I was in Seclusion for so long that everyone forgot about me

"Ohh, I missed this," I said as I walked toward the obvious conflict. It had been a long time since I last enjoyed the scent of a forest at night. My tails twitched as the full moon broke through the canopy, bathing everything in a mysterious glow. To my delight, it revealed something ahead—lots and lots of dwarf beeches.

Why was I so excited about this? Well, most people who heard that name wouldn't even know those trees existed, let alone how rare they were. These trees were something special... even in the world I came from. A large collection of them was known as a 'Maerchen-', 'Zauber-', or 'Hexenwald.' It wasn’t because they were magical or anything, but because of how they grew and looked under the right environmental influences.

When fog began to rise, those unaware of their surroundings would wander into the misty forest. Seeing the trees’ shadowy forms behind the foggy veil, they often mistook them for dancing witches or demons performing dark rituals.

But even in broad daylight, the scenery was breathtaking. It was all about the shape of the trees. Some might call them ugly, but to me, they were stunning. They were so twisted, so kinked that their roots, trunk, and branches looked like a masterpiece of some famous modern artist or artisan. Some parts were too thick, others too thin, creating an odd yet harmonious balance. Depending on their shape, you might even imagine fairies living inside them—and, well, sometimes they did... at least in this world.

Yes, those dwarf beeches were truly magical, even if most ordinary folks didn’t recognize that. The ones who did were wise enough to steer clear. A really, really smart decision, if you ask me, because these magnificent trees mainly belonged to the domain of a Grey Dryad. And trust me, you did not want to meet one of them—unless, of course, you had a death wish or were an elf. Yet even elves had to be careful, always bringing an offering to appease the dryad, usually an animal or something with a decent enough life force. Because that was what Grey Dryads fed on—the life force of every creature that ventured too close.

Their home trees were called ‘Succubus Trees’ because, like the dryads, they lured in poor souls and slowly drained them. Fucking illusionary trees. Grey Dryads were nothing more than tortured plants that somehow gained a soul, now cursed to hunger for life forever. Ugh, they reminded me of those disgusting Ash Titans.

Anyway, a fight among dwarf beeches could only mean one thing: at least one side of the participants were elves. I hadn’t seen any elves in a long time... hopefully, there weren't any high elves around.

I sighed. I had nothing against most elves, but high elves? They were the worst—I never got along with them. Moon and wood elves, on the other hand... well, let’s just say I had a complicated history with them—in a good way!

While I mulled over these thoughts, I finally reached the source of the noise. Sure enough, in a small glade, different kinds of elves were locked in battle with a pack of human bandits. I stood back and watched.

In the middle of the grassy clearing, the elves had set up a camp, surrounded by their wagons. I could sense a magic barrier around it, and only the armed elves outside of it. In the rearguard was an elf clad in heavy armor, flanked by two sword fighters. Behind them were a lancer and a mage, followed by archers and, what I assumed, was a healer.

The bandits, though more numerous, seemed far less trained and equipped. They launched attack after attack but couldn’t break through. The vanguard elves had no trouble holding them off, even when a bulky guy—who looked like the leader—charged at them, swinging a heavy zweihaender. I couldn’t help but notice a few bandits sneaking through a gap between the wagons, heading toward a group of children who were hiding in what must have been considered the safest spot. That was kinda impressive, not gonna lie.

Then everything happened really fast. As soon as the bandits grabbed the children as hostages, the kids started crying. The humans shouted in a language I didn’t recognize, and the moon elves responded in a version of their language that sounded so wrong it might as well have been gibberish. After more yelling, the elves laid down their arms.

Slowly, the bandits moved in. As a precautionary measure, some of their archers kept their arrows aimed at the elves. In moments, the elves were bound tightly with ropes and roughly herded into the middle of their camp. Greed glinted in some of the bandits’ eyes, satisfaction in others—but one had lust in his eyes. Disgusting!

The children were the only ones left untied, clinging to their mothers, who tried to soothe them. A few kids appeared unfazed, but I could tell they were just trying to hide their fear, refusing to show any weakness. The whole scene was heartbreaking, even for me. I gritted my teeth at the sight. I should kill those bastards.

"Hey, wait a second!" I muttered to myself. "Isn't this one of those common tropes? You know, where someone gets transported to a 'new world' and ends up saving everyone... or something like that." But for some reason, I didn’t want to just do that.

‘TeAr thEm ApArT!’

‘RiP oUt ThEiR hEaRtS, fEaSt On ThEm!’ a chorus of voices screamed in my mind. I tried to ignore them, but this time they were right. Why I could hear them outside of my domain was something I’d figure out later—after I...

"Or wait," I smirked as a plan began to form in my head. One of my hands started to emit a thick, black mist. "A little test to see if my shadow beasts still work as well as before should be fun. Besides, they’re probably starving after all this time. Yes, let this vixen here play a little game and show them what scum like this truly deserves."

