Chapter 161 The Fellowship Of Eight
"My Lord?" The Alpha Werewolf bowed his head slightly in greeting, his bemusement evident on his face. He hadn't expected to see Ikaris again so soon.
"The rest of our lessons have been cancelled." The youth stated factually. "I've decided to move up our plans from this weekend to today. Did you find any volunteers? If not, it's okay. It's just exploration for this afternoon. Discretion is key."
Liam's brows creased with determination as he heard that his Lord's plans had been changed.
"If I give them the order, my entire pack will come, but if I must prioritize skill, I recommend only three people besides myself. Ezrog and his squad wanted to come, but I refused. These ogres make formidable warriors, but discretion is not their strong suit. Besides, Last Saint must be protected."
Ikaris nodded calmly, having nothing to complain about. "So with Malia and I, there will be six of us. Enough to handle a bunch of skeletons, but not so many that we'll get spotted."
Kailu, the newly recruited Healer, was listening to their discussion casually and suddenly blurted out,
"Seven. I'm coming. If any of you are seriously injured by an Undead or some other creature, there's no guarantee that you'll be able to reach the village in time. On the other hand, I have awakened the Life Element. I'm not afraid of a few skeletons."
Ikaris wavered. He had just promised Asselin that he would take care of his cousin.
"Ignore what Asselin may have told you." Kailu scowled in contempt. "It's not like you can handcuff me and keep me a prisoner in the village, can you? Last Saint... I can see your ambition now. You're more arrogant than me, hehe."
"Besides your healing magic, can you fight? Can you travel over rough terrain without making a sound?" Ikaris questioned sternly instead of returning his dig at him.
"Please." Asselin's cousin sneered. "Who do you think taught Asselin to hold a sword? A dead Healer is of no use to his teammates. I may not be the best warrior, but my ability to stay alive is number one."
Ikaris stared at him intensely as if he wanted to bore through him with his eyes, then sighed with a resolute look, "Seven it is, then."
"One more thing." Liam stopped him.
"What now?"
"I have an eighth person to recommend. This morning, among the summoned was a rare gem. Ruvaen, an elven ranger. He died in a war with humans so he might be hard to convince, but those who hunted with him this morning say he is extremely skilled. Overqualified, so to speak."
"Hmm. Really?" Ikaris fell silent.
The appearance of a sullen forest elf popped into his head. Despite the loyalty enforced by the Stele, the elf did indeed seem to be unhappy to be here. Perhaps he should have used his Appraisal Spell on him before heading to the Academy.
"Where is he?" He asked.
"The hunters returned a few minutes before you did. They should be in the workshop next to the butcher shop and the tannery skinning and cutting up the meat."
"I'll go there now then." Ikaris declared. "We'll meet back here in an hour. Eat first."
Kailu wanted to accompany him out of curiosity, but Ellie pulled him by the arm to take him to Plume's cottage for an introduction. Before his arrival, she was the only villager with healing abilities. Apart from them, Xuk, the Orc Warlock had a knack for apothecary and herbalism. They would have to work closely together in the future.
For the time being, Last Saint had a very basic organization. The workshop where the hunters dropped off their morning game was in fact a modified thatched cottage produced by his Stele. The smell of fresh blood reeked from inside and that's why those in charge of cutting up the meat preferred to do it in the open air away from the village so as not to disturb the rest of the residents.
Nardor and Liam were doing their best to restructure the village and build the missing facilities but it would take time. In the meantime, they had to make do with these minor inconveniences.
Not finding him in the workshop, Ikaris looked for the grouchy elf a little further, where the field of flowers was painted with dried blood. The place where the Rank 4 Magical Boar had been slaughtered and dissected had become the favorite place of Last Saint's hunters and butchers until they could find something better.
The irony of it all was that the flowers watered daily with Demonic Beasts' blood were growing fantastically well. In particular, the ones that drank the Magical Beast's blood were twice as tall as the others, their blooming time having had a renewed vigor despite the approaching autumn.
After looking for him for a while, Ikaris finally found the elf among the hunters, but he was not cutting up the game with them. His scrunched-up face showed his immense disgust for the meat and his fellow hunters.
Reminiscing what the literature said about forest elves, the teen realized that this one might be a vegetarian. Perhaps letting him join the hunting team was a mistake.
"You should be Ruvaen. I am Ikaris, the Lord of this village." He walked over to the elven ranger, offering his hand.
The man had a rather dark complexion, with rather unobtrusive pointed ears, large green-brown eyes, and long, silky smooth blond-green hair hanging down his back. Ikaris didn't know when, but the elf had braided a few strands of hair around his own head to adorn himself with a hair tiara. He wore the basic equipment provided to Last Saint hunters and warriors: leather armor, a short iron sword, a knife, and a well-made short bow. Most of it had been purchased the day before at Lord's Paradise.
Seeing the handsome boy's outstretched hand in front of him, Ruvaen's gaze lingered on it for a few seconds, then he lost interest. He did not shake the hand.
Not the least bit embarrassed, Ikaris retracted his hand and smiled, "You are as Liam described you. You don't hold humans in your heart."
"Are you human?" Ruvaen snorted.
"I guess you could say I was." The teenager gave a small laugh, then his face suddenly turned icy. "I don't care why you hate humans. If you're here, it's because for some reason your soul was wandering around this planet. That's how the Stele works. Time passes differently here, and it may have been hundreds of years in your old world since you arrived here. In this world, there is discrimination between races, but not in my territory. If you can't adapt, you are free to leave. I will pay for the Transportation Portal to Tartarus Shade. If not, I have work for you."
The elf's face distorted, in deep dilemma. Ikaris had no trouble guessing the reason. The Stele's subconscious influence was affecting his own beliefs. Even if he knew about it, he might not be able to block it out of his mind.
Yet the elf remained undecided for a long time. If his hatred had not reached unprecedented levels, then he must have a good Soul Strength. Scanning him, he was able to confirm his suspicions.
[Name: Ruvaen Lurona]
[Race: Forest High-Elf]
[Occupation: Sacred Warden]
[Loyalty: 55 points]
[Realm: Novice Sorcerer]
[Life Spark lvl1: 16.6]
[Soul Spark lvl3: 22.6]
[Divine Spark lvl1: 0.018]
[Talent: S]
[Evaluation: An elder elf over 800 years old. Though he has lost most of his powers, his affinity for Nature, Life, and his elven talents have been retained. He hates anyone who disturbs the tranquility of his native forest. He died protecting it, but the energy of the forest protected his soul when he passed away.]
Jackpot! This was the first time an Otherworlder displayed S-talent. Most impressive was his Soul Spark. Not its value, which was still lower than his and even Kellam's, but its level. It was already lvl 3. Not even Danchun, who had been a powerful Cultivator, had been able to preserve her soul like this.
A lvl3 Soul Spark had a great significance: He could consciously mobilize his Spirit Energy.
'800 years...' Ikaris muttered. He wondered who was older between this elf and Danchun. He didn't dare ask her for fear of being shaken.
In the end, the influence of the Stele overcame the elf's willpower. Or maybe his hostility was only directed against the enemies of his home forest. But now that Ikaris knew what mattered to the elf, he sealed the deal with a nonchalant grunt,
"If you join Last Saint, I will give you authority over the forest of your choice once Cutthroat Island is conquered. You can do whatever you want with it and dictate the rules of those who roam it."
"I will hold you to your promise." Ruvaen smiled as he held out his own hand this time.