Round 25: The Old Man

This was an elderly warrior. His hair and beard were already gray, his deep eyes exuded wisdom and calmness. His leather armor was quite worn out, with the leather on his shoulders even curling at the edges. The long sword in his hand was unremarkable—without its divine power, it appeared to be just an ordinary sword. Well-maintained, but showing no trace of magical power. Its cross-shaped hilt was plain, without any intricate decorations, and its handle was simply wrapped in cheap leather. Though its blade was sharp, easy to hold, and likely to last for a long time, it was extremely simple—like an old car that had been driven for twenty years. Even if its owner maintained it strictly according to the repair manual every week, avoiding speeding or any actions that could damage the engine, that wouldn’t change its inherent ordinariness. It could never compare to a top-tier sports car equipped with a micro nuclear fusion engine.

Forty-seven’s anger lessened a bit after realizing he wasn’t the silly girl who had been pestering him repeatedly, but he was still quite displeased.
“Old man, stop this meaningless nonsense…”
Forty-seven raised his giant sword, the blazing flames completely enveloping the blade, causing the air itself to swirl around it due to the intense heat.
“Please wait!” The holy warrior stepped back two more times but still didn’t assume a defensive stance. “Let the battle come when it comes, and end when it ends! I have no ill intentions. I merely formed a wrong impression of you at first. Though you’re not a kind species, you’re certainly not as evil as I—or you—think!”
“Oh?” Such words piqued Forty-seven’s interest. While such words from others might be a tactic to show weakness or deceive the enemy, the person before him was a holy warrior. Over these days, by interacting with two holy warriors, Forty-seven had come to realize that when faced with evil, holy warriors might take detours, endure, or even temporarily yield, but they would never compromise by claiming evil isn’t evil—holy warriors were that stubborn. Good and evil, justice and corruption—those were almost the only things in their minds every day.

Forty-seven turned his head slightly, a habit he had forgotten long ago. “I’m not interested in your preaching. There are only two things in this world—things I hate and things I’m not that averse to… Unfortunately, holy warriors fall into the category of things I hate.”
The old holy warrior hung his sword at his waist and spread his hands, seemingly confident that Forty-seven wouldn’t attack suddenly. “Constructed being, though I don’t know what you’ve gone through… Perhaps this is presumptuous, but I still have some questions. I hope you can clear up my doubts.”
The third one. What’s going on these days? Is it some kind of Biological Appraisal Convention?

“Imposing various attributes on others based on their species seems utterly foolish to me, and it’s you holy warriors who are particularly eager to do this.” Forty-seven put down his greatsword; seeing that the other party had no fighting intent, it also dampened his interest. “I don’t have time to chat with you here. If you feel too lonely, I suggest you go to the desert northeast of the forest—there’s a dragon who loves to talk. I think you two would make good friends.”

The old holy warrior remained in a friendly posture, unfazed by Forty-seven’s mocking tone. “You came from the Uther tribe of the night elves, right? What did Uther tell you? To be wary of the night elf priests… or to try hard to keep you? Please tell me—it’s very important to me.”

The holy warrior successfully piqued Forty-seven’s interest, and the idea of turning away was temporarily set aside.

Forty-seven strode forward until he was just an arm’s length away from the holy warrior, looking down at him intently, as if trying to read from his face how he knew he came from Uther’s camp and why he wanted to know what Uther had said to him. Forty-seven’s mouth curved into a mocking smile, his sharp, uneven teeth visible. Subconsciously, he scratched his chin, producing a harsh sound of metal on metal.

Although he was sure the creature before him wasn’t a target he had to eliminate and confident that it wouldn’t suddenly attack him, the old holy warrior was still a bit nervous. After all, the distance between them was now no different from two people standing nose to nose. Yet he didn’t place his hand on his sword hilt or assume any defensive stance. Whether it was to show sincerity or simply not lose the upper hand in terms of demeanor, such composure was rare.

If it had been the other two holy warriors remaining in the elf tribe, they would have screamed, drawn their weapons, and stepped back under such circumstances.

“Well, the color of your beard seems healthy… at least healthier than that old dragon’s beard…” After his inspection, Forty-seven stared into the other man’s eyes for a while. “But I don’t know you. Why should I tell you anything about myself?”

“Anyway, Uther must be very interested in you.” The holy warrior’s gaze was firm, his eyes lined with wrinkles but filled with determination and integrity. “I think he must have learned something about you… or believes he has. But I think he might have some misunderstandings. Would you come with me to see Elder Uther?”

“Have you gotten dementia?” Forty-seven laughed. “I don’t know you, and I don’t like you. I’d be happy to stand by and watch if you get killed by something in this damned forest, yet now you want me to go back to that elf village with you?”

“Sorry, maybe I was indeed reckless… Well then, where are you going? Perhaps I can help you,” the old holy warrior blinked and suddenly wore a teasing expression. “You see, wandering around in this dark forest is extremely difficult for a young person like you, unless you’re an old man like me who’s already accustomed to it!”
“…I guarantee you weren’t even born when I existed in this world.”
“Being young or not doesn’t depend on how long one has lived, but on one’s mindset—impulsiveness and stubbornness are always traits of the young, just like you,” the old holy warrior smiled slightly. After a few minutes of conversation, he seemed to regard 47 as a younger neighbor living next door.
“You little brat with a beard, be careful with your words. Or do you want to experience my youthful vigor?” Despite saying that, 47 hung his sword behind his back and retracted the chain shackles. “Next time you encounter a Four-Clawed Temptation Demon, you might use these words to win its favor. You said you could help me? Is that to tell me that youth and age aren’t necessarily proportional?”
“Do you think I’m lying to you? A holy warrior loyal to his heart never lies,” the mention of the evil Temptation Demon made the holy warrior’s expression change slightly, and his voice paused for a moment. “Perhaps except for white lies… Are you leaving the Sleeping Forest?”
“Oh, I’m glad you figured that out. Then give me some practical advice. My hearing is quite good.” With that, 47 stepped away.
“Hmm… At your pace, it might take a month just to leave the forest. Maybe I should take you to the river so you can follow it—no, you might not be able to tell which tributaries lead outside the forest. Going deeper would only be worse, and I’m worried that the creatures by the river might attack you out of misunderstanding… Taking you out would be a waste of time. I need to see Uther as soon as possible… Actually, wait—it would be best if you came with me to find Uther and then I’d take you out of the forest. Oh, well, you won’t agree…”
47 listened to him talking to himself and realized he indeed had more elderly traits than himself—being easily distracted and talkative.