11 Humans Are Fragile Companions

Humans are incredibly fragile creatures.

Watching Zhong Ming lower his head and cleanse the bloodied wound on his hand with holy water, the elf’s mind was inexplicably struck by this thought.

After being corrupted by the Abyss, the elves began to be assimilated from within, but in truth, they were never a purely aloof and indifferent race indifferent to worldly affairs; otherwise, they would never have waged war against others.

Yet, before their assimilation by the Abyss, the elves did indeed prefer to dwell within forests, living surrounded by leaves and close to nature. Back then, the Mistwood was not yet a den of soul-corroding poison fog. Occasionally, humans living on the borders would wander into the elven forests, like lost travelers stepping into another realm, encountering one beautiful being after another who regarded them with eyes cold or gentle.

The elves would sometimes receive visitors, escorting disoriented humans back out. However, as the legend of the Elven Forest spread, an increasing number of humans began to frequently visit elven lands. They coveted the elves’ beauty, the gems and alchemical potions produced within their realm—treasures ordinary people could only dream of. They yearned to glimpse this mysterious kingdom, hoping to grasp a fragment of the fairy-tale land through the tales of bards and travelers, as if holding a gem bursting with dazzling light.

After that, the Elven King no longer invited any humans into their territory. The labyrinth crafted by the Elven Law God ensured that humans left empty-handed. The elves disdained and refused any dealings with humans, looking down upon them as they entered the forest full of hope and wonder, only to depart in disappointment.

By then, the elves already understood that humans, compared to themselves, were fragile yet incredibly powerful beings. Among humans were even Law Gods and Sword Gods, but most travelers were merely ordinary people chasing dreams, often injured by the crude traps within the labyrinth.

The elves would never consider humans as companions.

Even when a traveler caught in a trap struggled for help and an elf extended their body from the maze to gently lift them out, the elf’s expression remained cold. Though the human’s body trembled in their embrace, battered yet gazing at the elf’s profile with silent admiration for their beauty, the elves remained unmoved.

No matter how perfectly a traveler’s body fit into an elf’s embrace—as humans, unlike most other races, were generally warm beings—their body temperature was too high for an elf. Holding one was like cradling a small furnace, and yet the human would stretch out their hands excitedly, eager to speak, to express their affection and excitement.

The elves’ faces, however, remained indifferent.

Because they could not choose humans as partners—humans were too fragile, their lifespans too short, and their temperament ill-suited to remain in the forest. They could neither understand why elves guarded the Tree of Life so devotedly, nor endure such a life. Even the most tender-seeming human companion would eventually quarrel with the elf over differing ideals. The human would leave without hesitation, or return years later to kiss the elf’s cheek.

Then, they would die—gone forever, never to return.

This continued until the elves were corrupted by the Abyss... when something changed.

Elves grew taller, more terrifying, and the once-beautiful, mysterious kingdom seen by outsiders began to transform. The labyrinths on the outskirts shifted, seemingly to deliberately encircle and hunt the travelers trapped within.

When travelers were wounded, elves still appeared to save them, but instead of releasing them, they would softly lead them deeper into the Elven Forest. Excited travelers were shown this dreamlike realm, led into the elves’ nests—once woven from green leaves and vines, now darkened and blackened, a sting repelling the touch. The gentle elves invited them to dine, but no longer as guests, rather as prey who had unwittingly stumbled into the lair.

Those humans never left the Elven Forest again. Their kin and friends found no trace of them, unsure if they had perished or vanished.

The elven labyrinths became swamps that devoured humans; one traveler after another disappeared, swallowed by magic arrays. The forest began to emit poisonous mists. By the end, wandering travelers were no longer lost in the maze but pierced by cold arrows and carried directly into the nests.

In an instant, the Elven Forest became the Mistwood, shocking and terrifying the world. Monsters seemingly born of the Abyss appeared openly on the continent, launching a horrifying invasion and wanton plunder.

All—people and possessions alike—were seized and claimed.

Those captured in the lairs, near collapse, found others in the same plight. Only then did they realize the missing were not vanished but trapped within the maze.

Made into the elves’ companions... or playthings.

They were shocked and enraged yet powerless to resist or refuse, imprisoned by the now violent, deranged elves in a cage. No matter how much they screamed or pleaded, no matter their fear and fury, they were confined firmly inside the nest, forced to endure the companion’s every caress.

Of course, the elves would never seek humans as partners: all of this was humanity’s own doing. Their greed, curiosity, and enchantment by beauty and appearances blinded them. The gems and treasures produced by the elves bewitched humans, and when gravely wounded and saved by elves, carefully nurtured and spoken to sweetly, it composed an irresistible temptation no ordinary person could refuse. They even courted the elves, believing them to be pure and detached beauties above worldly matters, easily coaxed into agreement with a few words, becoming humans’ companions.

They knew not what lay beneath those delicate exteriors. When the mask was torn away, it was too late—after corruption by the Abyss, elves would never allow chosen companions to leave nor tolerate betrayal.

