The moment Bamsı uttered the word "Food," a phrase born from his insatiable appetite, the silence around them was broken by a rumbling stomach. Everyone instinctively turned towards the source of the sound, while Ciri stood there frozen in astonishment. As the seconds ticked by, the woman's face flushed crimson with sheer embarrassment. Leaving aside the physical burden of interdimensional travel, and considering the task of responding to this ambush, she had rapidly depleted the energy remaining in her body; Ciri was truly hungry at this moment.
Seeing this, Igris chuckled softly; he more or less understood the woman's predicament. Just then, Zerinya and her men approached, dragging the captured Dread Lord Kaelith, who was bound tightly. Noticing their arrival, Igris shifted his attention to them and spoke.
"My Lady."
Galadriel, who was conversing with her grandsons a short distance away, checking on their wounds and hearing of their ordeal, noticed she was being addressed and looked at Igris with curiosity. Igris, pointing a hand at the captured prisoner, spoke with solemnity.
"The Dread Lord responsible for the ambush."
Hearing this, although Galadriel experienced a brief moment of surprise at seeing an enemy of such high rank before her, she instantly responded with a cold and detached gaze. However, the one who experienced the true shock was Kaelith upon laying eyes on Galadriel. The man's eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"Why are you in Rivendell?! You should be in Lórien!"
Hearing this, Galadriel stared at the Dread Lord without breaking the impassive, icy expression on her face. Because Elrond had summoned her for an urgent matter, she had set out and arrived here only a day or two ago, without informing anyone. Yet, judging by the Dread Lord's sudden reaction, the enemy forces were gathering serious intelligence regarding her movements as well, and this realization did not please Galadriel in the slightest. Meanwhile, the bound Kaelith thought to himself in seething inner rage.
'I knew it! That so-called Red Scorpion cult is nothing but a bunch of incompetents!'
Sensing this turmoil within the enemy's mind, Galadriel narrowed her eyes slightly. A faint, lingering unease settled within her; she mentally reviewed the conversations and possibilities she had discussed with Gandalf earlier that morning, but she chose not to voice this matter in the presence of the others right now.
"Keep him tightly bound and under strict guard. Elrond will want to deal with him personally."
Hearing this, Igris was utterly baffled that Galadriel would treat him like such a simple, ordinary prisoner.
"Aren't you going to read his memories?!"
At Igris's question, the bystanders looked at each other in surprise; after all, very few people possessed concrete knowledge regarding the true extent of Galadriel's mental capabilities. Kaelith, in particular, realized with a jolt that in his momentary lapse, he had completely forgotten about Galadriel's capacity to read minds. Cold sweat poured down his back as he understood that his previous shock had indirectly handed her vital intelligence. He immediately clamped down on his mind, forcing himself to focus on other, trivial things. Sensing this sudden tension in the air, Galadriel sighed softly and shook her head.
"No, I cannot. An old enemy of mine has placed a spell upon them; when I try to delve into their memories, their heads explode. I have already tested this on their sorcerers."
Hearing of this highly practical yet brutal countermeasure, Igris raised an eyebrow and spoke.
"Morathi?"
Upon hearing that name, Galadriel merely gave a silent nod. Igris, letting out a low whistle at what he heard, looked toward the twins lying on the ground.
"Wow. You guys have yourselves a stalker. My condolences."
The twins' eyebrows twitched in sheer annoyance at their dear friend constantly mocking them at the slightest opportunity. However, they had no intention of taking it lying down this time; they were the ones to open return fire. Plastering a sly smirk onto his face, Elrohir asked.
"How are things going with the Red Lady Katarina?"
The mere mention of that name caused Igris to shudder violently where he sat. His face instantly fell as he answered in an miserable tone.
"That psycho was still chasing me twenty days ago! But she fell into the clutches of a werewolf hunting party; Kaeran and Lyyra were personally in that hunting squad. I don't know if she died... but I am hoping with a burning passion that the old vampire hag kicked the bucket."
He then let out a deep sigh, trying to banish the memories of those troublesome days, and added.
"Ah, whatever. Let's focus on the task at hand."
