[Alfheim Dungeon] Elafi and Karamsa

"Alright, let's stop here for today! Everyone unpack quickly!"

The barely hundred-strong group in red clothes, herding dozens of sheep and horses, all stopped in their tracks and dropped to the ground at the command of the man shouting at the head of the procession. The dust caked on their red garments showed just how grueling the past several days of travel had been.

"Ugh, Chief. Aren't we pushing way too hard? We're all going to die at this rate!"

"What's all this complaining? The horses are still going strong! I wanted to keep moving but the sun set early, so we're resting here!"

"We're not horses, Chief."

"Stop whining and go help the others. Everyone except you is already moving!"

The nomad chief, who had been shouting at the front of the procession, hauled the exhausted man to his feet and urged him to work. Normally he would have given everyone rest before unpacking and setting up camp, but the sky and wind had been unsettling for a while, so the chief was in a hurry. At this rate, a heavy downpour was sure to come. They needed to build shelters before the rain, so the weary people and their livestock — as precious as family — wouldn't shiver in the cold. As nomads who couldn't carry much due to their constant migration in search of grazing land, they lacked proper medicine and medical supplies. If someone fell ill, proper treatment would be impossible. That's why among nomads, not getting sick was considered helping others — an unspoken rule.

The man who had been grousing to the chief also knew the sky looked threatening, so with a deep sigh, he stood up and helped those pitching tents. He wouldn't get seriously ill from a bit of rain himself, but among their caravan were children under ten and a newborn baby from just the other day. If the children got sick, it would truly be a disaster.

"Hehe, Uncle Jorio got scolded by the chief! That's what you get for not getting up sooner."

"You little brat! Stop loitering around where the adults are working and go play with the baby. Don't tease me!"

Jorio, who had been complaining to the chief, took the tent parts from the hands of 14-year-old 'Karamsa,' a girl who had been helping the adults carry supplies, and began assembling a tent. At an age when she should have been rebellious and driving the adults crazy, she was instead the eldest among the children who hadn't yet come of age, and had been tasked with looking after the younger ones since she was little. Mature beyond her years, she was a child who filled the adults with both heartache and deep gratitude.

"Hang in there, Uncle! I'd better go check on our littlest one. The baby was fussing about being hungry."

"Yeah, go on — grab some sheep's milk and take it."

Karamsa pulled a small oak cask from the baggage and approached the sheep. As always, she hugged a sheep, stroked its back lovingly, then milked it before heading to the baby the other children were watching.

"Karamsa! I was watching the baby really well!"

"Me too, me too! When I made a silly face, the baby laughed! But only for a second and then cried again."

"Aww, you've all been doing great! Can you pass the baby to me for a moment? I think the baby's hungry."

With practiced ease, Karamsa cradled the baby and brought the sheep's milk to its lips. Watching the infant gulp it down adorably, a warm expression spread across her face.

"Wow, the baby's smiling!"

"So cute!"

"Shh, Cheche. We have to be quiet. The baby might get startled."

"Oops, sorry, unnie."

The little pigtailed girl called Cheche covered her mouth with both hands, afraid of startling the baby. Seeing this, the two boys on either side copied her gesture. It was so endearing that the adults organizing supplies nearby couldn't help but feel their lips curl upward.

"Karamsa! Leave the baby with the kids and come here a moment!"

"Oh, what does the chief want? Salki, keep watching the baby like before, okay? If it cries, it's hungry — feed it a little of this."

"Okay, got it, Nuna!"

Handing over the baby, Karamsa went to the chief who had called her. There were no tasks important enough for a 14-year-old among the nomads, so whenever the chief summoned her, it was always about the younger children. But all four children — including the newborn — were right in front of her, and there had been no recent incidents. So the chief calling her must be about something else. What could it be?

Karamsa knocked on the chief's tent.

"Chief, it's Karamsa."

"Come in."

Though hastily assembled, the inside of the chief's tent was warm, unlike the outside. Her fur cap quickly filled with sweat, so she removed it and held it as she asked.

"What is it?"

"Karamsa. You're fourteen now, right? Then you should be able to handle some work."

"......What kind of work are you about to assign me?"

