Scroll 53: The Whiny Inseminator Elf
Alaster walked through the woods, keeping a sharp eye on his surroundings.
«Damn it. I couldn't afford to get careless.»
He checked the shoulder wound, now wrapped in a loose handkerchief that had finally stopped bleeding. He let out a sigh. The area ached, but at least the hemorrhaging had ceased. A metallic clatter caught his attention a short distance ahead; several goblins were sprinting toward him with weapons raised.
A sudden surge of anger washed over the elf.
«How do I have such terrible luck?! Shit!»
He slightly raised his injured arm and channeled his energy. Three frozen projectiles coalesced in front of him. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he launched them at the monsters. Seeing the incoming attack, the goblins broke formation and scattered in confusion.
"Oh no, you don't! Didn't you want a piece of me? Come on! Don't run, you green vermin!" he yelled, unleashing ice lances without mercy and picking them off one by one as they fled.
Alaster took a deep breath. He pressed forward, keeping an ice lance hovering at each side of his head. He couldn't help thinking that right now he could be eating a hot meal with Jinneth in his arms. Remembering his complicated romantic situation—on top of the physical discomfort tormenting him—only served to sour his mood further.
He maintained a steady pace eastward. The few goblins he encountered ended up impaled by his icy spikes. Checking his magical reservoir, he noted four hundred mana remaining in the ring.
Reaching the crest of a small hill, he spotted the village walls and, beyond them, the main body of the goblin horde. The elf clenched his fist in frustration.
«This is all their fault.»
Suddenly, a group of four goblins burst from a nearby thicket, rushing his position. Before Alaster could react, a dark blur swept past the creatures. All four monsters tumbled face-first into the dirt, their throats slit.
The figure came to a halt beside the corpses. For a fraction of a second, the cloak lifted by the sudden movement revealed well-shaped legs, short pants, and low leather boots. Berona looked at him with a serious expression.
"What happened to you?"
Alaster wasn't in the mood for her mood swings.
"I got stabbed," he replied dryly. He tried to shrug, but the pain stopped him.
The rogue stepped closer.
"Let me see."
"Mmm," Alaster grunted, thoroughly grumpy.
"What's wrong, Al? You look like you drank vinegar instead of water."
"Sorry," the elf said, relaxing his shoulders. "The pain is just mixing with a lot of things. My bad."
Berona offered a faint smile.
"It's fine. I'd be pissed off too if I had a hole in my shoulder. Let's go—the goblins are scattering. We need to get you to someone who can heal that before the real fight starts."
Alaster let out a frustrated sigh. He had almost forgotten that taking down the orc patrol wasn't the main event. Berona slipped under his good arm to support him, and together they set off.
After a short walk, they reached the western entrance of the village. Atop the wooden wall, the defenders watched the field in silence. The horde had pulled back; all that remained were tracks in the dirt, trampled vegetation, and patches of green blood scattered across the field. In the distance, the ice spike formation stood out, painted in crimson.
Alaster stepped through the gate. Deinderatrix appeared from behind them.
"Hey, where were you?" the mage asked.
Alaster looked at her without fully turning around.
"Killing some orcs and getting free acupuncture in return."
Deinderatrix raised an eyebrow.
"You better go get that treated, handsome elf. That terrible mood doesn't suit you."
The elf offered a half-hearted smile. He had spent the entire walk casting spells continuously and had lost his sword somewhere in the forest.
«At least I still have the artifact,» he consoled himself.
Elise and Tagard joined the group shortly after. The red-haired warrior bore multiple cuts across his armor and skin, though none seemed critical. The archer was unharmed, but showed clear signs of severe fatigue.
«Those two are running on empty,» Alaster thought as they walked. «And the golem hasn't even arrived yet. I hope that thing isn't a real problem and is as slow as Norde and Cladis claimed.»
His thoughts were cut short when a carriage pulled up alongside them. The door swung open, and Norde's voice echoed from inside while Cladis leaned out the window.
"Get in!"
Alaster carefully climbed inside and sat next to the village chief. Berona took a seat beside Cladis, while Tagard and Elise settled across from them. The carriage was spacious, but fitting everyone made it a tight squeeze. Due to the rattling of the ride, the elf's limp hand fell onto Berona's thigh. The girl glanced at him sideways, but seeing Alaster gritting his teeth from the painful jolts of the road, she realized it was unintentional.
Discreetly, Berona took his hand and moved it aside. The accidental touch made the rogue look away, slightly flustered.
Norde observed the elf.
"Looks like you ran into a tough enemy."
Alaster shook his head.
"Just a lucky strike."
"You mean unlucky," Cladis interjected.
"No, lucky for that damn orco," Alaster replied with a smirk.
Cladis shook her head, smiling faintly.