Igris pushed himself up from where he sat and marched straight over to Kaelith. Gripping the man tightly by the scruff of his neck, he hauled him to his feet and began dragging him along. Kaelith, whose hands were bound tightly behind his back and who bore the exhaustion and minor wounds of the battle, was stunned by this sudden manhandling and thrashed wildly to break free.
"What are you doing?!"
Paying absolutely zero mind to the man's struggles, Igris continued dragging him toward the gap between two massive boulders up ahead. Everyone around watched the duo in bewilderment, trying to make sense of what was happening. Dragging his feet and resisting fiercely, Kaelith kept yelling.
"I AM ASKING YOU, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
As the duo slipped behind those large rocks and vanished from sight, none of the onlookers could see exactly what was transpiring there, but the sounds continued to echo out quite clearly.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"
"STOP SQUIRMING, DUDE!"
SMACK!
THUD!
CRASH!
"JUST CALM DOWN! IT'LL BE OVER SOON!"
"STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM ME!"
Everyone present, including Galadriel, stared at the rocks with strange, questioning, and thoroughly bewildered eyes, trying to make sense of the scuffling sounds echoing from behind them. Merely a few seconds later, Igris emerged from behind the boulder with an immensely satisfied grin plastered on his face; he was dragging Kaelith behind him with a single hand once more. Kaelith, his face flushed crimson with a potent mix of rage, helplessness, and sheer humiliation, was forced to endure the situation. Every single thing on his person had literally been stripped and stolen by Igris: his armor, his weapons, his belt, the minor trinkets and jewels he wore... Igris had taken whatever he could find, leaving the grand Dread Lord with nothing but the simple tunic and thin trousers he wore underneath. While everyone who witnessed this absurd spectacle was dumbfounded, the twins, who were quite accustomed to this behavior, showed absolutely no reaction. Elrohir simply sighed in sheer exhaustion and muttered.
"This man is still a freak..."
Right next to him, Elladan merely groaned, a response that clearly indicated his agreement with the sentiment and his begrudging acceptance of their friend's eccentricities. Galadriel, at a loss for words, simply stared at the unfolding scene; though part of her was pleased to see a certified enemy like a Dread Lord humiliated in such a manner, Igris's casual and brutally practical demeanor took her quite by surprise. After handing the half-naked Kaelith over to the elven guards, Igris strolled forward, looking extraordinarily pleased with himself. His eyes caught sight of the sword and heavy crossbow that Zerinya held in her hands. Noticing Igris's interest, Zerinya held out the looted weapons toward him. Igris first took the sword and inspected it meticulously. The weapon was slightly curved and boasted a single-edged blade with serrated teeth; the upper spine of the sword was forged entirely from a pitch-black metal, while the lower, razor-sharp edge gleamed in a brilliant silver. Although its balance felt slightly heavier than the sword he currently used, it didn't make much of a difference in his grip.
"It's a fine sword... Considering it sliced through my armor like a hot knife through butter, I shouldn't have expected it to be bad. Zerinya, do you want this? I already took the armor, but you're the one who caught him."
Igris offered the sword to its rightful claimant, Zerinya, but the elven woman shook her head, turning down the offer with a cold-blooded expression.
"Not my style."
Respecting the woman's fighting style, Igris nodded understandingly and sent the sword directly into his system inventory. Next, he picked up the heavy crossbow and examined it. This crossbow was crafted from materials of far superior quality than the standard dark elf crossbows he had first found at the ambush site; its mechanism was in pristine condition, and it even featured a specialized scoping lens that made aiming significantly easier. Judging by the craftsmanship, its firing range was undoubtedly double that of the ordinary crossbows. Meanwhile, off in a corner, Kaelith remained dead silent but glared with seething fury at Igris, who was casually inspecting his usurped, highly valuable belongings. If looks could truly kill, Igris would have been torn to a thousand shreds by now. Immensely satisfied with the crossbow's quality, Igris nodded to himself and cast a sidelong glance at the Dread Lord sulking in the corner.
"You better pray these cover the damage to my armor."
Kaelith merely settled for glaring at him with utter disdain, refusing to open his mouth to utter a single word. With Galadriel so close by, he stubbornly forced his thoughts onto mundane, everyday things, desperate to ensure his mind didn't drift to any crucial secrets for even a fraction of a second. He knew perfectly well that if he succumbed to his rage and spoke, his mind might involuntarily slip toward classified operations, allowing Galadriel to notice and plunge him into a highly dire situation. Seeing the prisoner's stubborn silence, Igris shrugged, turned his back, and looked at Neora.