The chief's sly smile gave Karamsa a bad feeling. As a leader who commanded a nomadic people, he was dignified and charismatic — but to Karamsa, who had been cared for by him since childhood, he was just the neighborhood uncle who played too many pranks.

"It seems the scouts wandered off somewhere. They should have returned by now but haven't. I thought they'd be back before my tent was up, tsk tsk. Karamsa, go find them."

"How am I supposed to find them when I don't know where they went!"

"You know the markers the scouts leave, don't you? Did you think I didn't know you've been sneaking out of camp following the scouts?"

Damn. She hadn't expected the chief to know. She thought she had hidden it perfectly. The scout uncles and aunties must have tattled. Or the sharp-eyed chief had figured it out on his own.

Karamsa's curiosity, which since childhood had made adults gasp by touching everything regardless of danger, had grown tremendously over the years — in all the wrong directions. Always slipping out of the procession, collecting anything that looked interesting, wandering around with bulging pockets like a squirrel hoarding nuts — once she got older, she graduated to sneaking out of camp entirely. When the chief learned of this and tried to scold her harshly, the other adults, seeing it as her only escape from the burden of always caring for the younger children, suggested assigning her to the scouts instead. The scouts secretly facilitated her outings while making sure she didn't realize the adults knew, and thanks to that, Karamsa had safely roamed the outside world until now.

Which is how she knew the scouts' trail markers.

"So I just need to find the uncles and aunties and bring them back?"

"That's right. This area is nothing but barren wasteland — not even wolf packs hunting for prey. Yet they still haven't returned, so they must be off eating something weird somewhere. Go fetch them. It's going to pour soon. If they're too far out of sight, turn back."

"Got it. I'll be right back!"

Karamsa practically kicked open the tent flap and dashed out.

"That kid — is she really that excited?"

"It's her first officially permitted outing, in her mind. She has every reason to be thrilled. But wasn't this too dangerous a task to give her......?"

The gatekeeper standing by the tent entrance expressed concern. But the chief didn't share the worry. The fate of nomads — never settling, always wandering — was grueling every day, beset by danger day and night. That's why the chief believed children needed to be raised tough.

"I'm going to train Karamsa as a scout. She needs to start getting experience now. And you know there's nothing dangerous around here, Kalga."

"Ahem. That's true."

Gatekeeper 'Kalga' watched Karamsa's retreating figure as she dashed beyond the camp, fur cap in hand. Silently wishing the girl's outing would be peaceful.

"Where on earth are the uncles and aunties? The markers end here — I can't see any more."

The scouts' trail markers had been faithfully laid out on the ground but abruptly stopped at a certain point. Since they marked direction at regular intervals, there should have been one nearby — but none was anywhere to be found.

"Geez. Are they really off eating something tasty in secret?"

Standing there, Karamsa deliberated. The sun was hanging at the edge of the western sky, growing darker, and the cold night wind was starting to bite — maybe she should head back. She wanted to explore more, but she knew well which times were most dangerous in this wasteland.

Just as she decided to turn back, a drop of water fell on her cap. She took it off to check — a raindrop's trace. Rain was coming. A few more drops fell on her arms and the ground as she put the cap back on. Heavy rain would blur the ground markers, risking her getting lost, so she needed to hurry back. Karamsa ran back the way she came.

But a problem arose. The rain was twice as heavy as she'd expected. Before she could reach camp, the ground markers blurred beyond recognition. Karamsa felt a sinking dread at the thought of being lost in this wasteland. Once the rain stopped and day broke, the clear visibility would let her spot the camp — but right now it was impossible. In the torrential downpour, she could barely see a step ahead. Feeling the rain-soaked chill creeping in, she realized she was in real trouble. There wasn't a single rock or tree for shelter.

Crouching where she stood, curling into a ball to conserve heat, Karamsa breathed hot air onto her freezing hands. After what felt like an eternity, convinced she would freeze to death, she lifted her head and looked ahead — and was stunned. A forest that definitely had not been there moments ago appeared right before her eyes! She didn't understand how, but needing to escape the rain and warm up, she entered the forest. Inside, thick fog from the continuous rain made visibility poor. She didn't know what lurked within, but figuring any tree for shelter was better than nothing, she sat under a massive tree at the forest's edge. Perched on its thick roots and looking out, she was shocked again. She had taken only a few steps into the forest, yet looking around, dense trees surrounded her on all sides. Good heavens — she was in the middle of the forest!

