The Lost Hero

At the border between the elven forests and the beastkin plains, the air felt different. Thick with the scent of moss and the whispers of wind, it was a place neither realm dared to claim fully.

And there, beneath the dappled sunlight filtering through emerald leaves, lay a man. His body, battered and bloodied, was sprawled across the forest floor. His bare chest rose and fell faintly, his breaths shallow. The only thing covering him was a pair of pale golden pants—torn at the knees, streaked with dirt and dried blood.

That man was Alexander.

A faint breeze stirred the leaves above, carrying the distant sound of birdsong and rustling branches. Somewhere, water trickled—a nearby stream. But around Alexander, silence clung like a blanket, as if the forest itself held its breath.

His fingers twitched. Slowly, painfully, his eyes fluttered open.

"…Where…?" he croaked, his throat dry as sand.

Everything hurt. His arms were scraped, his ribs ached, and his head throbbed like someone had slammed it against stone. He tried to sit up but collapsed back with a grimace.

Fragments of memory danced in his mind: a blinding flash… a tower of light… the roaring voice of Lucian… and then—nothing.

Lucian… Pride…

"…I lost?" he whispered, bitterly.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. Alexander's instincts flared. He forced himself onto an elbow, wincing as he glanced up—

Small feet. Not an adult. Not a warrior.

Golden eyes wide with curiosity stared down at him. Pointed ears poked through messy auburn hair. The child tilted their head, clutching a woven basket filled with berries and herbs.

"…A… kid?" Alexander croaked, disbelief washing over him.

The child stepped closer, concern flickering across their delicate features. Their mouth moved, speaking something soft and melodic—words Alexander couldn't understand.

Elven tongue…?

Alexander clenched his jaw, forcing his aching body to move. With a grunt, he rolled onto his side, pushing himself up with trembling arms. His legs wobbled beneath him as he stood.

"Stay back," he warned, staggering backward, raising a shaky fist.

The child flinched at his movement but didn't run. They simply stood there, eyes wide, murmuring more words he couldn't decipher.

Alexander's breath came hard and fast. Sweat dripped down his brow as he retreated, his back hitting the rough bark of a tree.

"…It's just a kid," he muttered, his pulse slowing slightly.

Still—he couldn't lower his guard.

The child spoke again, louder this time, stepping closer with an outstretched hand as if offering something from their basket.

Alexander shook his head. "I don't… understand you." He pointed at his ears, then his mouth. "Do you understand me?"

The child blinked, then giggled softly, shaking their head.

"…Figures," Alexander sighed.

The child grabbed his hand gently and pointed down a narrow path winding deeper into the woods, beckoning him forward.

"…You want me to follow?"

No answer—just an innocent tug.

Alexander hesitated. "This could be a trap." He glanced at the distant sky, painted in shades of dusk. "But… staying here's worse."

He let the child lead him, gripping his side with every painful step.

The trees thinned. The faint scent of smoke drifted in the breeze. Voices.

Ahead: houses of pale wood and woven vines nestled into the natural curves of the forest. Lanterns glowed softly along winding paths.

A village.

The child tugged him excitedly—but as they stepped into the clearing, everything stopped.

A group of elves stood at the path's edge—tall, armed, cloaked in green and brown. Their bows were already drawn, arrows aimed directly at him.

Alexander froze.

"…Oh."

The child ran ahead, waving her arms and calling out in rapid Elvish. The guards lowered their bows slightly, eyes narrowing at Alexander as they exchanged tense words.

Then one of them stepped forward, hand resting on his sword hilt. He barked a sharp question.

"I… I don't know what you're saying," Alexander replied, raising both hands. "Look, I'm not here to fight."

The elf repeated the question, louder.

Alexander sighed. "Still don't understand you."

One of the younger elves sprinted back toward the village, calling something over his shoulder.

"…He's calling for backup," Alexander muttered.

The others surrounded him, cautious, bows still half-drawn. Their words were sharp, urgent.

Minutes passed. His legs shook. His vision swam.

A figure approached from the houses—a tall elf, silver hair braided over one shoulder, robes shimmering faintly under lanternlight. Runes lined the fabric, pulsing softly.

The guards stepped aside.

The elder studied him. Then spoke.

And the words untangled in Alexander's ears—like his brain finally catching up.

"You… are not of our land," the elder said calmly. "Yet you stand at our gate, wounded, unbidden."

Alexander exhaled shakily. "You… I can understand you."

The elder's lips curved faintly. "Of course. I speak the tongue of men, though it's been long unused."

The child peeked proudly from behind the elder.

"…Guess I owe the kid for that," Alexander muttered.

"Come. We will tend your wounds," the elder said. His gaze sharpened. "And then… you will tell me how a human fell from the skies at our border."

Alexander froze.

