The sound of crickets chirping roused me from sleep before sunrise. Quietly, I slipped out of the tent, careful not to wake Emma. We were sharing a home now, but with separate beds. While living together might seem premature, it wasn’t unusual for elves, even at the start of a relationship. Still, I felt it wasn’t the right time to take things further. Our bodies were still too young, even if our souls weren’t.

  In this world, humans could marry as young as thirteen with parental consent, but my morality, shaped by another life, demanded we wait until both of us were older. Love should transcend the judgment of others, but I couldn’t ignore my own sense of ethics. With a lifespan stretching endlessly ahead, there was no harm in taking things slow.

  The village had become more crowded lately—not just with green elves and new families, but with attention. My victory over the slavers and the prophecy surrounding me had thrust me into the spotlight. I couldn’t go anywhere without someone seeking my advice or approval.

  My father, usually stoic and composed, had unwittingly revealed my identity during a drunken celebration. He’d let slip the prophecy to a member of Luna’s old village. My mother, furious, dragged him by his ear into their tent. The yelling that followed could be heard all over the camp. Though spoken so quickly I could hardly catch it, I distinctly heard a few words that were not child-friendly.

  Now, everyone knew the prophecy. The memory of it lingered, a heavy weight:

  The Prophecy of the Elven King

  Do not fear, children of our race, for a new King shall rise from the ashes of the fallen. He shall possess the true magic our ancestors sought to gift us, and his golden eyes shall mark his arrival.

  His awakening will bear fruit, restoring the green elves long thought lost. He shall be a father to their race and create its first mother.

  Wielding death in each hand, he shall reclaim that which was stolen and find what was lost. The Threshold of Worlds will choose him as its master.

  His wrath shall burn brighter than the stars and yet colder than the frost dragon's breath. Those who wrong his people will tremble, their wicked gods powerless to save them.

  He will know his destiny by recalling his birth in another world. A mortal human reborn as a pureblood elf, hailing from a place called Michigan in a kingdom named the United States.

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  Thanks to this, I now bore the title “The Father” among the green elves. Reverent whispers followed me wherever I went. To make matters worse, a new system prompt appeared, confirming my status:

  New Title Gained: The Once Unsung Hero

  Your actions in this and your previous life have proven you a hero twice over. In your past life, though others maligned your name, your son defended your honor. The corruption that defamed you was exposed, and your wise teachings inspired countless people. Many religions now revere you as a saint.

  Dropping to my knees, I let out a dramatic cry of despair. "Nooooo!" It was impossible to ignore how much I loathed this development.

  Emma found me in my misery, her smirk giving away her amusement. “Hero title, huh?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” I replied, sulking.

  Despite my reluctance, I threw myself back into work. The world wasn’t going to fix itself. Zotherg and his elemental contacts had recently uncovered several dungeons in the area. Among them, a low-level dungeon with skeletons that could help us train to level 100, a high-level beast-filled dungeon, and an unusual one with dense walls and unknown contents. The unique dungeon promised special rewards for its first clear, but Zotherg couldn’t determine what lay inside. For now, the skeleton dungeon was our best bet to prepare for what was to come.

  I sought out my father for advice on leveling and classes. He explained that classes became available at level 100, while subclasses could be chosen as early as level 20. Subclasses, though weaker, helped those in dangerous professions survive long enough to obtain a full class. His own experience illustrated the trade-offs:

  “I chose Duelist first,” he said, “which excels in single combat and dual-wielding but gives a penalty to protecting others. When the need arose, I took the Defender subclass to counteract that weakness. It works, but it’s not ideal.”

  The options available to me at level 100 would depend on my stats, skills, and abilities. What choices would I face? It was a question I pondered as I prepared for the coming trials.

  Life in the village continued to evolve. I focused on helping it flourish, from training new recruits to improving defenses. Building the wall was progressing steadily, and permanent homes were slowly taking shape. I couldn't help but think about our long-term survival. We needed strength—not just for ourselves but for the countless green elves suffering in slavery across the world.

  The memory of the slavers still haunted me. I could see the faces of the green elf children, their wide eyes full of hope and fear. My heart ached with the weight of responsibility. Had I done the right thing in breaking the curse? Was it worth the suffering it had caused? I couldn’t change the past, but I could shape the future.

  And I would. No more would my people live in chains. Someday, there would be no more slaves—not in my village, not in this world.

  No more.