Within a minute, the carriage stopped in front of a large building functioning as an aid station. A burly man approached the door. Supported by Norde and Tagard, Alaster climbed down and was guided inside. They laid him on a blanket on the floor alongside other militia members bearing visible torso and limb wounds.
Moments later, a short young woman with dark gray hair and black eyes hurried over. A leather pouch hung from her waist.
"Sir... does it hurt a lot? Can you hold on a moment?"
"I'm fine, but yeah, it stings a bit."
"Y-yes. Forgive me, I ran out of magical energy and I'm still recovering."
The girl pulled out a glass vial containing a bluish liquid and took a quick sip. She then tried to turn around to attend to another wounded soldier, but Alaster stopped her with a raspy voice.
"Hey..."
The girl froze, bringing her low-heeled boots together and clutching the vial against her chest with both hands.
"Could you give me a sip of that?" the elf asked.
"Um... Sir, this... isn't alcohol," the girl replied softly.
Alaster let out a laugh that ended in a wince.
"Ouch... I know. It's a mana tonic. I'm a mage and I need to replenish my pool; I have to fight a golem in less than half an hour."
The girl's eyes widened.
"Huh? Why didn't you say so earlier?" she asked, her voice turning firmer.
She spun around hastily to hand him the vial, but tripped over the legs of a militia member lying beside him. Losing her balance, she fell straight onto Alaster. The elf felt two soft mounds press against his chest, and the contact of her lips against his for a second.
Using her thin arms, the girl pushed herself back, her face entirely crimson. The tonic vial rolled across the floor without breaking. Alaster brought a hand to his shoulder wound—not out of pain, but as an instinctive gesture to signal his injured, immobile state under the girl's embarrassed gaze.
Alaster was wearing only his trousers and the improvised bandages Berona had wrapped around him, having left his leather coat hanging near the entrance. The girl blushed even harder upon noticing it.
«Who is this guy?» the healer wondered.
"I see," she said abruptly, trying to regain her composure.
To Alaster, her angry expression looked completely harmless. The girl picked up the vial without looking at him directly.
"I can give you one sip, but no more. I need it for the wounded."
Alaster nodded.
"If you can seal this wound up soon, I'd appreciate it. That thing could get here any minute."
The elf shifted against the wall. The healer, named Pina, knelt beside him. Just then, the door to the station swung open, and Berona, Cladis, Remis, Syrus, and Norde walked in.
The group froze at the sight. When falling onto Alaster, Pina's dress had snagged on a wooden floorboard, ripping the skirt and unhooking the top strap of her bodice. The light streaming through the door illuminated the pair in a compromised position.
Norde immediately turned on his heel and walked right back out.
"It's not what you think!" Pina stammered, realizing her disheveled state.
She hastily adjusted her clothing. Alaster shook his head at the sheer absurdity of the situation while his shoulder continued to throb. Pina extended her hands toward him; her skin began to emit a warm, golden glow.
The pain in his shoulder gradually faded until it vanished completely. Berona and Remis watched in awe as the open flesh knit together within seconds, leaving no trace of the wound. Alaster rotated his arm to test the joint.
"Incredible... It's like nothing happened."
He sat up, noticing his mana pool beginning to stabilize. Looking back down, he saw Pina remaining on her knees, her gaze distant and her eyes welling with tears.
"What's wrong?" the elf asked, leaning over.
"You got me pregnant... Take responsibility!" the girl sobbed, glaring at him spitefully.
Berona and Remis opened their eyes wide. The torn clothing, the previous position, and the girl's reaction connected in their minds in the worst possible way.
"What did you do?" Remis demanded.
"Nothing! I didn't lay a finger on her!" Alaster exclaimed, throwing both hands in the air.
"You kissed me and now I'm going to have a baby!" Pina cried out, breaking into tears.
Remis frowned, confused.
"Wait... What did you say he did?"
"He kissed me! Waaaa!"
Remis looked at Alaster.
"She tripped and fell on top of me," the elf explained immediately. "Our lips grazed for a second, that's all."
Remis and Berona exchanged a silent look before bursting out laughing.
"You have to take responsibility, Al," Berona wheezed, stepping outside so as not to disturb the sick.
"Better start thinking of a name," Remis added.
"Don't joke about that," Alaster protested.
Remis stepped over to the girl and took her by the shoulders.
"Calm down, sweetheart. That's not how babies are made."
Pina wiped her face with her forearm.
"So... I'm not going to be a mom?"
Remis struggled to hold back a chuckle.
"No. This elf's lips are sterile."
"Very funny," Alaster grumbled.
Remis stood up and gently pulled Pina to her feet.
"Anyway, I didn't come to manage your love life. The golem is close—I came to warn you."
Pina looked up, her voice faint: "I still have to treat the wounded..."
"The chief authorized the use of low-grade potions from the storehouse," Remis replied. "Save your energy for whoever comes in later."
The girl nodded and followed the warrior out of the room.