"Is everyone ready?"
Neora nodded in confirmation and gestured with her hand toward the neatly arranged pile of loot and weapons on the other side of the boulder.
"Yes, the weapons and equipment have been gathered."
Igris redirected his steps and stared in awe at the mound of various dark elven gear stacked high upon each other. For a brief moment, he wanted to pause, count every single item, and appraise their quality, but realizing they were pressed for time, he finally abandoned the idea. He reached out his hand and swept the entire hoard into his inventory with a single motion. After all, with two wounded elves paralyzed by poison, a starving Witcher with a rumbling stomach, and a figure as momentous as Lady Galadriel waiting on him, delaying them to take inventory of his loot would be incredibly inappropriate.
'It would be better if I ask the dwarves for help; they can appraise the value of all this.'
After filing this highly practical solution away in the back of his mind, he turned and faced Galadriel, who had been watching him with tranquil eyes.
"My Lady, we may depart whenever you wish."
Even though Igris was generally an incredibly relaxed and flippant man, he knew better than to be disrespectful when an elder of Galadriel's stature was present. Considering she was one of the most revered elves living in Arda, Igris did not want to dictate a course of action without seeking her approval and insight. Noticing this subtle and respectful gesture, Galadriel nodded slightly, showing her quiet appreciation.
"Let us depart."
Having received her confirmation, Igris nodded, then turned to the others and raised his voice slightly.
"You heard her, we are heading back to Rivendell, but let's get to the horses first."
He then looked down at the twins, who were lying on the ground waiting to be carried, and spoke.
"Lomir and Kormor are still alive. We found them in time, but because of the paralyzing poison, they're in the exact same state as you."
Hearing that their horses were alive, the twins breathed a deep sigh of relief. Elrohir spoke calmly from where he lay propped up.
"Thank you, Igris. We are in your debt."
Igris, not one to overstate his good deeds as usual, simply shrugged.
"It's no big deal, friends help each other out... but I've got a feeling I'm going to get a hefty reward from the White Council!"
Just as he finished his sentence, he cast a sideways glance at Galadriel without breaking his deadpan expression and continued.
"After all, we hunted down dark elves and even captured a live Dread Lord on top of that. Considering you've placed bounties on the dark elves, I should be getting a reward, right?"
Hearing this blatant attempt at haggling, Galadriel was briefly taken aback. All the rumors, incoming reports, and tales she had heard about Igris thus far painted him as a character who cared little for coin, driven purely by the thrill of adventure. After studying the man's face for a fleeting moment and pondering, she sensed that Igris was in urgent need of money for a valid reason and nodded serenely.
"Yes. We shall discuss your reward with Mithrandir and Elrond in Rivendell."
While Igris drew a deep, relaxed breath upon receiving this confirmation, the twins stared at him with incredibly peculiar expressions, even paralyzed as they were on the ground. Finally, Elrohir yielded to his curiosity and asked.
"Why do you need money? What happened to your savings?"
A profound sorrow washed over Igris's face for a brief second upon hearing the question. His eyes glazing over slightly, he spoke in a subdued tone.
"I had a suit of armor forged. The design was much harder than I anticipated, and because we constantly went through trial and error, the costs skyrocketed... but..."
Before he could finish his sentence, he pulled the shattered, custom-made armor, completely riddled with deep sword gashes , from his inventory and held it up for them to see.
"It turned into scrap metal before I could even wear it for two years."
Seeing this, the twins recalled the sentence Igris had just directed at the Dread Lord; realizing his armor had sustained this devastating damage during this very battle, they felt a pang of guilt. Igris stowed the armor back away and continued.
"Plus, I am in the middle of a rather special situation, but that's a long story I'll tell you later. Now, let's head back."
