Welcome to the Team

"Whoosh!"

The arrow shot swiftly toward the woods ahead.

The instant his fingers released the bowstring and the arrow flew, Morgan suddenly had a powerful premonition.

"That shot is going to hit!"

This wasn't some blind, mystical hunch. It was an ability granted by his LV2 Archery.

He had a feeling that every arrow he shot was completely under his control.

It was a skill that came naturally to every archer who reached LV2 Archery.

Morgan clearly felt it just after he released the arrow.

Beside him, Kili's breathing grew noticeably more hurried.

Of everyone there, Morgan himself should have been the most nervous.

But Morgan had competed in major tournaments in his previous life and had long since weathered all kinds of high-pressure situations. He barely knew what nervousness felt like. The more intense the competition, the more his fighting spirit flared and the more focused he became.

Since Morgan wasn't nervous at all, the young dwarf Kili was the one left feeling the pressure.

It was like any competition in his previous life. No matter how good the slogans before the event sounded—"Friendship first, competition second"—everyone knew what was really going on.

As long as you could win, who the hell cared about friendship?

No one entered a contest without wanting to win.

They were both men, and there were so many people watching.

And they were standing in front of the Dwarf King's "uncle," Thorin Oakenshield, and all his dwarf companions.

When it came to archery, his greatest strength, Kili was naturally a hundred times more unwilling to lose to this human, Morgan.

Morgan was no different. This contest was a great opportunity to show what he could do.

It concerned his pride, and whether he could successfully join the Expedition Team.

"I'll go take a look."

Morgan's shot meant the contest was over. Now all that mattered was the result.

A few of the dwarves behind them, eager to find out what had happened, immediately hurried toward the nearby woods.

Before long, two of them came back, each carrying an arrow.

Both arrows had hit birds—unlucky little black birds about the size of an adult's palm.

But one arrow had hit a single bird.

The other had pierced two!

The shot had been so powerful that the arrow had gone right through both birds, skewering them like meat on a barbecue spit.

"Here they come!"

"Who won?"

"Was it Kili or Morgan?"

"They both hit!"

"Wow, who shot that? One arrow hit two birds!"

As soon as the two dwarves returned with the birds, the others rushed over, chattering excitedly.

"Everyone, make way. We have to compare the arrows to see who won."

The dwarves carrying the birds came forward, and Morgan and Kili walked over as well.

Everyone gathered around.

Even Gandalf and Thorin Oakenshield, who had kept his usual cool demeanor, joined them.

Bilbo stood outside the crowd, continually peeking between the others to see.

The arrows weren't likely to differ much in length or appearance.

But Morgan's bow and arrows had been made by humans, while Kili's had been crafted by dwarves.

There had to be some differences.

In truth, the two archers could identify their own arrows at a glance.

It was a simple matter of observation.

But the others, who didn't use bows, naturally wouldn't know that.

So they needed to compare the arrows to make the result clear to everyone.

When the two arrows, each with a bird skewered on it, were placed in front of the contestants,

Morgan recognized his double kill at a glance and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He had used a little trick during the contest.

Given their skill, hitting a bird in those conditions wasn't particularly difficult.

The better an archer became, the less the contest was about simple marksmanship and the more it was about patience.

Morgan's trick was to let Kili shoot first.

The moment Kili hit a bird, the others would be startled and fly away.

That would give Morgan a chance to hit two birds with one arrow.

Only then could he win the contest beyond dispute.

Otherwise, if they both hit just one bird, how would they decide who won?

Of course, all this depended on Morgan being skilled enough to hit two birds at once.

He couldn't just be a lucky fool who happened to stumble onto a win.

"I lost."

"No need to look. This one's mine."

Looking at the two arrows, Kili pointed to the one that had hit a single bird before even taking his own arrow out to compare. He admitted defeat without hesitation.

Morgan could recognize his own arrow, and so could Kili.

As mentioned before, most dwarves were stubborn—unwaveringly so.

But they were also straightforward, hearty, and forthright.

A win was a win, and a loss was a loss!

Kili wasn't the kind of dwarf who couldn't accept defeat.

"Morgan's archery really is better than mine."

Kili smiled at Morgan. He looked a little reluctant, but still admitted defeat openly. That was already quite gracious of him.

"It was just luck."

"You know your shot scared all the birds out of the woods."

"So..."

Morgan was even more straightforward. He not only humbly credited his victory to luck, but also explained why.

He gave Kili such an easy way to save face that it would have been hard for Kili to hold a grudge against him.

Sure enough, as soon as Morgan finished speaking, Kili smiled. The gloom on his face eased considerably.

"You don't need to comfort me, Morgan. Hitting two birds with one arrow on a night like this isn't something you can do just by getting lucky."

"I hope we get the chance to compete again."

Kili shook his head, smiling a little bashfully.

After all, for a young dwarf like Kili, who didn't have much experience, asking a human he'd known for less than half a day for archery tips was a little embarrassing.

"I'm sure we will."

"We're friends, aren't we?"

Morgan clapped Kili on the shoulder with a big-brotherly smile.

Morgan was enjoying Kili's praise.

The two sides of the wager had now learned who won.

The dwarves gambling together nearby soon broke into cheers and groans.

Those who had bet on Morgan were all smiles.

Those who had bet on Kili were cursing up a storm.

Dwarves had always been a blunt lot.

Morgan had won the contest cleanly, without acting the least bit arrogant afterward.

It was hard for anyone to dislike him.

Even Thorin Oakenshield, watching Kili lose to Morgan and then chat with him enthusiastically,

had to admit that this human, Morgan, was indeed quite impressive.

He placed tremendous importance on this expedition to the Lonely Mountain. It was practically an all-or-nothing gamble.

He naturally wanted as many powerful people like Morgan as he could get.

Of course, there was one condition: the company had to remain under his control.

Now that the misunderstanding had been cleared up,

it was time for him to step in.

With that in mind, Thorin Oakenshield came forward and smiled at Morgan.

"The misunderstanding earlier was my fault."

"Now, I'd like to formally invite you to join my company. Morgan, would you give me that honor?"

Looking at Thorin Oakenshield's sincere expression,

Morgan suddenly felt that he had gained a new understanding of the Dwarf King.

"Of course. It would be my honor, Your Highness."

Morgan placed one hand over his chest and bowed slightly to show his respect.

Thorin Oakenshield was very pleased with Morgan's response. Taking Morgan by both hands, he raised him up and laughed heartily. "Welcome to the company!"