-30 Minutes Earlier-

It was deep into the night when we finally caught up with the caravan. We had been trailing that group of elves for days, but until now, they had been far too cautious, never once dropping their guard.

Still, we used the time to gather as much information as we could about those tree huggers—how many of them could fight, and whether any high elves were with them. The marquis and the elf who accompanied him were very clear that no high elves were to be harmed or captured. So far, we had only identified wood, ice, dark, and moon elves. Quite a diverse bunch, if you asked me.

Anyway, our scouts counted a few mages, a lancer, a priest, several archers, four sword-fighters, and possibly a paladin. They were all equipped with some pretty high-quality gear, which told us they were high-level fighters. The paladin, in particular, gave me a headache—what the hell was she doing with them!? Yet, if we could capture her, we could sell her to the marquis for a hefty sum.

When they began to set their camp for the night, I blessed our luck once again.  A few weeks ago, we found a mage with one-eighth elven blood, and only because of him could we even enter this cursed part of the forest. The elves thought they were safe here, believing they had the upper hand with their ability to soothe that abomination that roamed these woods. But now, we had them right where we wanted them. And to top it off, thanks to the barrier mage we hired—an absolute scumbag, by the way—they couldn’t even detect us. Lucky for us he got kicked out of the Royal Academy for... well, whatever inappropriate behavior he’d been accused of.

A silent tap on my shoulder snapped me back to reality. Everyone was ready. Alright, here we go.

"Attack!" I shouted, and the first few fire arrows shot directly at one of the wooden carriages.

But as expected, even surprised by an ambush, the elves were quick to respond. It didn’t take long for them to set up their defenses. A barrier appeared to block the arrows, a holy aura to strengthen their fighters, and the paladin charged forward without hesitation.

The next few minutes were chaotic—a back and forth between us. Sure, we were about thirty-five bandits, but damn, those shitty elves were a well-trained group. Despite the mess, a grin spread across my face when I saw what my best thieves had accomplished in the corner of my eye.

"What are you smiling for, you filthy human!" the paladin yelled, swinging at me again. I barely managed to block another one of her heavy strikes.

But I didn’t need to answer. The desperate cries of the children echoed through the glade, stealing her attention.

"No!" the paladin screamed, trying to turn around, but I cut her off by raising my voice.

"Lay down your weapons, or we kill the kids!"

She glared at me, gritting her teeth. "Never!"

"One more step, and we slit their throats," I responded calmly.

"Don’t you hear the captain? Down with your weapons!" one of the thieves shouted at them.

Honestly, I wasn’t proud of using the kids as hostages. Heck, before they set up camp, I didn’t even know they had kids with them. But their false sense of security made them careless. When they stepped out of the most armored wagon, we knew that if things went haywire, we’d have to use them... so we did. Well, I’m still not proud of it, but we were bandits at the end of the day.

After more yelling, an old woman stepped forward. “Lay your weapons down. Have you all forgotten? We will always protect our younglings.”

“B-but elder—!” The paladin tried to protest but was quickly silenced.

“Quiet! Do as I say. There will always be hope as long as we have our goddesses by our side.”

I rolled my eyes. As if their goddesses would care about a few elves. Taking kids as hostages always worked—elves were just too easy.

We gathered them all in the middle and tied them up. I noticed the barrier mage—whose name I never bothered to learn—moving to touch the paladin.

“No!” I ordered. He looked displeased. “That one’s over your pay grade! If you want someone to play with, go to a fucking brothel. We’re bandits and slavers, not rapists, you dimwit.”

He mumbled something under his breath but went to bother another elf.

Sighing, I rubbed my temples. "Kicked out of the Royal Academy for a reason. And here I thought it was just a rumor.”

Greg looked at me with disgust. “At least he’s not into men. We would've had a harder time otherwise.”

I stifled a laugh, but then, suddenly, a shiver ran down my spine. Shocked, I turned toward the forest and raised my hand. Instantly, everyone went silent.

Nothing... too much nothing.

"Boss?" Parlo, the other thief, asked.

"Don’t you hear it?" I said.

"N-no?" he replied, looking at me, confused.

"Exactly. The birds, the insects… they’re quiet. They shouldn’t be this quiet. Something’s wrong."

At this, my men’s eyes went wide, and they began scanning the area carefully.

Then, fog started to rise, wrapping around the trees and covering them with a thick layer of mist. The moon emerged from behind a cloud, casting an eerie light on the fog, making it seem as though everything around the glade was beginning to dance. Blurry shapes moved in the mist, twisting and turning—like creatures without joints.

“I don’t like this," I muttered. "I really don’t like this.”

But when the moon faded behind another cloud, the haunting atmosphere seemingly vanished, replaced by pure darkness.

My eyes fixated on the elf the paladin had called ‘Elder.’ “Is it the Grey Dryad?” I asked.