Once preparations were complete, the Crimson Archers shouldered the stretchers bearing the prisoner and the wounded, and the rest of the group fell in step beside them. Galadriel mounted her pure white unicorn, riding serenely alongside the procession. Following a short trek across the rocky, uneven terrain, they arrived at the sheltered sanctuary encircled by boulders where the horses had been left to safety. A few Crimson Archer elves were standing guard there, securing the perimeter; upon spotting Shadowmane in the area prior to the clash, Zerinya had left a few of her men behind to protect the steeds. Being carried in, the twins breathed a sigh of relief when they saw their own horses safe and sound. Igris strode over to his troublesome equine companion and spoke.
"Any trouble?"
Shadowmane looked his partner up and down with immense disdain upon hearing the question. The black stallion had once again draped himself in his typical haughty demeanor. Reacting in his own tongue, he practically snorted.
"What kind of trouble could possibly arise while I am here?"
Hearing his horse's unchanging arrogance, Igris merely rolled his eyes in sheer exasperation. At that moment, Ciri walked up from behind and reached Igris's side. Removing the black, custom-forged gauntlet she had been wearing, she held it out to Igris and spoke.
"You forgot this."
Igris took the gauntlet, instantly stashing it into his inventory out of habit, and nodded.
"Thank you."
After taking the gauntlet, his eyes locked onto the dark elf crossbow Ciri was clutching in her hands, one she had retrieved from the spoils. Noticing Igris staring at the crossbow, Ciri scratched her chin with her free hand, suddenly feeling bashful, before broaching the subject.
"Igris... I know this crossbow rightfully belongs to you, but I was wondering if I could keep it? I will pay you for it."
Igris was genuinely surprised by this request and gazed into Ciri's eyes with profound curiosity.
"Don't you usually prefer using a sword? Besides, you already have your small crossbow."
Ciri paused for a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking in an incredibly logical and composed manner.
"Yes, but today I realized the immense utility of wielding a heavier crossbow... my small crossbow lacks the stopping power against certain enemies, and its range is quite poor."
Hearing the woman's battle-hardened reasoning and pragmatic approach, Igris stood in silent thought for a moment. He then slowly extended his hand, making a gesture indicating he wanted the crossbow in Ciri's grasp back. Seeing this, Ciri met Igris's unwavering gaze. Swallowing a tiny knot of disappointment within her, she sighed and surrendered the crossbow to Igris without protest. Having handed the weapon over, she unhappily turned her back and was just taking a step toward her own horse, Snowball, when Igris suddenly reached out from behind, grabbed her hand, and spoke.
"Wait."
Her hand suddenly caught, Ciri spun around with a reflex born of surprise, was staring at him in astonishment. Just then, Igris retrieved the custom-made, vastly superior crossbow complete with the scoping lens and held it out to the woman.
"You misunderstood. The crossbow I took back from you is used by tier-two soldiers; it was just a standard military issue. But this one is magnitudes better. This suits you much more."
Ciri was completely dumbfounded by what she heard; she hadn't expected such a gesture or response from him. After standing there dazed for a few seconds, she quickly collected herself and protested calmly.
"There is no need for this. You need money, don't you? You could sell that weapon for a hefty sum and make a profit. Just giving me the other one would have been more than enough."
Hearing this, Igris flashed his signature, easygoing grin and replied.
"There are countless ways to earn coin, but gaining a reliable ranged companion wielding a top-tier weapon? That is far more practical than money. So, please, take this crossbow. Like I said, it suits you much better."
Convinced by Igris's logic, grounded in raw combat experience, Ciri fell completely silent and stared into the man's resolute, generous eyes. Realizing it was pointless to argue, she let out a deep sigh, nodded in acceptance, and finally spoke.
"Alright... thank you. But..."
Before she could even finish her sentence, her eyes slowly drifted downward, landing on Igris's hand, which was still firmly gripping her own.
"How much longer do you plan on holding my hand?"
Only realizing the situation at that precise second, Igris gave a slight jolt and swiftly released Ciri's hand. To mask his embarrassment, he casually scratched his head and chuckled nervously.
"My apologies..."
Gently rubbing her newly freed hand, Ciri nodded with an understanding smile.
"It's quite alright."
During the brief, awkward silence that settled between them, Shadowmane watched the duo from the sidelines with immense delight. With his equine mind, he plotted deviously to himself.
'So, my dear partner actually fancies this woman... how intriguing. He rarely initiates much contact with women. He usually sticks to brief pleasantries... it seems I can finally put my master plan into motion!'
