Accidental Elf: My Passive Allure is Ruining My Plans

The stone leviathan lumbered forward at a sluggish pace while its minions—golems nearly six feet tall—were pelted by a relentless hail of arrows.

In front of the wooden wall, dozens of archers fired without pause. The massive creature was still far off, but Norde stood atop the parapet, shouting at the top of his lungs.

“Keep firing! Target the spawns!”

Alaster covered his ears. The village chief had a pair of high-powered lungs.

All around them, the sharp snap of releasing bowstrings formed a metallic chorus. Hundreds of projectiles cleaved through the air, raining down upon the lesser golems. The giant golem resembled a hedgehog from the sheer number of shafts embedded in its body, though the stony material repelled them after a moment without taking real damage.

Alaster watched the commotion, perplexed for a second. The wind blew hard, the sun was sinking fast, and the sky glowed in shades of orange. Sunset was reaching its peak.

I can’t let this drag on. Once it gets dark, the archers will be useless. Time to earn my keep.

The elf locked his gaze on the distant target. As the cool air fluttered his clothes and arrows hummed through the sky, Deinderatrix’s gorgeous figure nestled up beside him.

“Well now, handsome... are you going to do something? What’s your plan...?”

She offered him a radiant smile. Her lips were painted a dark purple and her eyes were framed in deep shadow, giving her the aura of a seductive witch.

Now the nickname she had in the guild made total sense to Alaster: the Fire Witch, or the Untouchable Witch. She had appeared right beside him wearing an extremely low-cut dress and a red skirt with a high slit that exposed one of her smooth legs.

Alaster felt her hands clinging to his arm. They were delicate, with long, well-manicured nails.

“Well... I guess attacking is my only plan right now, but...” Alaster looked away.

A few paces over, Berona held a small crossbow, firing with complete concentration.

“Berona,” the elf called out.

The thief looked up, lowered her weapon, and stepped closer.

“Remis,” Alaster added.

The warrior woman, who had been staring intently at the distant giant, turned her head. She was standing right next to the mage.

“What’s up, Al?”

Alaster reached into his leather coat and pulled out the metallic orb.

“We can use this to prevent casualties.”

Deinderatrix tightened her grip on his arm and let out a soft chuckle.

“You retrieved the orc artifact! Good move.”

Alaster lowered his gaze to meet hers. The mage’s face was wearing a wide grin full of admiration. For a brief second, her sweet scent, stunning looks, and praise made him feel a pang of pride.

Wait... she’s laying it on thick. There’s no way someone wipes out those orcs and leaves behind a valuable artifact—she’s just flattering me.

He knew better, yet having a beautiful woman clinging to his arm and showering him with sweet words certainly stroked his ego. He decided there was no harm in enjoying a small victory and the company of a pretty friend, so long as it didn’t go to his head.

“When I went to deal with the orcs and their barrier, I had to take a detour behind their lines,” the elf explained. “Over there, I ran into a summoner in black robes.”

He glanced at Deinderatrix, who was the most likely person to know who the cultist was or what organization he belonged to. Seeing her puzzled expression, Alaster continued:

“I couldn’t capture him because I couldn’t risk alerting the orcs, but I infiltrated their camp and found some documents. They talked about securing sacrifices, and his magic was weird—he was summoning orcs.”

“What?!” the mage gasped, instantly letting go of his arm.

Alaster nodded.

“Yeah, the papers mentioned Crame. Sounds like their deity.”

Deinderatrix’s eyes widened in shock. She took a few steps back, her high heels clicking against the wooden parapet as she muttered under her breath.

“Now it makes sense... He must be the one responsible for the coordinated attack.”

She turned around, her leg slipping through the slit of her skirt. Resting a hand on her hip, she flashed Alaster a smirk.

“Good thinking. Those documents could end up being important.”

The elf couldn’t help but smile back.

“Right. But I saw that guy just a little while ago right here in the village on my way to the wall. Somewhere between the aid station and this spot.”

The mage looked over at Remis and Berona.

“You two better stay close to Al. I’ll talk to the chief so the guards can brace for a sabotage attempt.”

Alaster stared at her with a face full of questions. She simply added as she began walking away:

“That’s how those demonic cultists operate. I know their kind. Taking out that thing should be a walk in the park for you. Finish it off and then come help me search.”

And off she goes, the elf thought.

“Alright, I have a plan,” Alaster said, handing the artifact to Remis. “With this, if anything threatens the wall, we can stop it.”

Remis took it with a grin.

“Got it. I’ll trigger it if things get dicey.”

Alaster nodded and turned his attention to the thief.

“I need you to cover my back, Berona.”

He figured if a cultist ambushed him while he was channeling magic, he’d be dead meat. Berona didn't say a word, but immediately stepped up behind him to take guard.

“The plan is dead simple: I just knock down the main golem. Once that’s done, we move in to clean up the smaller ones and any goblins still looking for trouble.”

In the distance, scattered bands of goblins were skirmishing with the village militia. They were no longer the overwhelming horde they had been before.

“Alright, let's wrap this job up.”

Alaster turned fully toward the distant giant and extended his hands. His ring had fully charged while he was talking with the girls.

Fire swirled before him. The blazing sphere began to condense under his magic power, crackling inward as it compressed toward the center.

Out on the battlefield, Syrus charged forward and bashed a goblin with his shield, sending it crashing to the dirt.

He pulled his shield aside and decapitated the creature in a single sweep while it scrambled to get up. Beside him, a village girl holding a wooden shield cried out:

“These things just keep coming!”

Men and women formed a solid wall. The scattered goblins couldn't push through; they simply lashed out with their swords against the shields, which opened up every so often just long enough for the defenders to thrust their blades before pulling back into cover.

