Saving The Monster Race Starts With Breeding The Elf Village

For a moment, none of the elves moved.

They simply stared at the mountain of cases, their minds struggling to process what Luca was implying.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, they began to approach.

The first few elves reached out tentatively, their fingers brushing against the strange smooth material.

It was unlike anything they’d ever felt—not quite wood, not quite metal, but something else entirely.

Cool to the touch. Sturdy. Mysterious.

They then lifted the cases carefully, surprised by how light they were despite their size and one by one, more elves joined in, each picking up a case of their own.

Even those watching from the tree platforms leaned down, craning their necks, some climbing lower to get a better view.

Soon, most elves present was holding a case of some kind—larger ones for the adults, smaller ones scaled down for the children, all identical in design but varying in size.

The clearing fell into an expectant hush.

And then—

The first case opened.

The elf who opened it—a young woman named Syla—let out a gasp that seemed to come from somewhere deep in her soul.

Her hands began to tremble. Her eyes grew wide and luminous, reflecting something that made everyone around her lean in closer.

Inside the case, nestled in foam cut precisely to its shape...was a compound bow.

The very same one Luca had been showing them, the one that had allowed Luna to shoot a perfect bullseye, the one that had seemed like an impossible treasure from another world.

”The bow...” Syla’s voice cracked. ”I-It’s the bow. The compound bow that Luna shot! I have one! I actually have one in my hands!”

Around her, more cases were opening.

And more gasps echoed through the clearing.

”ME TOO!”

”I have one as well!”

”Look, look, mine has one too!”

”Everyone! Everyone has one!”

The clearing erupted into chaos—but this time, it was chaos of pure, unbridled joy.

Elves held up their bows like trophies, turning them this way and that, marveling at the craftsmanship, the impossible lightness, the intricate systems of cables and cams that they now understood were the key to everything.

”They’re all different colors!” Someone shouted.

And it was true. The bows came in every color imaginable—deep forest greens, sky blues, sunset oranges, midnight purples, and everything in between.

One elf held up her bow with absolute reverence.

”Mine is green! It’s exactly the color of the forest canopy! I could hide in the trees and no one would ever see me!”

Another elf, practically vibrating with excitement, thrust her bow into the air.

”Forget just green—look at mine! It’s camouflage! Actual camouflage! Look at the pattern! I’ll literally disappear against the bark!”

Near the front of the crowd, a little girl looking no older than eight had picked up a smaller case, clearly designed for a child’s hands.

She fumbled with the latches for a moment before it sprang open, and when she saw what was inside, her face lit up like the sun breaking through clouds.

”LOOK! LOOK EVERYONE!”

She held up her bow with both hands, showing it off to anyone who would look.

”Mine is PINK! It’s pink! It’s so adorable! I have the most adorable bow in the whole village!”

Her mother, standing nearby with her own bow—a beautiful silver-gray—laughed and knelt down to admire her daughter’s treasure.

Meanwhile, Luna stood frozen, holding her own case. Slowly, reverently, she opened it.

Inside lay a compound bow of sleek, elegant black.

Not a dull black, but a deep, lustrous black that seemed to absorb light and depth into itself.

It was beautiful. It was perfect.

She lifted it out carefully, feeling the weight or rather, the lack of it in her hands.

The grip fit perfectly, as if it had been made specifically for her.

The cams turned smoothly when she tested them.

The string hummed with potential.

It was her bow.

Hers.

And then something clicked in her mind.

She looked up at the remaining cases still stacked behind Luca—there were so many, enough for everyone still waiting, enough for the elves watching from above, enough for—

She turned to Luca, her eyes wide with dawning realization.

”Luca...”

Her voice came out barely above a whisper.

”Does this mean...does this mean that every single box here has a bow? That every single one of us—”

She couldn’t even finish the sentence. It was too much. Too impossible.

But Luca just smiled that warm, gentle smile of his.

”Of course.”

The word seemed to echo through the suddenly silent clearing.

He raised his voice, addressing everyone present.

”There are exactly one hundred and twelve female elves in this village. Old, young, in between—all of you. And for every single one, I brought back a compound bow from my world.”

He paused, letting that sink in before saying,

”But that’s not all.”

He raised his hand, and another portal shimmered into existence beside him. More cases began to emerge—different shapes this time, different sizes.

”All the equipment you’ll need. Stabilizers. Sights. Release aids. Everything required to use these bows to their full potential.”