Following these cunning thoughts, he cast a sly, sidelong glance toward the white mare, Snowball—Ciri's mount, whom he was actually hopelessly in love with.
'I SHALL MAKE HER MY WIFE! IF IT MEANS SACRIFICING MY PARTNER IGRIS ALONG THE WAY, THEN SO BE IT! MWAHAHAHA!'
Though a few members of the group briefly glanced toward Igris and Ciri, they didn't pay the situation much mind. The vast majority were busy constructing sturdy stretchers to transport the wounded horses and elves. Some of the men Zerinya had initially left to guard the mounts had already started on this task, and now, with the returnees from the ambush site joining them, their numbers had swelled, allowing them to work much faster and with better coordination. With everyone pitching in, Elrohir looked at Zerinya beside him and spoke.
"Did your men see any living Great Orcs at the ambush site?"
Hearing this question, Zerinya recalled those initial moments in the forest and nodded affirmatively.
"When we first arrived, there were eight Great Orcs sitting around a campfire, but they had vanished while we were fighting the dark elves."
Receiving this confirmation, Elrohir nodded thoughtfully. Guşga was still on his mind; it was the first time he had ever faced an orc who fought so solidly and employed such tactical prowess, and it had pushed him to his limits.
Simultaneously, on the other side of the clearing, Igris fully presented the crossbow to Ciri. Ciri took the heavy weapon with eager curiosity, and after a brief inspection, she realized that Igris had been absolutely right. There was a literal canyon of difference between this masterwork and the standard one in terms of design, weight distribution, and material quality. Furthermore, the aiming lens mounted on the upper frame had piqued her curiosity; it was her first time seeing an adjustable optical device fixed onto a weapon like this, as she had not yet traveled to a world that possessed firearms. Giving in to her curiosity, she shouldered the crossbow, took aim, and peered directly through the lens. Noticing that the image was magnified, she instantly grasped its function.
"So there is a device like this specifically to aid in aiming."
Watching her, Igris nodded in approval. He then reached into his inventory once more, retrieving the Dread Lord's custom-designed crossbow bolts, and offered them to Ciri. Seeing this, Ciri broke off her aiming practice and carefully took the quiver brimming with bolts. Igris continued his explanation.
"When we return to Rivendell, I'll try to have proper bolts designed for it. No standard arrow can withstand the force of that crossbow."
Deeply grateful for the man's thoughtful foresight, Ciri nodded.
"Thank you. But I insist on paying for this."
Shrugging with his usual laid-back demeanor, Igris spoke in a remarkably tranquil tone.
"No need. Consider it a thank-you gift for your invaluable help today."
Hearing this, Ciri hesitated for a moment out of sheer personal principle, but seeing the uncompromising, resolute look in Igris's eyes, she didn't push her objection any further and simply nodded.
"Alright... thank you."
With a small, genuine smile, Igris nodded back.
"Don't mention it."
He then slipped his hand into his inventory void one last time, pulled out a small bundle meticulously wrapped in a clean cloth, and held it out to Ciri. Taken aback for a second, Ciri stared at the mysterious package being offered and asked.
"What is this?"
Cupping the warm bundle with both hands, Igris extended it a bit closer to her and spoke.
"Warm bread with butter and cheese. It tastes quite good, it's one of the meals I prepared this morning. I saved a few for emergencies. Here, fill your stomach."
Igris was undoubtedly one of the most functional and practical users of this systematic inventory. He didn't just utilize it to gain tactical advantages through instantaneous equipment swaps mid-combat. He exploited the physical dimension within the inventory—where time stood entirely still—for his everyday life as well. By storing freshly cooked meals directly inside it, he always had hot, ready-to-eat takeout available at his fingertips whenever he wanted. For instance, he had actually baked the bread he was handing to Ciri hours ago, at the first light of dawn, with his own two hands; yet, thanks to the magic of the inventory, the loaf was as piping hot and fresh as if it had just been pulled from the oven. At the absolute peak of her hunger, Ciri blinked in great surprise at this thoughtful gesture. Following a brief moment of hesitation, She took the package and nodded gratefully.
"Thank you."
Seeing the woman's reaction, Igris responded with a warm smile.
"It's nothing."