"…From the skies?"

The elder smiled. "Oh yes. We saw the light."

Alexander's throat went dry.

Lucian… Pride… the battle…

And as the elves led him into the village, he couldn't shake the feeling he'd stepped into a story older than himself.

---

TIMESKIP

The sound of a door creaking open stirred Alexander awake.

Soft candlelight flickered across carved wooden walls. He was lying on a simple bed, his chest and arms wrapped in clean white bandages. Despite the wrappings, his muscular frame showed through—broad shoulders, hardened abs beneath gauze, scars from battles old and new.

A small gasp made him turn his head.

At the doorway stood a young elven servant girl, holding folded clothes in her arms. Her sky-like blue eyes were wide, cheeks flushed slightly pink as she stared at him.

Alexander blinked, confused. "…What?"

She quickly lowered her gaze, stepping inside cautiously. "Forgive me, sir. I…I was ordered to bring you clean clothes."

He tried to sit up, wincing. "Thanks."

The girl hesitated, sneaking another glance at his bandaged form before setting the clothes down by the bed, her ears twitching nervously.

"....." she murmured something in the ancient language under her breath.

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

But she only shook her head and hurried out, leaving him alone with the soft glow of lanterns and the weight of unspoken questions.

Alexander leaned back with a sigh, closing his eyes as if entering a different world, he followed through. Studying his inner body. Most of his bones which were ones broken were now magically healed, his Qi was still depleted. He sighed, twice by now.

"…Guess I've still got a long way to go."

And outside, under the watchful gaze of the elder and his people, the forest stirred once more—whispers rising with the wind.

---

The next morning came gently. A faint warmth drifted in from the open window, the scent of dew and flowers filling the room.

Alexander opened his eyes, blinking at the ceiling of wooden beams woven with ivy. His body still ached, but the deep soreness had faded into a dull throb. He swung his legs off the bed, feeling the cool touch of the polished floor under his feet.

His clean clothes from yesterday—loose-fitting elven tunic and dark trousers—were folded neatly on a nearby chair. He dressed quietly, testing his movements. Not perfect, but functional.

A soft knock at the door.

"Come in," he called.

The same young servant girl peeked inside, her sky-blue eyes peeking shyly under her bangs. "Um… good morning, sir. The elder wishes to see you… but you may walk around if you wish first. I'll find you when he's ready."

Alexander gave a small nod. "Got it. Thanks."

She smiled faintly, bowed, and disappeared.

Alone again, Alexander took a steady breath and stepped out into the hallway.

The castle—or rather, the grand hall of the elven enclave—stretched before him, its walls lined with pale wood and carved vines, elegant arches curving into domed ceilings where soft crystals glimmered like stars. Stained glass windows scattered gentle colors onto the polished stone paths beneath his feet.

Alexander wandered slowly, each step echoing softly. He passed rooms filled with scrolls and glowing runes; balconies overlooking waterfalls cascading through the heart of the tree. Somewhere distant, laughter of elven children drifted through the air.

He paused at an overlook, gazing down at a courtyard where warriors sparred with wooden staves under the guidance of a tall elven instructor. Banners of green and gold fluttered in the breeze.

"…Almost a Different world, huh?" he murmured.

A group of passing servants eyed him curiously but offered polite nods. He returned them with a faint wave.

Before he could explore further, hurried footsteps approached from behind.

"Sir Alexander!" the young servant girl called, a bit out of breath. "The elder… he awaits you now."

Alexander turned, raising an eyebrow. "Already?"

She nodded, gesturing for him to follow. "In the garden."

He followed her through winding halls until they emerged into an open courtyard.

It wasn't just a garden—it was an oasis. Trees rose tall, their trunks twisted with ancient strength. Flowers of brilliant blues and soft violets bloomed between sprawling vines that hung lazily over marble trellises. A small stream trickled through stone channels, feeding into a crystal-clear pond where lilies floated like sleeping stars.

At the heart of it all sat the elder beneath a flowering tree, its petals drifting around him like snow. He rested on a stone bench, a long staff propped beside him, his silver hair catching the light. His gaze lifted as Alexander approached.

"Ah… the warrior awakens," the elder spoke, his voice gentle yet laced with knowing weight.

Alexander stopped a few paces away, offering a respectful nod. "You wanted to see me?"

The elder's lips curved faintly. "Indeed. Sit." He gestured to the bench across from him.

Alexander hesitated, then stepped forward, lowering himself onto the cool stone.

A pause. The elder studied him quietly, the breeze stirring the petals between them.

"…You are far from home, child of man," the elder finally said. "Tell me… how did you come to fall from the skies, bearing wounds not of this world?"

Alexander's hands clenched faintly on his knees.

He took a slow breath, eyes flickering toward the swaying branches above.