I hadn’t expected her to answer, but she did. “No, it’s not. This... is something else.”

Before I could ask more, a soft, sweet female laugh echoed through the now completely dark forest.

“What the…” one of my bandits muttered, pointing.

My eyes wandered back to the dark forest. Then I saw it—a pair of the most beautiful red eyes I’d ever seen. Staring. Right. At. Us.

Their glow pierced through the night. When they blinked, it felt like, for a moment, we were left in oblivion.

A growling sound dragged me back to the present. From between the trees, a pack of wolves arose, literally. Their bodies seemed to have absorbed the shadows as they took shape, and their eyes glowed with a deadly violet light.

“Draw your weapons!” I yelled.

Hurriedly, my men followed the command, just as the shadowy wolves began to encircle us. Behind me, the elder began to pray, and a few of my bandits, trying to muster courage, did the same.

When the moonlight bathed the glade once more in its silver light, a tall, stunning woman emerged from the woods, flanked by two of the shadow-beasts. Her aura radiated a majesty that made me tremble, caught between awe and terror. She wore a dark blue, luxurious militia uniform—one I’d never seen before. Her long silver hair flowed behind her, and though she had pointed ears like an elf, it was the twelve long, graceful foxtails flicking wildly behind her that set her apart.

“Is she a fox-kin?” asked the barrier mage.

“No," Greg replied, his eyes fixed on the wolves by her side. "Fox-kin only have one tail and fox ears. And she’s not a vixen either—they only have up to nine tails, plus the fox ears."

“So, what is she?” I asked, glancing at Greg. He was far too interested in beast-kin—seriously, what was wrong with good ol’ human women? 

“I-I don’t know,” he stammered. “I’ve never seen anything like her, let alone something that controls shadows!”

The vixen-like woman came to a stop and began to speak.

“What?” I said, not understanding a word.

“Was that elvish?” one of my men mumbled.

I turned to the elder again, but she seemed utterly aghast, her face pale with shock.

Well, fuck it. "Attack!" I screamed, refusing to give her the advantage of the first strike.

I dashed toward her, but the beasts were faster. I barely dodged their attack, stumbling back a few steps. The woman only smiled—then disappeared.

A scream from my left made me whip my head around. There she was, her hand plunged into the chest of the barrier mage, holding his heart. He slumped lifelessly to the ground.

Countless screams filled the air as I helplessly watched my group get massacred, one by one, by the pack of shadowy wolves. We never stood a chance. Every time someone tried to strike them, they melted into the ground and reappeared elsewhere—sometimes even from behind our own shadows! Spells and steel bounced off them when we actually managed to land a blow, but it didn’t matter.

Once they caught you, they simply tore an arm, a leg, or a head off, like it was nothing. Some of them didn’t even bother with that.

Greg’s scream pierced the air, making me freeze. I watched in horror as one of the wolves turned into a dark mist and flowed into his body. He had no way to defend himself. Black goo oozed from all his openings; an eye popped out and slimy tentacles began to push out of his mouth. They latched onto his limbs and, in one gruesome motion, yanked them all together—pulling them into his own mouth. It was like he was eating himself. Sickening cracks filled the air as his bones snapped and flesh tore. His screams, muffled, faded away. In the end, he was nothing more than a twisted ball of compressed flesh. I wanted to look away, but something held my gaze, forcing me to watch. I could only vomit in the end.

We were bandits, but did we really deserve this?! Then I noticed the silence. Slowly, I looked around. Everyone of my underlings was simply gone. No bodies. No remains.

No, there were people still alive—the elves. Only they were alive. Completely unharmed.

A laugh escaped my lips, and then I shouted at them, "Is this what prayers to your goddesses is supposed to look like?! How, how dare you to think to be any better than us? TO SUMMON SUCH A MONSTER INTO THIS WORLD!"

My rant was cut short as the demon grabbed me by the mouth and lifted me into the air. Her foxlike eyes pierced deep into my soul, filling me with nothing but despair.

For a moment, the world spun around me, and only the searing pain told me she had thrown me. I landed among the elves, their eyes burning with fury as they stared down at me.

Then, everything went black.

Honestly, this was pretty disappointing. My shadow beasts weren’t that strong, yet they weren’t even grazed. Did I run into the weakest bandits out here, or did the System cause some kind of regression in this world?

Well, I know my power level still seems pretty high… but I shouldn’t get too overconfident. At least my wolves had eaten something and were happy again. Did they really have to play with their prey like that, though? Even the elves were shocked. So much for making a good first impression. Sigh, whatever—they didn’t understand me anyway.

I looked at the group and took a step forward. The elf in the heaviest armor was about to reach for her sword, but the oldest-looking elf stopped her and walked toward me.

Her eyes weren’t filled with fear but rather with childlike curiosity. Then she said, with a barely comprehensible accent,

“E-elden Witch?”