The Wandering Fairy [LitRPG World-Hopping]

"We have to escape," Soren turned to the others—his expression turning more and more nervous by the second. "It won't take long for them to catch us."

Heaving for air, Myrin nodded. "Understood." Without giving either of them a chance to understand what he was about to do, Myrin channeled his anima Into the correct spellform.

"Summon Spirit," The scripted runic words rolled out of his tongue. Soon, a colossal creature began to rise from the ground—it's fur darker than onyx. It was a colossal wolf, similar to the ones he had seen in Yadra.

"This is..."

"One of my contracted spirits," Myrin answered In between raspy breaths. "Hurry—help Cassia get on it."

Soren didn't hesitate. He picked her up, much to the girl's protests, and helped her climb up the beast. He then immediately went back to do the same for Princess Myrella.

"Thank you," the Elven Songster smiled as his skin slowly paled.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Soren hesitated to ask, but this was no longer something he could ignore…

The Princess shook her head, "Don't worry, it will take much more than this to make me fall. Let's focus on escaping for now."

Soren nodded, not bothering to ask anymore. His companion was right—at the end of the day, this Mirror Game's win condition was the only thing they had time to worry about. Less than a day remained until the supposed reinforcements would arrive. They were at the home stretch now.

Just a bit longer and it will all be over…

As he thought about this, his gaze casually shifted to the colossal corpse resting near them. Slaying that Spirit Beast was a miracle on its own—a miracle they could not hope to repeat. If not for Myrin's strange new spell, they would already be dead by now…

Though the use of it might have already damned us enough... Out of the three of them, Myrin was the strongest. And now that most of his anima was depleted, they had no way of contending with the bigger threats this desert had to offer…

If only I had my Soul Weapon... With his fists clenched, he climbed up the colossal wolf and nodded at Myrin, signalling for him to go.

Without wasting another second, the Elven Songster gave the spirit a command. It quickly dashed down the depressing dune chasing after the receding shadows. Behind them, the sun slowly rose, as if to spotlight their escape.

Danger in the Eclipse Moor lurks in every corner. Their journey into the unknown was met with countless dangers—from monsters that peek out from underneath the sand to snakes that slither from dune to dune—there was no shortage of threats.

Though, most of them were relatively weak Rank 1 or Rank 2 Spirit Beasts that even he could deal with using just his Fairy Blades.

The same could not be said if they had met a powerful foe like the Mirror-Beaked Corvid again. Myrin knew this, so he decided to maneuver the colossal spirit. Carefully in order not to draw too much attention… At the same time, Soren used Violet Mirage from time to time to hide their presence.

As they sprinted down another dune, Soren frowned. "The Spirit Wolf army is still after us..." He could still spot their shadows in the distance—the colossal clouds of dust being stirred by their stubborn march. It was clear to him that the enemy had no plans of letting them escape.

He slowly turned to his companions—their faces stripped of any confidence... As the scorching sun slowly rolled over their heads, he couldn't help but sigh:

"Don't worry... We should be able to meet up with the reinforcements fairly soon."

And yet his voice still carried little hope. A seed of doubt had already taken root in all of them—what if the reinforcements were never going to arrive? Logically, their escape into the Eclipse Moor should have cut the time they needed to wait. Every kilometer they sprinted was a kilometer less for the Elven armies to reach them… And yet, no matter how far Soren searched the horizon, not a single shadow stirred—not even a faint mirage…

He shook the thought away, No—the Blossom Sword Flower wouldn't make an impossible trial. There has to be something I am missing… Maybe we're just not heading in the right direction?

But from Myrella's memories and from the intelligence I gathered, that shouldn't be the case…

Unaware of his thoughts, his companions continued to converse:

"Have your efforts been successful lately, Cassia?" Myrin asked the Drakari girl sitting in front of him.

She shook her head, "I've been constantly using my ability to taint the Hallowed Star fragment, however, I am unsure if my progress is enough to satisfy the mission given to me by the Blossom Sword Flower. There is no way of gauging how much more I need to do this for..."

Indeed, that too was a problem... Soren remarked to himself. It seemed that there was no way of controlling how or when the game windows would show up. They had no way of knowing whether they were walking down the correct path or not. All they could do was try their best with the limited information granted to them.