"…I'm… not sure how to explain it," he admitted quietly. "There was a battle. And I ended up here."

"...That's a sandy explanation." The elder closed his eyes, looking down on the green floor of short grass. He opened his eyes with a sigh.

"…I suppose, I shall introduce myself first…" the elder murmured, his gaze lifting again.

He tapped the staff lightly against the ground. A soft pulse of light rippled outward, sending a subtle warmth through the air.

"I am Thalion Silversage, Warden of the Borderwoods, and Speaker for the Council of Elders," he said, his voice steady but laced with an ageless weariness. "For many Centuries, I have guarded the threshold between our forest and the wild plains beyond… and I have never seen a human fall from the heavens with light and thunder."

Alexander sat straighter, the name lingering in his mind. "Thalion Silversage…"

The elder smiled faintly. "A name you will not find in the tongues of men. But we know many of your kind—though few walk these woods in peace."

"My name is Alexander von negther, Son of Barthen von negther. I am the second heir of the Rainsworth kingdom."

Thalion's gaze deepened, a flicker of recognition—old, distant—passing through his silver eyes.

"Rainsworth," the elder echoed softly. "A kingdom of men… yet that name stirs memories from long ago. Memories of banners flying beneath the same crest, though the faces have long faded."

Alexander's chest tightened. "You… knew of my family?"

Thalion inclined his head, leaning slightly on his staff. "In ages past, an envoy from Rainsworth came seeking counsel. A time before your grandfather's grandfather drew breath. We welcomed them under truce… but men's promises are short-lived, and their kingdoms even shorter."

His voice carried neither malice nor warmth—only quiet resignation.

Alexander looked down at his hands. "That sounds like… history I never learned."

"Men rarely remember their debts, Alexander von Negther," Thalion murmured. "But the forest does."

A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the gentle rustle of petals falling.

Finally, Thalion's gaze sharpened. "Now… speak truly. What battle cast you from the skies? What foe did you face, that even the winds trembled at your fall?"

Alexander's jaw tightened. He felt the weight of the question settle on his shoulders, heavy as the moment he'd drawn his blade against Lucian.

"…I fought a Demon King," he said quietly. "The King of Pride."

Thalion's eyes narrowed, the silver gleam deepening. "A Demon King."

"Yes." Alexander's fists clenched against his knees. "Lucian Vaincrest."

The elder went still, his breath drawing slow and measured. "That name… it carries an old weight."

Alexander exhaled, shaking his head. "He was too strong. I—I thought I could defeat him. I had to." His voice cracked slightly. "But I failed."

"…yet you live," Thalion said softly. "Fallen from the heavens, broken but not shattered. Few mortals could claim such survival."

Alexander's lips thinned. "I still don't find my survival to be of joy. Maybe i should not have survived"

Thalion's staff tapped the earth again, a pulse of quiet energy settling around them.

"Perhaps," the elder said, "or perhaps the world is not finished with you yet."

A breeze drifted through the garden, scattering more petals between them.

"…The Demon Kings do not move lightly, Alexander von Negther," Thalion continued, his tone lowering. "If Pride has risen… the others will stir soon."

Alexander's head snapped up. "You know of them?"

The elder's smile was faint and sad. "We elves have watched the tides of the world long before men carved stone into castles.. First came the era of the gods, following it the elven, then the Demon along with the Beasts. The mankind is to be the latter."

"...Then! Has there anyone else who fought "Pride" alone?"

"Yes. But not the one you speak of. Decades-no. Centuries ago. There was a demon who fought against the Gods, he stood alone with a Blade radiating the glory of his past victories. Angles gazed upon the Demon who was once said to be "mad" for fighting against a Divine Being."

"Although, he was ultimately defeated and vanished. He's madness brought the heavens AND the hell to ruin. Since then, there has been no sign of "God"."

"..huh? Then what about the celestial realm? Aren't they divine too?"

"No, they simply follow the gospels of the forgotten legend. They are not such entity."

Alexander stood with a dilated look, these informations were just too.... Even I am having a hard time describing it.

.....

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...

A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the whisper of petals falling into the pond.

At last, Thalion rose from the bench, his robes brushing softly over the grass. "We have done what we can for your body. But the path ahead is yours alone to walk." He turned, gazing out past the garden's arches, where beyond the walls, the distant plains shimmered under morning light. "The elders debated long into the night. Some wished to keep you here, to learn from you. Others feared what shadow you might bring. But I have decided."

"You are free to go."

Alexander with what little pride he had left stopped his bow and just Muttered under his breath.

"Thank you and farewell. I hope to meet you again if fate(or the author) allows."

"I would also love to talk with the wise man you may become in the far future."

With that.. Alexander had left with a map he was given to by the elder. A map of the world. Not accurate, but still unimaginable.