My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible - Chapter 481 A Misunderstanding? (2)
Chapter 481 A Misunderstanding? (2)
The three minotaurs stood frozen against the ancient tree trunks, their massive frames pressed against bark that had witnessed centuries of forest history.
The sword wielder’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, his bovine features fixed on Liam One with an expression of wariness.
Liam One waited patiently, still holding the injured Tarok by the scruff of his thick neck. The wounded minotaur had stopped struggling, his broken wrist cradled against his chest, his earlier aggression completely evaporated into pained acceptance of his situation.
The silence stretched for perhaps ten seconds before the sword wielder finally spoke, his voice carrying a resignation that suggested he understood exactly how precarious their position had become.
“We attacked because you’re human.”
The words hung in the air between them, simple and direct.
Liam One’s eyebrows rose slightly, surprise flickering across his features. “That’s it? Just because I’m human?”
The sword wielder’s jaw clenched, muscles working beneath his hide as though he were chewing on words he didn’t want to speak. “The Eldwood Forest belongs to the monster races. Humans are not welcome here. They never have been. Your kind comes to our territory, hunts our people, destroys our homes, takes what isn’t theirs to take. Every human who enters this forest is an enemy by definition.”
He gestured with his free hand at the trees around them, the ancient growth that stretched in every direction. “You walked into our land as though you had a right to be here, as though centuries of conflict and bloodshed meant nothing. Tarok saw you and reacted as any of us would have—with the anger our people have earned through generations of human aggression.”
Liam One processed this explanation. The tension between monster races and humans was public knowledge.
The Eldwood Forest specifically was known as monster territory, a vast wilderness where human civilization’s influence ended and the domain of non-human races began. Adventurers sometimes entered seeking rare materials or hunting dangerous creatures, but they did so with full knowledge that they were trespassing in hostile territory.
From the minotaurs’ perspective, Liam One’s casual walk through their forest probably looked like exactly the kind of arrogant human behavior that had fueled their hatred for generations.
Liam One shook his head slowly, then laughed—a genuine sound of amusement that seemed completely incongruous with the tension of the moment. The minotaurs flinched slightly at the unexpected reaction, their grips tightening on their weapons as though expecting the human’s mirth to transform into violence.
“I understand,” Liam One said, his laughter fading into a slight smile. “I won’t say I wasn’t expecting something like this. The history between humans and monster races is complicated, and territorial disputes tend to run deep.”
He lifted Tarok slightly, drawing the injured minotaur’s attention, then extended his arm toward the three standing creatures in a gesture that was almost gentle despite the casualness with which he handled several hundred kilograms of living being.
“Take him. Get that wrist treated properly—it’s a clean break, should heal well if you set it correctly.”
The sword wielder hesitated, clearly not trusting the sudden shift from hostility to what appeared to be clemency. His eyes darted between Liam One’s face and Tarok’s slumped form, searching for the trap, the hidden condition that would make this offer something other than what it appeared to be.
Liam One sighed, a sound of mild exasperation. “I’m not going to attack you for accepting your injured companion back. Consider this a lesson learned on both sides—you’ve learned that attacking strangers based solely on their race can have painful consequences, and I’ve learned that walking through monster territory will generate automatic hostility regardless of my actual intentions.”
He gave Tarok a slight push forward, sending the injured minotaur stumbling toward his companions. The war hammer wielder caught him, supporting his weight while shooting wary glances at Liam One as though expecting a sudden strike now that their guard was partially lowered.
“Next time,” Liam One continued, his tone shifting into something that carried a subtle edge beneath its conversational pleasantness, “perhaps consider that not every human who enters your forest is here to hunt or destroy. Some of us might have other purposes entirely. And attacking without asking questions first tends to end badly for everyone involved.”
The sword wielder steadied Tarok with one hand, his posture still tense but fractionally less hostile than moments before. “You’re unusually calm about being attacked on sight by four armed opponents.”
“I’m confident in my ability to handle threats when they arise,” Liam One said simply. Your friend will recover, you’ve all learned something valuable about making assumptions, and we can all move forward from this encounter without adding unnecessary corpses to the forest floor. That seems like a reasonably positive outcome given how this situation started.”
He was about to turn away, to continue his search for Rikilda and Bethan deeper in the forest, when a thought occurred to him. The minotaurs lived in this territory, knew its geography and inhabitants far better than he did. They might have information that could save him days or weeks of aimless wandering.
Liam One stopped mid-turn and looked back at the group. “Actually, before I go—do you know where any dragons live in this forest? Specifically, I’m looking for a red dragon or a blue dragon. Any information about their territories or general direction would be helpful.”
The question seemed to catch the minotaurs off guard. The sword wielder’s expression shifted from wary hostility to genuine confusion, his bovine features managing to convey perplexity despite their non-human structure.
“Dragons?” he repeated, as though making sure he’d heard correctly. “You’re asking about dragons?”
“Yes. Red or blue specifically, though any dragon related information would be useful at this point.”
The sword wielder exchanged glances with his companions, some unspoken communication passing between them. Then he shook his massive head, horns catching what little sunlight penetrated the forest canopy.
“There are no dragons in the Eldwood Forest. Haven’t been for at least a century, maybe longer.”
Liam One’s slight frown was the only visible sign of his disappointment. The information wasn’t what he’d hoped to hear, but it was better than continuing his search in a location where his targets didn’t even exist.
“I see. Thank you for the information.”
He nodded once to the group, then turned and walked away. His posture was relaxed, his pace unhurried, as though he’d just finished a casual conversation rather than a confrontation that had involved broken bones and immediate threats of violence.
The minotaurs watched him go, their gazes fixed on his retreating back with expressions that mixed lingering wariness, confusion about the encounter’s resolution, and something that might have been reluctant relief that they’d survived the interaction intact.
Liam One’s form disappeared into the forest’s deeper shadows, swallowed by the ancient trees and perpetual twilight of the canopy’s shade.
The four minotaurs stood in silence for perhaps thirty seconds after the human vanished from sight. Then the spear wielder spoke, his voice carrying an edge of uncertainty that suggested he was still processing what had just happened.
“Are we going to report this to the tribe leader?”
The sword wielder supported more of Tarok’s weight as the injured minotaur’s legs wavered. His expression was thoughtful, calculation replacing the earlier aggression.
“Yes,” he said finally. “The tribe needs to know there’s a human of unusual strength in the forest.”
The war hammer wielder grunted agreement. “That wasn’t normal human strength. That was something else entirely.”
“Agreed. Which is why we report it immediately.” The leader began guiding their injured companion back toward their settlement, his three-fingered grip careful not to jostle Tarok’s broken wrist. “The tribe leader will want to decide whether this human represents a threat requiring collective action or simply an anomaly passing through our territory.”
“He let us go,” the spear wielder pointed out. “Even gave Tarok back. That doesn’t seem like enemy behavior.”
“He also broke Tarok’s wrist with ease and told us not to make assumptions,” the leader countered. “That’s not exactly friendly either. He’s dangerous. The tribe leader needs that information to prepare for whatever outcomes might develop from having something like him in our forest.