And in a way, they really have... Everything they had done so far was the best they could do under their circumstances.

As the sun slowly headed West, the last of Myrin's anima was spent. Without warning, the spirit wolf instantly returned to the Beyond—its anima dispersing in the air. All of them fell to the floor in shock.

Soren glanced at Myrin and frowned. "Are you alright?"

The Elven Songster didn't answer immediately. "I'm... fine..." Though Soren knew it was all just an act. Cassia knelt beside him, trying to lift him up.

All Soren could do was stare at the ground, gazing at the shifting black sands between his feet. Their chaotic flow mirrored his jumbled up thoughts.

Eventually, he came to a conclusion:

"Let's wait for the enemy here."

"What?!" The two looked at him as if he was insane.

"Escape is impossible," He walked past them, climbing the nearest sand dune. "Rather than wasting our energy, we should just confront them head on."

"Are you crazy? They have a whole army! Entire platoons of magi and sentinels that could wipe us out in seconds!" Cassia's face was flush with anger, but also slightly panicked.

Hearing this, Soren paused.

"Perhaps, but they don't seem that hellbent on capturing us... Haven't you realized? The speed of their march is suspiciously slow... It's as if they are even concerned that we would escape.

"Where did the fervor and determination they once held go? The enemy commander on the first day was willing to gamble an army just to siege the castle... Back then, I was sure that this was because the enemy was aware that reinforcements would arrive soon.

"But now... they act as if that's no longer a concern..."

Their eyes widened. "You don't mean..."

"Yes," He turned his neck back, smiling at the both of them. "The reinforcements we were hoping for were never going to arrive..."

Cassia's lips twitched slightly, but she said nothing in the end... Neither of them could refute Soren's argument. After all, deep down, they too had reached the same conclusion. They were simply hiding away from the truth…

As Soren reached the top of the dune, he immediately noticed their enemy only a few kilometers away. Their shadows only grew with the setting sun... It would not take long for their armies to reach them.

He waited above the sand dune, his heart pounding out of his chest. He had to agree with his companions—this was reckless. But there was no other choice… Running away would have only withered their strength only to eventually be captured anyway.

Now, his only hope was to try and negotiate. Perhaps he could even stall for time.... With his Violet Mirage spell, he could even hide amongst the crowd. After all, even if the enemy captured the Hollowed Star fragment, they would not be able to extract it immediately.

But at the end of the day, this was all just a bunch of 'if's. There was no foolproof plan that he could think of that would save them…

Glancing back, Soren looked at Princess Myrella and frowned. "Come with me," he said in a low tone.

Finding the strength to get up, Myrin did as he asked. "What do you need me for? Did you figure out a plan?"

He stared at him for a second, a bit surprised at his question. "You think that highly of me?"

Myrin shrugged, "Who knows."

Soren shook his head with a smile. "No plans. Just going to try something stupid.

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"Do you trust me?"

Myrin looked at him for a second then smiled. "What do you take me for?"

With that, Soren didn't hesitate any further. He wrapped his right arm around his neck then pointed Ghostfang the Pale at his chest—aiming directly for the heart.

"Well then, you're my hostage now."

The Elven Songster looked baffled, but went along with it anyway. Cassia glanced up at the two of them, confused:

"What in the Six Divines are you doing?"

Soren glanced back, "Six Divines? Did you forget you're a heretic?"

She clicked her tongue.

"Don't worry, it won't hurt him… I think."

Hearing this, Myrin's eyes widened slightly with concern, but he decided not to say anything anyway. Soren couldn't help but shake his head.

Damn that spirit... I should have known she would never play fair with us. To think he would be pushed to act in such an irrational manner… But there was no time left to regret.

The enemy had finally reached them…

Just a few hundred meters away, a large crowd gathered before them, spears in hand, banners waving proudly for all to see… At the front, a colossal Spirit Wolf could be seen, sitting firmly above his skeletal steed and surrounded by powerful sentinels and magi alike.

This was likely the enemy commander…

Next to him, he spotted a rather familiar face. A Spirit Wolf with a gruesome 'X' shaped scar plastered across his face. His horrifying four arms each holding a distinct weapon different from the ones he had seen before.

