tables if given the chance. The elf had been a formidable opponent, and while Orion had managed to subdue him, he knew deep down that it had been a close call.
He hadn’t backed down because of mercy; mercy had nothing to do with it. No, Orion had relented because he wasn’t entirely sure if he could defeat the elf in a full-blown confrontation. The man was strong—far stronger than he had initially appeared—and Orion couldn’t afford to engage in a battle where the outcome was uncertain. The trembling in his hands was a stark reminder of that uncertainty.
But it wasn’t just caution that had stayed Orion’s hand. As he stared at the faint tremor, his mind began to turn over the possibilities. The elf’s hatred, and his determination to eradicate dark elves, could be a powerful tool if wielded correctly. Orion had seen that burning conviction in the elf’s eyes, and he knew that such a force could be directed, manipulated, and turned to his advantage.
Orion’s hands gradually steadied as his thoughts took on a sharper focus. He had let the transgression slide, not out of weakness, but out of strategy. The elf could be useful in the future—an ally or, at the very least, a pawn in whatever game Orion decided to play.
As the trembling subsided, Orion’s gaze grew colder, more calculating. He would keep a close eye on the elf, biding his time until the moment came to turn that hatred to his own ends. For now, he would let it go, but only for a moment.
