Eldralis..the name of this world which servers as a pyground for the gods and their cruel games

  For centuries, humans and demonkind have waged wars, but in the end…

  A hero chosen by a god arose.

  For a while, hope burned bright… until the so-called hero betrayed us all. By doing what no hero should ever do—losing.

  Well, technically, it was doomed from the start. I should have paid more attention to the signs.

  Now, let me tell you exactly how this happened.

  My name is Fiona, and I am a witch who lives with my grandmother on the outskirts of my vilge located in the edge of the Amerian kingdom

  No, the vilge chief did not banish my family for being magic or evil. It’s just a lot easier for us to collect herbs when we are closer to the forest. Also, it’s good for business.

  Most of our customers were elven forest rangers, travelers, vilgers, and the occasional mage coming to get some magic ingredients.

  Anyway, let’s just fast-forward to the part where this whole screw-up started.

  It was just another normal day I was busy gathering ingredients for my portions with Cyrus in the nearby woods

  Cyrus is a friend whom I’ve known since childhood. (I mean, I’ve known him since he was a baby. Now that you mention it, I also knew his father since he was a baby… and his grandfather as my ex-bo… I mean, good friend.)

  He’s cute, strong, skilled with a sword, and knows a bit of magic—perfect for helping me collect materials in the forest.

  Nothing too dangerous—just oversized boars, some lesents (murderous mutant shrubs), and the occasional goblin ambush.

  “Monsters are getting more aggressive. Strange, right?” Cyrus hand-signed to me after we cleared out a bunch of goblins.

  Right, forgot to mention—Cyrus doesn’t really talk. At all. He’s mute.

  “So that’s why the potions are selling so well,” I realized.

  “I think it’s worrying,” Cyrus replied.

  “Really how many goblins have jumped you this week?” I swung my basket as we walked

  Cyrus sighed and held up a one finger closed his first and held up four fingers.

  I whistled. “fourteen times? Wow. That’s a new record.”

  ”Bad timing,” he signed.

  “Bad timing? Cyrus, I’ve been with you every time. They always go for you first. It’s like they know...monsters hate you”

  Cyrus gave me a ft look. ”You’re short. They don’t see you as a threat.”

  I gasped. “Rude!”

  ”Accurate.”

  I huffed. “Oh, sure, bme my height instead of your terrible luck.”

  Cyrus ignored me.

  I smirked. “Remember st week? That nest you stumbled into? You barely made it out with your pants.”

  Cyrus rubbed his temples like he was getting a headache.

  I grinned. “Face it. Goblins have something against you.”

  Rustling in the bushes.

  We both stopped.

  I slowly turned my head. “…You have got to be kidding me.”

  ---------------------———————————--

  "Fifteen now this is really getting not normal 'Cyrus signed wiping the blood off his bde

  “Eh, you worry too much. The elven rangers guard this pce. They have centuries’ worth of experience in hunting and are skilled mag—”

  An elf girl fell from the sky—right on top of me. Painfully.

  I y on the ground.. annoyed

  Not because I was hurt—no, just annoyed that my ribs now felt like they’d been stomped on by a troll. Annoyed that this elf girl had dropped out of the sky just when I was praising them(and preparing a really good joke on Cyrus)

  It reminded me of that time in the vilge when every snot nosed brat would randomly portal or shift on you or your furniture until the anti-shift field was set up in the school

  The elf girl groaned, sitting up and shaking her head like a wet dog. Her long ears twitched as she focused on us.

  “Ow,” she muttered. Then she looked down at me—still under her—frowned, and sighed.

  "Oh. Guess that expins why I'm not dead." She said it like an afterthought, as if crushing me had been an unfortunate but acceptable consequence.

  I gave her a long, ft stare. “Wow. You’re welcome. Really. It was my dream to experience an elf falling on me.”

  Feya finally stood, stretching as if she’d just woken up from a nap. “Better than hitting the ground.”

  I scowled. “Not for me.”

  She just shrugged. “You survived.”

  I narrowed my eyes. Oh, I already didn’t like her.

  “What happened?” Cyrus asked, signing to the elf girl

  She dusted off her brown tunic, adjusted the straps of her twin short swords, and spoke like she wasn’t still seeing double.

  “Ogre attacked my patrol… a big one. I got too close, and it threw me really far.”

  “Ogre?” Cyrus signed, frowning. “That’s… bad.”

  “No kidding,” I said, rubbing my ribs. “Also, what do you mean ‘we’? Where’s the rest of your—”

  As if on cue, a distant horn echoed from the forest. The elf girl’s eyes widened.

  “They made it to the outpost,” she said. “We need to go. Now.”