Further ahead, Tagard swung his greatsword down, landing a heavy blow right on a golem’s shoulder.

The six-foot creature didn't even flinch. The warrior felt his hands go numb from the impact against the solid stone. Although he managed to crack the rock, bringing its health down to $935/1200\text{ HP}$, his blade bounced off with a shower of sparks.

Tagard leaped backward just as the golem swung its long arm in a sweeping attack; the gust of wind from the strike caught him off guard.

“The strength on these things is no joke...” he muttered through grit teeth.

He took another side-step, dodging out of the way. The golem failed to notice another man behind it, who landed a heavy strike with his longsword. They were whittling it down through sheer numbers and relentless strikes.

Suddenly, both Tagard and the rest had to scatter.

The massive hand of the main golem slammed down right where they had been standing a second ago, crushing its own lesser spawn beneath its palm. The warriors watched in terror as the towering construct—the size of a four-story building—sluggishly pressed forward.

“What the hell is that elf waiting for?!” the red-haired warrior bellowed impatiently.

His words were cut short when a militiaman shouted to the group:

“Look! We’re being ordered to fall back, fast!”

“What? But we’re clearing out the small golems!” another called back.

“I don't know why, but I ain't sticking around to find out!” the man yelled, turning on his heel to sprint back toward the wall.

Tagard watched the man run and caught movement up on the wooden structure: a crimson flash followed by a projectile tearing through the air, leaving a trail of roaring flames in its wake.

His heart skipped a beat.

“Run!” he tried to shout, but he was alone. The rest of the warriors had bolted a second earlier.

He took two massive strides before something roared past right over his head, striking the giant stone mass head-on.

The shockwave from the explosion lifted Tagard off his feet, tossing him several yards forward through the air. He watched the ground rush up as his legs pumped to catch his balance in midair. He landed hard on both feet and threw himself into a roll to absorb the momentum.

Coming to a stop against a pair of heavy boots, Tagard looked up to see Syrus staring down at him.

“What are you doing down there?” the tank asked, offering a hand to haul him up.

“What happened...?” Tagard asked, dazed.

Syrus lowered his shield to the dirt, resting it against his leg. He looked utterly drained. He gestured with his chin for Tagard to look ahead.

Turning around, Tagard saw nothing but a smoking heap of shattered rocks.

“It’s over,” Syrus said, his voice flat and weary. “I’m gonna need another bath.”

He glanced down at his shield, which was splattered in green blood. Tagard stooped down to retrieve his fallen greatsword from the dirt and trotted off toward a group of fleeing goblins. Syrus just shook his head.

Back up on the wall, Alaster had a wide grin on his face.

“Headshot!” he laughed. “Did you see that?”

“You’ve got pretty good aim for a playboy elf who tricks young girls,” Remis deadpanned.

Alaster’s smile faltered, but he shot right back:

“You’re just jealous. Don't worry, I’ve got sterile lips for you too.”

Remis chuckled and shook her head, but froze when the artifact in her hands vibrated violently.

She snapped into a defensive stance, instantly putting the rest of the party on high alert. The barrier around them flared to life, turning opaque toward the east where it had just absorbed an impact.

When they looked over, they saw nothing—only the rippling energy of the impact, without having heard an incoming attack.

Alaster scanned the surroundings until his eyes caught Istis perched up in a wooden watchtower. The man in black was pointing a short wand straight at them, his face twisted in sheer rage.

“You damned long-ears! You had to ruin everything!” he shrieked, a fraction of a second before realizing the barrier had neutralized his stealth attack.

Alaster grinned. In his line of sight, Istis wasn't alone.

Deinderatrix appeared right behind the cultist, her staff in hand as she glanced around as if searching for something.

“You think this is over?! This is just the beginning!” Istis screamed in fury at the elf.

Behind him, Deinderatrix crouched down, vanishing from Alaster’s sight for a split second. When she stood back up, she was holding a heavy wooden plank.

The elf burst out laughing as the mage smashed the piece of wood straight over the cultist’s head, knocking him out cold. She casually tossed the leftover stump aside.

A moment later, more men showed up at the tower to drag the unconscious cultist away. The mage leaned over the railing, looked in Alaster's direction, and gave a cheerful wave. Alaster just shook his head at the ridiculous sight.

Remis, lacking the elf's sharp vision, narrowed her eyes until it finally clicked.

“Is that the guy you were talking about?”

“Yep, that’s him.”

Berona crossed her arms, looking annoyed.

“At least we caught him. Now... what’s this about you having lips for Remis?”

Alaster blinked, completely missing her point.

“I was just joking...”

Why the sudden attitude? he wondered. Is she jealous? No way, there’s no chance she has feelings for me. That’s ridiculous.

Remis stepped in, approaching the thief and giving her a gentle nudge.

“Drop it, we’re just messing around.”

The elf’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he relaxed.

Aha... I get it now. That’s why I have such good banter with Remis. That dominant vibe, the jokes, the casual trust... she’s basically one of the guys.

Alaster shook his head to clear his thoughts.

I shouldn't jump to conclusions, though. They might just be really close friends.

“I’m heading out,” the elf said.

Remis and Berona turned to him.

“Why?” the thief asked.

“I...” Berona looked like she was about to apologize, but Alaster cut her off.

“No, it’s nothing like that, Bero. I’m not that fragile. You don't have to say anything, we’re good. I just need to go find my sword—I think I dropped it back there. Besides, our job here is done. You two should head back to the cabin.”

Berona stared at him for a second with puppy-dog eyes. Alaster clicked his tongue.

“Tsk. Go get some rest. I’ll catch up with you later.”