The cases kept coming, stacking up in neat rows beside the bow cases.

”And arrows too. Plenty of arrows.”

More boxes. More cases.

All filled with arrows of different types—practice arrows, hunting arrows, arrows meant to deal fatal damage—enough to last them for years, maybe longer.

The elves could only stare, their minds struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what they were seeing.

”So...”

Luca put his hands behind his back, his confident grin softened into something almost shy.

”...with all of this, you won’t have to worry about making bows or arrows for a long time. You should be well settled.”

He glanced around at the stunned faces, at the elves clutching their new treasures, at the children holding up their colorful bows with pure delight.

”And I hope my little gift to you all is...satisfactory.”

For one heartbeat, there was silence.

Then—

”SATISFACTORY?!”

The shout came from somewhere in the crowd, and it broke the dam completely.

”What are you talking about, Hero?! This isn’t satisfactory—this is miraculous!”

”I’ve lived for two hundred years and I have never seen anything like this!”

One elf even burst into tears, great heaving sobs of joy as she clutched her new bow to her chest.

”I can finally shoot again...I can finally shoot like we used to...like real elves...”

Another elf grabbed her sister and spun her around in a wild dance.

”We have bows! We have bows! We’re not helpless anymore!”

”I feel like it’s my birthday!” Someone shouted. ”No—better than my birthday! On my birthday, only I get presents! Today, everyone gets presents!”

”This is the best day ever! The best day ever!”

The clearing dissolved into pure, unadulterated celebration.

Elves hugged each other, cried on each other’s shoulders, showed off their bows to anyone who would look, and generally lost their minds with joy.

And then—

They noticed him.

The one who made it all possible. The one who came from another world, who taught them, who believed in them, who gave them back their heritage.

And they moved—

Every single one of them surrounded him, ambushed him, started to hug him.

”Thank you, Hero! Thank you so much!”

”You’re truly the greatest hero in the world! You’re the best!”

Then more joined. And more. And more.

Within seconds, Luca was completely surrounded, buried under a tide of grateful elves.

”We love you, Luca!”

”We’ll never forget this! Never!”

”Why did you come to us so late?! We’ve been waiting for someone like you!”

Hands reached for him from every direction, patting his shoulders, his arms, his back. Elves pressed against him, wrapped their arms around him, held on like he might disappear if they let go.

Some of the bolder ones started planting kisses on his cheeks, his forehead, anywhere they could reach.

And through it all, Lulu somehow managed to climb her way through the crowd and onto his shoulders.

She wrapped her arms around his head from above and peppered his forehead with kisses.

”I LOVE YOU, LUCA! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! YOU’RE MY FAVORITE HERO EVER!”

And soon, what had been a group hug was rapidly descending into a good-natured brawl for access to Luca.

”My turn! Let me hug him!”

”No, me! You already had a turn!”

”I barely touched him! Let me through!”

”Get off his shoulders, Lulu, that’s not fair!”

”Never! He’s mine now!”

And while Luca was being torn apart by the mob of adoring elves, all the while Nyx laughed from the sidelines with undisguised amusement—

—near the mountain of cases, a small group of little girls had gathered.

They were even younger than Lisa—tiny things with big curious eyes and unsteady legs, the youngest elves in the village.

They had watched the older girls and women receive their beautiful bows with wonder, and now they wanted their own treasures.

One by one, they found boxes sized for them—the smaller containers that Luca had thoughtfully provided for the village’s youngest members.

Most of them opened their cases to reveal adorable little compound bows, scaled perfectly for their small hands.

Pink ones, purple ones, bright yellow ones—each girl clutched her new treasure with unbridled joy, showing them off to each other with squeals of delight.

But one little girl—a tiny thing with brown hair that her mother had clearly done that morning—kept searching.

Box after box, she opened them, hoping to find one for herself.

But each time, the case was either too big or already taken.

Her lower lip began to tremble.

”I-I can’t find one.” She whispered to herself, her voice thick with impending tears. ”They’re all gone. I’m not getting a bow...”

She was about to give up when something caught her eye.

Tucked away behind some of the larger cases, half-hidden in the shadows, was a box.

It was even smaller than the others—tiny, really, almost hidden from view but thicker.

Her eyes lit up upon sight.

”A small one! Just like the Hero said!”

She scrambled over to it, her earlier sadness forgotten.