  And so, we ran.

  ---

  By the time we reached the wooden outpost, the battle was clearly over. Rangers were slumped against walls, some getting bandaged up, others groaning in pain. A few arrows y broken on the ground, and there were way too many thorny vines and ice shards for my liking.

  I dug through my satchel, fingers brushing past gss vials. “Ugh, I swear, I lose money every time I do this.”

  Cyrus raised an eyebrow.

  I pulled out a small red potion and held it up to his face. “Do you know how expensive these are?” I shook it for emphasis. “The ingredients alone cost a fortune. And then there’s brewing time, magic infusion, proper sealing—”

  "You never buy any of the ingredients used in it " Cyrus signed, ”Just use it,it cost you nothing to make it anyways”

  I gasped. “How dare you?” I clutched the potion to my chest. “Do you think these grow on trees?”

  ”Some of the ingredients do...like the pipberry,fva buds..”

  I really regret teaching him about herbs sometimes

  “That’s not the point!” I argued “Do you have any idea how much these things sell for? If I threw this at someone, it would be like tossing gold at their face.”

  Cyrus made a thoughtful motion. ”Maybe we should sell them instead of using them.”

  I blinked. “Wait. That’s… actually a good idea.”

  We stared at the potions.

  Then at the wounded elf rangers.

  Then back at the potions.

  I sighed. “Damn my conscience.”

  And just like that, there went my profits.

  One particurly exhausted elf with a deep gash across his arm looked up as we treated him

  “Feya! You’re alive.”

  The elf girl—Feya, apparently—nodded. “Yes I am. What’s the situation?”

  “Bad.” He gestured toward the forest. “The ogre was tough. We pinned it with arrows, used magic, even tried poisoning it before it ran away.”

  “Great,” I muttered. “So, a strong ogre.”

  “It’s not an ogre,” Feya argued. “Normal ogres normally end up very dead from a full-force assault by an entire outpost.”

  I crossed my arms. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

  Feya hesitated. Cyrus watched her carefully, arms folded, waiting for her to say something stupid.

  Sure enough, she did.

  “I want to go after it.”

  Cyrus ughed. A full, genuine, this-girl-is-crazier-than-me ugh.

  “You what?”

  Feya stood firm. “That thing is too dangerous. If we let it roam free, it’ll eventually attack another patrol, or worse, a vilge.”

  I blinked. “Right. So instead of waiting for reinforcements, you want us—a talented witch, a swordsman, and an already injured ranger—to go after it?”

  “I took a potion. I am fine,” Feya argued.

  I stared at her. Then at Cyrus. Then back at her.

  I considered my options.

  1. Go home and sell health potions to the injured rangers and let them handle it. (Safe, responsible, and profitable.)

  2. Go to the vilge, inform them about the situation, and then go home. (Less profitable but still safe.)

  3. Chase after a terrifying, possibly-not-an-ogre monster with two people who think survival is optional. (Dumb. Suicidal. Absolutely going to regret this.)

  I sighed. Of course, I was picking the dumbest option. "Fine, let’s go."

  “This is not a good idea we should wait for backup” a voice cut in

  The voice was nervous, hesitant—like its owner already knew he’d be ignored.

  I turned to see a young elf ranger, barely older than Cyrus(If a Elf looks younger then twenty then their age is what they look like) gripping his bow like a lifeline.

  He had short, light brown hair was messy, and his green cloak was stained with dirt and sweat while his eyes flickered between us and the forest, clearly debating whether to argue further.

  Feya sighed. “Come on, Rennal. You know we can’t just sit around.”

  “Yes, we can,” Rennal argued, shifting uneasily. “Reinforcements will be here by morning. If we track the ogre now and things go wrong, we’ll be the ones needing rescuing.”

  “That’s why we’ll be careful,” Feya countered.

  Rennal ran a hand through his hair. “Feya, you got thrown across the forest. We barely drove it off, and that was with an entire outpost backing us up.”

  He turned to me, clearly hoping I had some sense. "Tell them this is a bad idea.”

  I hesitated.

  Technically, he was right. Waiting was the reasonable choice.

  I gnced at the injured rangers, the broken arrows, the sheer exhaustion on their faces. This outpost wasn’t winning a second fight.

  Then I looked at Feya—stubborn and reckless. At Cyrus—already ready to fight

  I sighed. “I almost considered it.”

  Rennal’s expression brightened. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” I patted his shoulder. “But then I remembered I make terrible life choices.”

  His hope died instantly

  Cyrus gave me a look that said, "This is why we’re friends."

  The elf girl gave me one that said, "Your opinion was never relevant in the first pce."

  That’s how our journey started.