"Hegir…" Soren's frown deepened. Just as he had assumed, Ilrune had lost the fight. How it happened no longer mattered—only the outcome remained.

Suddenly, a booming voice reached him:

"Are you the one named Soren?" It had come from the direction of the enemy commander.

Soren's eyes widened. He knows me? He was not expecting that at all, however, he tried to keep his face composed anyway. Any sign of weakness could only exacerbate the issue.

Poking Myrin's chest with the dagger, he decided to be smug. "Shouldn't you introduce yourself first before asking who I am?"

There was a slight commotion amongst the soldiers. They all stared at him with malice, as if imagining countless ways to rip him apart.

The enemy commander whose white fur differentiated him from most other Spirit Wolves raised his hand. Almost immediately, the crowd fell into silence once again.

"I am Commander Folre from the Rising Spear tribe. It is a pleasure to meet you Soren, the Slave Tactician."

He's strangely polite…

Soren cleared his throat, "Why would a man such as yourself find pleasure in meeting a mere slave like me?"

"A mere slave?" He flashed his canines with a chuckle. "You're selling yourself short.

"How could I—Commander Folre of the Fifth Spirit Wolf Legion—be defeated by a mere slave?"

"Defeated?" Soren couldn't help but scoff. "Would the defeated chase after the victor like they're fleeing mice?"

The commander remained silent.

"I have done all I could to protect Bastion Thirel, but I still lost in the end. There's no need to sugarcoat it."

Unexpectedly, the commander burst into laughter, much to the confusion of his soldiers.

"I heard many things from those sharp eared bastards, but you really are a wicked one.

"I like you. If you hand over the princess, I'll give you a position in my army. What do you say?"

Soren locked eyes with the fearsome commander for a second then smiled. "I refuse. I am not a fool—Princess Myrella is the Hollowed Star fragment. You and your God need her for your plans.

"If you so much as take a single step forward, I will pierce her heart and kill her instantly. Your magi won't have time to save her." To show he was serious, Soren dug the dagger into Myrin's skin, making him flinch in pain.

The commander paused, staring directly at him and Cassia who had finished climbing the sand dune on her own. The warrior named Hegir seemed to whisper something to him, as if they were planning something.

As expected, they will probably try to separate us before I can kill her…

"Why are you doing this?" The commander argued, "Surely you're not doing this out of loyalty to the Elves? A slave like you?"

Soren shook his head, "I couldn't give a single fuck about them. In fact, a part of me felt glee knowing they were all slaughtered in Bastion."

He wasn't lying. The pure hatred this body held for its captors wasn't something that could be mistaken. In fact, from the memories he had inherited, Soren was sure that the nameless Slave Tactician was plotting to murder Duke Alinar himself, but that goal fell through when his master died during the siege…

It was honestly such a damn headache… On one hand, he was full of grief and anguish, but there was also a subtle sprinkle of happiness laced into the mix, making him feel complicated about the whole thing. And the same could be said about his feelings for Ellisar and Ayen.

Though the pair treated him well, the owner of this body still held contempt for them both.

Sighing, Soren glanced at the army before him and declared:

"We desire freedom—the princess included. That's why, if you wish to capture her, I will end her life here."

The Spirit Wolf commander rubbed his chin. "Interesting… You're so interesting. I have never met an enemy like you before."

"What do you mean?" Soren frowned.

"Your strategy during the siege… It was so brilliantly calibrated against my desires—as if you had purposefully read my mind when designing it.

"And the same could be said here. These negotiations of yours are a bit silly, but your threats still carry weight. You're not fully sure what we're capable of, but you know exactly what we desire… Every one of your plans is such a risky gamble.

"Are you not afraid of losing?"

Hearing this, Soren's lips widened into a smile. "Lose? A brilliant strategist never factors their defeat into a strategy."

"Is that something Duke Alinar taught you?"

"It is something I taught myself," he scoffed. "That fool Alinar couldn't even outlive his own soldiers—I feel offended to be compared to him."

Hearing this, Folre turned to Hegir, "Take that thing out."

Soren pondered over what they were going to do, but he received his answer in the next second. The four armed warrior threw something before them that slowly rolled in the sand. It didn't take long for him to realize what it was.