With great effort, she dragged the case out from its hiding spot and laid it flat on the ground.

It was heavier than she expected, but she was too excited to notice.

”Please be a pink one.” She whispered as she fumbled with the latches. ”Please please please be a pink one...”

The case sprang open.

And Fefe—for that was her name—stared at what was inside.

But instead of joy, confusion spread across her small face.

”That’s...That’s not right.”

Inside the case, nestled in foam just like all the others, was something she had never seen before.

It wasn’t shaped like the beautiful compound bows her friends had found.

It wasn’t shaped like any bow she’d ever seen.

It was strange.

It had a long tube, and a handle, and another handle sticking out to the side.

There were strange markings on it, and had a round barrel like thing at the bottom.

One of her friends, a girl named Pippa, noticed Fefe’s confused expression and wandered over.

”What’s wrong, Fefe? Why do you look so confused?”

Fefe pointed at the open case.

”Look at my bow. It doesn’t look like the bow the hero showed at all. It looks so...weird.”

Pippa peered inside. Her nose wrinkled.

”Oh yeah, that is weird. It’s so clunky. And it has a strange shape. And look—”

She pointed.

”It doesn’t have a string.”

Another girl joined them, leaning over to see.

”Maybe someone forgot to put the string on? Like they forgot to finish making it?”

”Yeah!” Pippa nodded sagely. ”That must be it. Someone forgot to put the string on your bow.”

Fefe’s face fell. ”So...so it’s broken?”

Pippa patted her shoulder comfortingly.

”You should go give it to the Hero! Tell him about it. Maybe he can put the string on for you!”

Fefe’s face brightened immediately.

”Okay! I’ll do that!”

She reached into the case and grabbed the strange object with both hands.

”Whoa!”

The weight of it nearly pulled her over. She staggered, struggling to keep it upright.

”It’s so heavy! It’s really, really heavy!”

But Fefe was determined. She grunted and strained, managing to lift the mysterious object with both arms wrapped around it.

Then she turned and began trudging toward the crowd of adults, dragging the thing along with her.

”Hero! Hero!”

She called out in her small, high-pitched voice.

”Hero, look! My bow is broken! My bow is broken! Can you help me fix it? Can you help me put a string on it?”

Her voice was small, barely audible over the celebrating crowd.

But Luca heard it.

He was currently being kissed on both cheeks by enthusiastic elves, his hair thoroughly ruffled, his shirt pulled in seventeen different directions.

But something in that tiny voice made him turn his head.

”Huh?” He blinked. ”The string isn’t attached? That shouldn’t be possible, I made sure—”

He stopped.

His eyes focused on what Fefe was carrying.

And in that moment, every drop of color drained from his face.

His eyes went wide—wider than anyone had ever seen them.

His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

For the first time since arriving in the village, Luca looked genuinely, utterly terrified.

”GET DOWN!”

The shout tore from his throat with such force that the elves closest to him flinched.

”EVERYONE GET DOWN! GET ON THE GROUND RIGHT NOW!”

The elves stared at him in confusion.

What was happening?

Why was he screaming?

What was wrong?

”I SAID GET DOWN, DAMMMIT!”

Luca roared again, his voice cracking with urgency.

”I’M NOT JOKING AROUND! JUST DO WHAT I SAY!”

The sheer panic in his voice cut through their confusion.

Without understanding why, they obeyed.

Elves dropped to the ground, pressing themselves flat against the earth.

Leona went down immediately, pulling Luna with her.

Lulu face-planted into the dirt without hesitation.

Even Nyx, for all her usual composure, dropped into a crouch behind her tree.

Within seconds, every elf in the clearing was pressed to the ground, heart pounding, utterly bewildered.

The elves above had also taken cover just in case.

And they all couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was happening?

One moment they had been celebrating, and the next they were acting like they were under attack.

But what truly shocked them was Luca’s face.

The Hero—their confident, unshakeable, always-smiling hero—looked absolutely terrified.

And there was a reason.

Because what Fefe was holding in her small, innocent hands was not a bow.

It was not a recurve bow, not a compound bow, not any kind of bow at all.

It was, without question, the most horrifying thing a little girl like her could possibly be carrying.

She was holding a freaking Tommy Gun!

Metal and Wood exterior. Big barrel. Compact frame.

And her little hand wrapped around the grip, her index finger resting naturally along the frame—

Right under the trigger.

Ready to slip into place at the slightest shift in grip.