Left alone, Alaster reached for his leather coat beside the mat. He checked the inner pockets and pulled out the metallic sphere covered in silver runes he had snatched from the orco. He turned it in his hand with a faint smile.
«With this, dealing with that golem is going to be a walk in the park.»
He walked out of the aid station feeling completely restored. His energy bar displayed 1,243 MP; the high-grade potion consumed by the healer and his passive regeneration had fully restored his pool. At the same time, he checked his status notification from the battle in the forest:
Spoiler
< [STATUS] >
Name: Alaster
Race: High Elf
Age: Hidden
Attribute: Space
Level: 16
[Stats]:
Vitality: 420
Mana: 1,780
Stamina: 400
Strength: 24
Dexterity: 24
Resilience: 24
Intelligence: 105
Luck: 99
[Active Spells]
Fire Arrow | Common Rank [F]: Allows the condensation of fire-element mana into the form of a swift projectile. High probability of causing burns. Casts upon creation. [Cost: 10 Mp].
Ice Lance | Common Rank [D]: Shapes frigid mana to project a dense, sharp spike capable of impaling and freezing the target's fluids. Remains static until projected. [Cost: 15 Mp].
Dimensional Space | Common Rank [A]: Creates a subspace where you can store anything you wish, except for living beings. [Cost: 20 - 150 Mp].
Wave of Spikes | Medium Rank [C]: Releases an initial freezing blast that paralyzes enemies, immediately followed by a wave of sharp ice pillars erupting from the ground in a conical area with a medium range of around 15 meters. An alternative usage allows the creation of isolated pillars for a fraction of the cost. [Cost: 350 Mp].
Fireball | Medium Rank [C]: Launches a ball of fire as a projectile that detonates with destructive, explosive force upon impact, dealing massive immediate damage before leaving a burning zone of intense, high temperature in an 8-meter area of effect. Shrapnel damage may apply. [Cost: 400 Mp].
Iron Skin | Medium Rank [C]: Increases the defense of the caster and all nearby allies by 800% for 8 seconds, after which it continues to boost defense by 30% for 15 minutes. [Cost: 150 Mp].
Blink | Common Rank [D]: Teleports the caster to a position under the condition that it is either known or within line of sight. Maximum distance: 10 meters. [Cost: 200 Mp].
[Passive Spells]
Spatial Affinity: Decreases mana consumption and increases efficiency when using spatial attribute spells by 90%.
[Spatial Nexus]
Dimensional Space: Connection with the dimensional space created by the Caster.
[Formations]
Summon Armored Sil-Spider | Common Rank [F]: Summons an otherworldly creature, forming a mental link with the caster.
[collapse]
«At least getting stabbed was worth it,» he thought, heading toward Norde's carriage.
He climbed inside. Norde was waiting in the main seat.
"Have you seen Deinderatrix?" Alaster asked.
The village chief smiled.
"That mage was here until recently. She left with Cladis as soon as they heard you recovered. I think that girl cares quite a bit about you, elf."
Alaster looked away. He knew the mage had an interest in him, but he wasn't sure if it went beyond simple curiosity toward his species.
«When that orc stabbed me, I thought about my past life...» he reflected silently. «It was just lines of code and Jinneth's smile. It's sad, but that was all I had. Well, and Mila, though she wasn't looking for anything serious...»
His thoughts snapped shut as he glanced out the carriage window. At the corner of the market, behind a supply stall, he caught sight of a figure shrouded in a black hooded robe.
"Wait, Norde! That guy!"
"Waaarrrrgggrrr!"
A deep roar echoed in the distance, vibrating the carriage's wooden panels.
"Damn it," Norde said. "It's the golem. It's here! Lord Alaster, we have to stop it from reaching the wall!"
Alaster stared at the spot where the hooded figure had just vanished.
"Istis..." he muttered.
The carriage accelerated down the dirt road. Alaster had to raise his voice over the clatter of hooves and wheels.
"Norde, there's an infiltrator in the village."
"An infiltrator? Impossible! Who?"
"At the orc camp, I saw a black-robed summoner. I just saw someone dressed the exact same way right here in the market."
Norde shook his head while holding onto the carriage handrail.
"Plenty of people wear dark cloaks around here, like Lady Berona. That's a very vague description."
The conversation ended as the carriage pulled up beside the wall access. Alaster leaped down and took the wooden stairs three at a time.
Leaning over the parapet, he spotted the threat out in the field. Hundreds of meters away, a twenty-five-foot stone behemoth the color of beach sand was advancing slowly. It was flanked by several smaller, six-foot rock creatures that moved with far more agility.
Deinderatrix stepped up beside him, holding her glass.
"It's just a formality, elf. Those things are extremely vulnerable to magic."
Alaster surveyed the scene in silence. The summoner's presence inside the walls meant the battle was only just beginning.