'What on earth is going on?'

Unlike the open wasteland, a forest like this was dangerous — anything could appear. Following what the scout uncles had taught her, she carefully observed the plants and wind direction. She was trying to find the forest entrance. After walking endlessly, she spotted a vague silhouette in the fog.

"U-Uncle? Auntie? Is that you?"

Wondering if the missing scouts had also wandered into this forest and gotten lost, Karamsa called out. The silhouette turned toward her and gradually drew closer. As it neared, she could make out what it was. The silhouette was a deer.

"A deer?"

A forest appearing out of nowhere in this wasteland was strange enough, and now a deer lived inside it? If she told anyone, they'd say she had been dreaming.

Karamsa debated whether to flee, and in that time, the deer had approached right behind the tree in front of her. She was somewhat awed by its majesty. Its sudden appearance was frightening, but it was far larger than any ordinary deer, and the black antlers on its head were downright magnificent. What set it apart from regular deer were the strange spherical shapes dangling from the antlers. The antlers alone looked less like deer antlers and more like some black-tinted plant.

The deer opened its mouth from behind the tree. Was it yawning?

[Who are you?]

......Not a yawn — words! A talking deer!

She had heard from the elders as a child that ancient forests and seas had masters who took the form of animals or plants and punished those who disturbed nature. Was this deer one of them?

"C-could you be... the lord of the forest......?"

[Lord of the forest. I'm not sure about that. But I am the only one in this misty forest.]

"I-I'm sorry, Lord of the Forest! I came in to shelter from the rain."

[It's fine. I am quite full at the moment.]

"E-excuse me......?"

An incomprehensible remark. Had it drunk a lot of water because of the rain?

[I shall look upon you kindly.]

"Th-thank you?"

Being looked upon kindly by the lord of the forest couldn't be bad. Karamsa thought the deer liked her. So she asked a question.

"Has anyone else entered this forest besides me?"

[Hmm, I'm not sure.]

"People wearing red clothes like mine, and older than me!"

[I may have seen them.]

So that's why the scouts were late. They must have entered this forest and gotten lost too.

"Do you know where they went?"

[Who knows.]

Maybe she had asked too many questions and angered the lord. Regardless, it was clear the scouts had entered this forest, so Karamsa decided to wait until the rain stopped and then find them and return to camp.

"Lord of the Forest, may I borrow a tree for a while?"

[No problem.]

"Thank you!"

She could safely shelter from the rain. Karamsa climbed a tree, using a branch as a seat and the leaves as a roof, leaning against the trunk. Then something fell from her waist to the ground — right in front of the deer. It was the sheep's milk she had been feeding the baby. She had forgotten to give it to Salki and brought it along. The oak cask cracked open, and the rich scent of milk filled the forest. The deer reacted with interest.

[What is this?]

"Oh, that's sheep's milk. I accidentally brought the one I was feeding the baby."

[Sheep's milk?]

"I'm a nomad — we travel around everywhere. So we have sheep and horses with us."

[Where is it?]

It? Did it mean the sheep?

"Do you want to try the sheep's milk?"

[Yes. Where is it?]

"Um, when daylight comes, I'll go get some. The sheep and horses are with the adults. If you go alone, the people will be startled!"

[I don't mind.]

It seemed eager for the milk. But with the heavy rain, moving was difficult. Karamsa looked up at the sky to get her bearings anyway — the rain had lightened, thinning the fog enough to see the night stars.

"I think it was probably in this direction."

[I see.]

"I'll bring some for you tomorrow! When the rain stops."

Hearing Karamsa's words, the deer walked off in the direction she had pointed. If it went out now, it would get drenched. Thinking this, Karamsa leaned her head against the trunk and succumbed to the sudden wave of sleep. After a grueling day of marching, caring for children, and searching for the scouts, it was perfectly normal for a 14-year-old to drift off.