So everything was humanity’s own fault.

For a long time, the elves were a nightmare to all other races, nearly ruling the entire continent. Yet this once-glorious race vanished overnight without a trace. No one knew what had happened. Legends said that during the Abyss War a thousand years ago, other races united to crush the elves, but only those who lived through it knew how absurd that rumor was.

Lü is the last elf in this world.

Even he can only find records left behind in elven ruins to understand what truly happened.

After reading these ancient texts, Lü realized:

Though the elves’ numbers were few, though many died unable to withstand the Abyss’s power, and even though the Tree of Life had been thoroughly corrupted and could no longer bear new life,

They were still rulers of the continent.

For at that time, the elves counted nearly a hundred Law Gods among them.

No other race could resist such power. The Elven King even captured the ruler of the Empire of Light, holding him in his lair until the elves were utterly destroyed overnight and the shadow that had covered the continent slowly lifted.

But not even Lü knew exactly what had transpired.

He only found a passage in an ancient book, written in the elven tongue:

“Though we have no way back, and though this fleeting prosperity will one day consume all elves, now, I am willing to swallow this poisonous fruit and accept all that is to come.”

Even knowing the inevitable doom that awaited, they chose to accept it, to ravage what was rightfully theirs with the ferocity of demons.

A prosperous race that occupied the continent, hated bitterly by others—who trembled at even the sound of their name—vanished overnight.

Now Lü is the last elf, born from the Tree of Life at the very last moment.

In this vast world, this entire continent, only he remains.

From elven books, records, and ruins, viewing humans through the eyes of other elves, Lü learned that humans were a fragile, cunning, fickle, weak, and foolish species.

They almost made the elves hate their own companions.

Thus, Lü knew he could never choose a human as a partner, nor take any interest in humans.

No matter how adorable, warm, or perfect for an embrace they appeared.

The young elf’s gaze fell on Zhong Ming. Watching the handsome man frown as he washed away the lingering Abyss taint on his fingers, then study him with a faint, unreadable look, the elf suddenly stood, extending his tongue to lick the wound.

The metallic sweetness of blood touched the tongue—a delightful flavor. Abyssal creatures craved this magically charged flesh, tasting sweet. The slender tongue licked back and forth over the wound, as if soothing it, yet restless and eager.

Zhong Ming could not resist stroking the young elf’s head.

But the moment he did, he froze. Good heavens, this was the protagonist destined to become the Supreme God in the future. How could he have the audacity to stroke his head so casually?

It was as if petting a small creature that could be held in his arms.

No matter how cute and beautiful Lü appeared now—it was impossible.

Zhong Ming withdrew his hand, curling his fingers. The wound no longer hurt, but the elf’s bite had caused some damage. It was an indescribable sensation, as if pierced by venomous fangs, or grazed by a razor-sharp dagger so cold and keen that even a slight touch poisoned the wound, causing sharp pain.

The Abyss’s power was like a poisoned thorn lodged deep in flesh, chilling his soul with fear. Zhong Ming could only suppress the bone-deep cold using holy water. But when the holy water splashed onto the elf, it was like pouring molten iron. Just a few drops instantly hissed and steamed, white smoke billowing up. Zhong Ming’s pupils contracted sharply as he hurriedly wiped the holy water off the elf.

Heaven and Abyss were fire and water—each contact sparked conflict. Although Lü would one day rule both realms, even now he could not avoid being burned.

When the smoke cleared, the once pristine body of the young elf bore several burn marks, stark and alarming. Zhong Ming’s heart ached, yet he feared the elf would bite him again in anger.

But Lü made a soft whimpering sound.

He lifted his body, gazing at Zhong Ming with his emerald eyes, licking Zhong Ming’s wound as if asking: Does it still hurt?

The author’s mind went blank, all principles forgotten—no longer thinking of the protagonist’s future as the Supreme God, or the dangers of offending him or getting too close. All that mattered was the young elf before him—the protagonist he had lovingly created.

Now, injured and reduced to childish instincts, none of this would leave a lasting impression on Lü.

Lü uttered another strange sound, filled with hypnotic power, making Zhong Ming’s mind buzz. His heart held only one thought: He looks truly adorable.

Like a tiny kitten, a beautiful jellyfish—soft yet surprisingly heavy.

Zhong Ming couldn’t help but lift him up. Moments later, the man leaned in, rubbing the elf’s forehead.

It was like caring for a cat; Zhong Ming’s cat-lover instincts surged, his reason fading. Seeing the elf stare unblinkingly at him, his heart trembled, fearing the next bite might tear his hand or pierce his body.

Feeling the warmth of the human, the elf’s eyes locked onto him. Suddenly, Zhong Ming felt something brush against his palm—it was the elf propping up his head, nuzzling his hand.

“So cute. Too cute.”

Zhong Ming’s heart melted. Seeing the elf accept his touch, he boldly stroked him again and again.