Black Hand!

After leaving Sain Underground City, Sithran clenched her fist, feeling as if none of it were real.

She'd rested at a Campfire and not only fully restored her status, but actually leveled up?

She'd simply tapped her finger on that strange-looking panel and gotten stronger just like that?

The souls she'd used to level up had come from monsters she'd worked hard to defeat, but it still felt unreal.

Elves lived for around three hundred years on average. With a little exercise or some life-extending magic, they could easily live to four hundred—four times as long as humans.

Throughout history, one question had never gone away: why hadn't the long-lived elves replaced humans as the most powerful race?

There were two reasons. First, elves had a low chance of conceiving. They could "work" day and night for years and still not get pregnant.

Second, elves were less enthusiastic about learning than humans.

It was as if the God of Creation had deliberately balanced the elves' strength. Their long lives came with a trade-off: learning a new skill took them longer than it did humans.

There was nothing wrong with their intelligence or comprehension, but some unseen force seemed to prevent them from learning a completely unfamiliar skill in a short time.

The same went for training. It took elves longer than humans to advance their Job Level by one rank.

But in Sain Underground City, all that had changed dramatically!

Sithran could feel that gaining these few levels in the dungeon had made her as strong as one or two years of training in the outside world.

One day's work was worth a whole year.

She sucked in a sharp breath, thinking, That's terrifying.

She had to bring her fellow elves here, too!

But before that...

She looked up at the sky. It was still early. She should stop by the weapons shop.

The moment Gong Qiying had disappeared, the Great Shield and lance he'd lent her had vanished along with him. But the Shield Thrust had already left a deep impression on her.

She got antsy if she went a minute without holding up a shield.

Lances were easy enough to buy. She soon found one that suited her. Its point was made from the horn of a high-ranking monster and set with a Poison-type magic gem. Even the slightest scrape would poison an enemy.

The shopkeeper told her the lance had never sold, despite its excellent quality. Nobody liked Poison-type weapons. Everyone wanted fast-paced fights, and few had the patience to wait for their prey to weaken from poison.

So when he learned Sithran wanted to buy it, he was so moved that he gave her a twenty-percent discount.

Sithran inspected the lance in her hand. The Poison-type gem had given its tip an eerie, inky green sheen. She'd originally wanted a fire- or lightning-type weapon, but when she saw this lance, she suddenly thought—

The problem with Shield Thrust was that it didn't do much damage and took a long time. Why not poison the enemy?

I'm a genius, she thought gleefully. She'd have to show off to Mareda next time she saw him.

But Great Shields weren't so easy to come by. She had to visit several weapons shops before she found one that was passable. It worked well enough, but it didn't feel as good as the one Gong Qiying had lent her.

"Well, well, if it isn't the long-ears. What brings you out to buy weapons?"

Just as Sithran was heading home with the shield in her arms, a few unwelcome visitors showed up.

"Did the dungeon monsters beat you until you were crying for your mommy, and you lost your weapons while running away?"

Her face darkened at once.

The newcomers were three young human men, all dressed like stereotypical thugs. They looked like lanky, wired young punks.

Sithran knew them. They were notorious racists in the neighborhood and had gotten into conflicts with plenty of nonhuman races. But they usually only bullied ordinary people. This was the first time they'd picked a fight with Sithran, a Silver-rank adventurer.

Have they gotten stronger? she wondered. Without a glance in their direction, she kept walking.

"My big bro's talking to you!"

One of the underlings reached for Sithran. Her eyes narrowed, and she was about to strike when the man they called their big bro stopped him.

"Didn't we agree I'd get to practice today?"

The big bro glared at his underling, who sheepishly backed off.

"I'm Morgan, the Boss of this street. I hear you long-ears are an adventurer. I came to find you today—hey, hey! Stop right there!"

While he was talking, Sithran had already walked several meters away.

"Ya Yi, Ya Er, stop her!"

"Got it, boss!" x2

Seeing that the commotion had drawn the attention of passersby, Sithran reluctantly turned around and said:

"Get lost."

"Whoa, someone's got a temper," Morgan said with a laugh. "Just hear me out. No need to be so difficult."

"What do you want, exactly?" She felt like she was trying to reason with a lunatic.

"Well, lately I've had this feeling that something good was going to happen. Then, while I was working security for a wealthy family, a master noticed me and taught me a Battle Skill. Heh."

Morgan excitedly took off his gloves, revealing a pair of glossy black hands.

"This is the Battle Skill the master taught me. It's called Black Hand! I've been looking for someone to try it out on. Come on, you nonhumans—see what you think!"

"Uh..."

It was obvious this thug was picking fights at random. If it weren't Sithran, he'd have gone after some other long-ears, a shorty, or even someone Fluffy.

If I beat him half to death, he won't bother anyone else, right? she thought, raising her shield.

To her surprise, Morgan stopped as soon as he saw it.

"What are you doing?" Sithran had just gotten into position for Shield Thrust, and now she was utterly confused.

"That's not fair! I'm unarmed, and you've got a Great Shield. How am I supposed to fight you?"

Sithran was so exasperated she almost laughed. "You pick a fight with me, and now you want to dictate how I defend myself?"

"This isn't picking a fight. This is a sacred duel," Morgan said righteously. "Want me to toss my glove at your feet to make it official?"

"You're seriously sick in the head." Sithran thrust her lance without another thought. To her surprise, the kid was pretty quick and managed to dodge.

As he dodged, he shouted, "If you've got guts, throw away that shield! What kind of hero needs a shield?"

"Yeah, yeah! A coward who hides behind a shield!" x2 His two underlings were just as enthusiastic.

Veins bulged on Sithran's forehead. She suddenly hurled her lance. It flew past Morgan's scalp, instantly taking a huge chunk of his hair with it.

The whole crowd fell silent.

With a loud thud, she dropped the heavy Great Shield to the ground. Clenching her fists, she grinned menacingly. "Come on, then. I can beat you up with my bare hands, too."

"Heh."

Morgan was sweating bullets, but forced himself to laugh. "Good! I like a straightforward person!"

Ha! That stupid elf fell for it!

He charged at her gleefully, his black hands shining. This Battle Skill increased his strength. There was no way a slender elf like her could withstand it!

He'd spent ages picking his target. A broad-shouldered Orc? Pass. A muscular dwarf? Pass.

When he saw Sithran, small and slender, with no sign of strength, his eyes lit up.

"Haha, get him, boss!" x2

"Take this! Black—"

"Crack!"

Morgan went flying.

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