Karamsa opened her eyes. She felt as though she had closed them for just a moment, but it was already a bright, sunny morning. The rain had stopped and the fog had cleared. Looking at the sun's direction to find the forest exit, she suddenly turned her head at the sharp smell of blood hitting her nose.

'Did the lord of the forest get hurt?'

It had wanted to go out even in the rain — it must have gotten hurt walking blindly. Karamsa jumped down from the tree and ran toward the smell. If it was badly injured, she needed to treat it quickly.

But what lay collapsed and injured before Karamsa was not the deer. It was the scout party she had been desperately searching for last night — lying dead, their bodies far from intact.

"AAAAAHHH!"

The ground was covered in filth — the scouts' blood mixed with debris washed in by last night's rain. She didn't know what had happened, but the people lay dead with their eyes not even properly closed. The sight of bodies, filth, and trampled foliage shattered something inside the 14-year-old girl.

Stumbling backward toward the forest edge, Karamsa suddenly remembered. The deer had clearly said last night that it was the only one in the forest. Then it was the deer that had done this.

That was no lord of the forest. Karamsa realized she had been terribly mistaken. And now she understood why it had said it was full. She had survived purely by luck.

Then another thought struck her — she had told that thing where her people were. The thing that had craved sheep's milk.

"N-no way."

Karamsa burst out of the forest and ran and ran. She didn't need trail markers. The rain had stopped, and she could faintly see the camp in the distance. She prayed desperately that the creature had gotten lost in last night's rain and never reached the camp.

But God did not side with the girl. She didn't even need to reach the camp to know. The stench of blood was overwhelming. The baby she had been caring for just yesterday, Cheche who had been laughing at the baby, Salki, Tenger. Uncle Jorio who bickered with her, the chief who led them, her parents. The sheep that shared their milk, the horses that lent their stride. Every life that had existed in the camp was dead. As if to prove all life had been extinguished, only flies buzzed above the human and animal corpses. The only living things on that ground were herself and the creature, lazily rising among the sheep carcasses.

"AAAH! No, this can't be. There's no way this happened!"

The girl tore at her hair and screamed. She wanted to deny that she had caused all their deaths.

"Why, WHY! Why did you kill them! WHY!"

[I was hungry.]

"You only needed the sheep's milk! Why did you kill the people!"

[Didn't I just answer? I was hungry.]

Karamsa collapsed and wailed. Her thoughtless action had killed everyone. She was a murderer. The truth was too immense to accept, and she sobbed until she could barely breathe.

Her heart ached. Her head ached. In a grief that felt like her heart had burst, she clawed at the hard earth until her nails ripped and bled — yet even that pain was nothing compared to the hole torn through her chest.

Watching the human who had helped it wail inconsolably, the deer grew curious. Why is this human so sad? What did those humans mean to her?

No matter how it thought about it, understanding human love and pain was beyond the deer. Soon losing interest, it turned and walked toward the misty forest that had appeared before the camp.

That was when the girl, who had been weeping on the ground, hurled herself at the deer with fire in her eyes. With all her strength she shoved the deer and drew the dagger from her belt, swinging it with everything she had. But to the deer, her struggle was no more threatening than an ant.

The deer swung its antlers, sending the dagger flying, and kicked the charging girl away. Struck by the deer's foreleg and flung through the air, the girl was in terrible pain. It had barely used any force, yet her stomach and chest felt as though holes had been punched through them. Without the strength to stand, all she could do was flip her body over to breathe properly. When she finally managed to turn over, all she saw was a sky absurdly clear — as if mocking her situation.

"Hck, hk. Uwaahh......."

She tried to go after the deer again, but it had already returned to the forest, and the mist-shrouded woods had vanished without a trace, as if they had never been there.

All that remained on the wasteland were the wretched sole survivor who had caused everyone's death and the bodies of those she had loved. To Karamsa, it all felt like a dream. If she opened her eyes and got up, Cheche would be pouting about why she was so late. Salki and Tenger would be asking how to feed the baby sheep's milk. Why couldn't she hear any voices?

Recalling the faces of those already dead, one by one, Karamsa made a vow deep in her heart. From this day forward, she would live to kill that deer.

She swore to herself that she would not rest a single day in pursuit of revenge for her people.