The Reluctant Hero: Why Is Everyone After Me?-Chapter 133: Ch132 Those That Do Not Belong

Steel hovered inches from flesh.

Luther stood still, not by choice, but because every instinct screamed that moving now would get him skewered.

Elven weapons surrounded them in a tightening ring. Spears pointed forward, bows half-drawn, and blades held low but ready. The elves moved with quiet coordination. Each step was measured; each shift was purposeful. They didn’t shout or rush.

They waited.

Elythra stood in front of him, her shoulders squared, hands raised, but her posture was unyielding. Luther noticed grimly that she positioned herself just slightly ahead of him, blocking at least three direct lines of attack.

He didn’t comment.

"Please," Elythra said evenly, her voice calm despite the spear tip looming close to her chest. "We mean no harm. Any offense we may have caused was unintentional."

The elves did not respond.

Instead, the one who seemed to lead them stepped forward. He was taller than the rest, noticeably taller than Elythra, and broad in a way that made it hard for Luther to see him as just an elf. His armor had deeper etchings, with runes glowing faintly like embers under ash.

"Silence," the elf said coldly. "You will wait."

Elythra’s brow furrowed. "Wait—for what?"

"For the priest," the leader replied. "You may plead your innocence when he arrives."

Luther blinked. "Plead—?"

Elythra’s expression tightened, irritation flickering through her calm demeanor. Before she could respond, Luther leaned slightly to the side, peering around her shoulder.

"Okay," he said cautiously, "I’m going to ask what might be a very stupid question."

The leader’s eyes flicked to him, sharp and assessing.

"If you value your life," the elf warned, "you will remain quiet."

Luther ignored that completely.

"Why are we being treated like enemies?" he asked. "Last I checked, she’s an elf. Shouldn’t that count for something?"

A murmur rippled through the gathered elves.

Elythra stiffened.

Luther glanced at her. "You do know them, right?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"...No," she said.

Luther frowned. "No?"

She hesitated, then shook her head slightly. "I’ve never seen elves like this before."

That made him straighten.

"What do you mean, like this?"

She lowered her voice. "They’re... bigger. Taller. Even their mana signatures are different. Denser."

Luther glanced around more carefully now that panic had dulled into observation.

She wasn’t wrong.

These elves towered over normal humans—and over Elythra too. Their presence felt heavier and more grounded, as if the land leaned toward them. Even the air seemed to shift around their bodies.

"...So," Luther said slowly, "either they’re not elves—"

"They are," Elythra cut in immediately.

He looked at her. "You’re sure?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "If they weren’t, they wouldn’t be able to exist here."

She gestured subtly to the stone beneath their feet, the faint glow threading through it.

"Elven grounds repel monsters and those with harmful intent," she continued. "Illusions don’t hold. Disguises unravel. Anything unclean is pushed out or destroyed."

Luther winced. "That seems... aggressive."

"It’s protective," she corrected. "And it means they can’t be impostors."

He considered that.

"...Okay," he conceded. "Then maybe they’re just very tall elves?"

She gave him a look. "Which human do you know who stands taller than them?"

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

"...Fair."

The leader’s patience snapped.

"Enough," he barked. "You chatter like children."

Both Luther and Elythra fell silent immediately.

Luther, for his part, very much enjoyed continuing to breathe.

The leader took another step forward, his gaze flicking between them, then lingering.

On Luther.

Luther frowned. He hadn’t moved or spoken. He hadn’t done anything particularly noticeable.

Yet—

The leader’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Behind him, the murmurs grew louder.

Luther felt it then.

Not pressure.

Attention.

He shifted uncomfortably as he noticed several elves at the back of the formation craning their necks and whispering among themselves. Fingers pointed subtly. Their gazes locked onto him with something that wasn’t hostility.

It was confusion.

Recognition.

"What?" Luther muttered under his breath.

Elythra noticed too. She glanced back at him, concern flashing briefly across her face before she returned her attention forward.

Before either of them could speak, a female elf stepped out from the ranks. She moved with quiet authority. Her armor was lighter but no less intricate. Her hair was braided tightly down her back.

She leaned in close to the leader and whispered something in his ear.

Then—

She pointed.

Directly at Luther.

Who was still half-hidden behind Elythra.

The leader froze.

Slowly, he turned his head and looked at Luther properly this time.

Their eyes met.

The leader’s breath hitched, just slightly.

His pupils dilated.

For a heartbeat, his expression cracked.

Shock.

Disbelief.

Something like fear.

Then it vanished, masked beneath rigid control.

He straightened abruptly and lowered his weapon.

The surrounding elves stiffened in surprise but did not question him.

"You," the leader said, his voice measured now. "You will come with us."

Luther blinked. "That’s it? No stabbing?"

"You will come," the elf repeated, sharper this time. "To the city."

Elythra’s eyes narrowed. "On what authority?"

The leader turned to her. "On mine."

She hesitated, then inclined her head slightly. "Very well."

Luther leaned toward her. "You trust this?"

"No," she whispered back. "But refusing would be worse."

He sighed. "Figures."

They were escorted forward, weapons still drawn but no longer aimed directly at their throats. Elythra stayed close, subtly guiding Luther as they walked, her hand hovering near his arm as if ready to shield him again.

As they passed between the pillars, Luther felt the air shift—open up.

Something vast waited beyond.

He didn’t see it yet.

But he felt it.

Far away—

An elven elder ran.

His robes fluttered around him as he hurried through a long corridor carved from pale stone and glowing crystal. The walls were etched with reliefs of ancient trees, stars, and figures locked in battle against shapes long faded by time.

His breath came fast.

His footsteps echoed sharply as he reached a massive set of doors at the corridor’s end.

He didn’t knock.

He threw them open.

"You will not believe this!" the elder shouted, stumbling inside.

The chamber beyond was wide and bright, filled with soft green and gold light. At its center stood an elven man unlike any other. He was tall and slender, his presence radiant without effort.

Milk-white hair fell freely down his back. His golden eyes reflected centuries of quiet watchfulness. He wore garments of white and pale green, layered like priestly vestments, the fabric glowing faintly with inner light.

He was beauty given form.

He turned calmly toward the elder.

"You are breathless," he said gently. "That suggests either catastrophe or excitement."

The elder bent forward, hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath.

"A report," he gasped. "From the outer seal."

The man’s expression sharpened slightly. "The seal?"

"Yes," the elder said. "It has been breached."

Silence fell heavy.

The elven man straightened fully now, concern flickering across his serene features. "Then they must be removed at once."

"That would have been the case," the elder said quickly. "If not for... the details."

The man’s brows knit. "Explain."

"One of the intruders," the elder said carefully, "is an elven woman."

The elven man paused. "An exile?"

"Uncertain," the elder replied. "But the other—"

He hesitated.

The room seemed to hold its breath.

"The other is human," the elder finished. "But one who resembles... him."

The elven man went still.

"...Resembles whom?" he asked quietly.

The elder swallowed.

"Yieli."

The chamber froze.

The elven man turned slowly to face the elder fully, his golden eyes wide with disbelief.

"...Yieli?" he repeated.

The name echoed.

And the light trembled.