A severed head. And its gruesome details were an exact match to someone he knew.

"Ilrune…" Princess Myrella whispered.

"I heard from a few of the prisoners we captured that you had a feud with this man."

Soren nodded slowly, trying to keep his face composed. This bastard…

Folre smiled, "He was no match for Hegir from the start."

"What the hell is your point?"

"My point is that it's a waste. Warriors like these… They are meant to be pawns to those who can command them. A tool that doesn't listen is nothing but trash.

"Just think about it… If Ilrune's Elven pride didn't get in the way and he followed your orders as the tactician of the castle, perhaps things wouldn't have turned out this way, right?"

His lips twitched slightly, but he remained silent.

"Come join my side, Soren. I value the strengths of every tool at my disposal. I am not an irrational fool driven by pride in my own race—blind to those around me…"

Soren closed his eyes to ponder. It seemed the enemy commander didn't mind either, as if awaiting his answer.

Eventually, the Slave Tactician opened his eyes again:

"Answer me this first."

Folre nodded, "Ask away."

"How did you know we escaped the castle? The hidden passage we took was only known to a few guards who were aware of the Princess' status."

Folre smiled. "Don't you already know the answer to that?"

Frowning, he took a deep breath. As expected… Soren was already aware of the morale issue in the castle. The soldiers had all grown tired of fighting—there was not even a spark of hope in their eyes in the end.

Bastion Thirel fell with hardly any struggle. For those desperate to survive, even bargaining their princess was a price worth paying.

"Second question," Soren cleared his throat. "You know why the reinforcements aren't arriving, right? Why is that?"

The commander chuckled, "No wonder you decided not to run anymore—very astute.

"The reinforcements you were hoping for were intercepted by the Third Legion many kilometers away. So even if you had continued running, you would have only been met with more enemies."

Soren's smile widened. "I see…

"I get it now… Blossom Sword Flower."

The pieces slowly came together in his mind. From the very beginning, the goal he was given was nothing more than a hoax. A lie.

Changing history… It was impossible. Ilrune's disobedience, the morale of the soldiers, the spectral banners shifting to the Daemon army's side…

If it were just one of these obstacles, perhaps he could have formulated a plan. Perhaps he could have truly changed this current outcome… But at every turn, no matter what solution he came up with, the inevitable would still occur. The course of history was already decided from the beginning.

"Blossom Sword Flower… Is this what you wanted me to realize?" He murmured to himself.

From the very beginning, this Mirror Game was nothing but a lie. History cannot be changed and he was conceited to believe he could. Bastion Thirel was fated to fall—Princess Myrella of the Verdant Throne becoming a prisoner of war then later dying from the Hollowed Star fragment being extracted from her Runic Existence…

Whether that happened immediately after the castle was captured or after she was detained from fleeing into the Eclipse Moor didn't matter. For the outcome was the same, regardless.

"So," Folre crossed his arms and smiled. "What is your answer?"

The question rang deeply in his mind. It felt as if the Blossom Sword Flower Herself was asking him…

Soren took a deep breath. "My answer? It's simple.

"I choose nothing."

Before Folre could react, Soren plunged the dagger into Myrin's chest. The Elven Songster gasped, blood running down his lip. However, he didn't scream. Their eyes locked for a second—Myrin's wide with pain and disbelief, Soren's steady with grim resolve.

"Sorry," He whispered into his ear, watching the Elven Princess fall to her knees while clutching her crimson chest. Ghostfang the Pale had done its job—there was no way to stop the bleeding now.

The soldiers immediately erupted into roars of fury. Cassia's voice cracked as she cried his name, and Folre sprinted forward on his steed, engulfed in madness.

No one had expected this outcome.

As the army tore through the desert, ready to shred them apart for their foolishness, Soren simply stood there, watching it all unfold. He did not laugh, he did not gloat… Nor did he flinch.

After all, this was not the outcome he truly desired. Not by a margin. But it was the one fate had forced upon him. He would rather throw everything in the flames than submit to its designs.

"No wonder they call me a Foolish One…"

Since the Mirror Game was broken from the start, there was no longer any reason to stick to the rules.