His foot dangled, scrambling to find sothing that didn't exist.
Panic surged through Luka, and he instinctively clenched harder with his hands.
He looked down—despite his earlier resolve not to—and felt his stomach churn.
A section of the ladder was missing.
One step, just one, but it might as well have been a mile.
The gap stretched below him.
No convenient foothold to bridge the space.
The rope ladder resud beneath it, like the missing piece had simply vanished from existence.
'Fuck …' Luka thought.
His eyes traced the distance, judging the gap.
It wasn't impossible…but it wasn't exactly safe either.
He braced himself, sucking in a deep breath, feeling the cool air burn his lungs.
His hands shifted, grip tightening as he prepared to drop.
'No guts, no glory…'
There was no clear solution—
Just a leap of faith.
Luka let go.
For a fraction of a second, he was weightless—
His body suspended, the wind whistling past his ears.
Ti seed to stretch, elongating that brief mont of free fall.
His hands shot out instinctively, reaching for the rope ladder.
His fingers brushed against it—
Missed.
'Shit!' Luka bit down harder on the hamr.
Panic flared, his mind screaming for him to grab onto anything.
His hands shot out blindly—
His palms slapped against the sides of the rope ladder.
Pain erupted across his skin as his hands scraped against the rope.
Luka fought back a scream as his montum dragged him downward.
He tried to slow himself, but the friction only intensified the burn.
His palms seared, feeling like he was dragging them across sandpaper dipped in fire.
The wind howled around him; the rope ladder swaying under his weight.
Luka's eyes watered from the sting, his jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might crack.
He slid for what felt like ages…
Finally—rcifully—his speed began to slow, the rope ladder creaking as he clutched them tighter.
His descent ca to a halt, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
He lifted one of his hands in front of his face, wincing at the sight.
Red lines streaked across his palms, raw and tender.
He flexed his fingers experintally, grimacing as the skin protested with sharp, stinging pain.
'Fucking burn… Ouch,' Luka thought to himself, shaking his hand as if it would help.
He then took a mont to let his heart rate co back down from its mad sprint.
He placed his boot on the next spot, testing it for stability.
It held firm.
'The Elf King better give the best damn reward ever. And I better get good karma for this!'
With a final exhale, Luka continued downward, each step more cautious than the last.
His hands still throbbed, but the pain was manageable.
He wasn't about to turn back now—
Not when the promise of reward lay at the bottom.
Finally, Luka's boots touched solid ground.
Grass—real, soft grass.
He exhaled a long, shuddering breath and, with an almost codic display of relief, spat out the hamr he'd been holding in his mouth.
His knees hit the dirt with a soft thud.
"Holy shit, did I miss you…" Luka murmured, dropping his head and pressing his lips to the earth repeatedly.
"I swear, I'll never take you for granted again…"
He wasn't even sure who he was talking to—himself, the ground, or whatever god watched over idiotic humans who threw themselves down rope ladders.
After his brief but heartfelt reunion with the ground—
Luka forced himself to his feet, brushing off his knees and scooping up the hamr.
His hands still stung, the raw patches throbbing as he gripped the tal handle.
He winced but held on.
"Can't waste too much ti," he muttered.
His gaze swept across the dense, shadowy underbrush ahead.
He began moving, feet light against the forest floor.
Luka knew exactly where to go.
Signs marked the way—small, inconspicuous arrows carved into the bark of trees, just faint enough to be overlooked by anyone who didn't know what to look for.
Luka did.
The traffickers had placed them there—too confident, too brazen.
Why bother hiding them?
No elf would ever dare set foot on the surface of the forest.
Not with the monsters that prowled.
Luka's eyes scanned his surroundings as he moved, his senses sharp.
He knew the region well—this was a low-level monster area, the kind of monsters that would be more of an annoyance than a threat.
He wasn't worried.
The forest was quiet, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or distant chirp of insects.
Luka pressed forward.
Suddenly…
Flickers of orange danced across the bark.
"…" Luka crouched low, as he crept forward, his movents slow.
Bushes scratched against his arms as he pushed through, the scent of smoke growing stronger.
Finally, he reached the edge of a thicket, parting the branches just enough to peer through.
His eyes narrowed as he observed the scene: a small group of humans—three of them—clustered around a caged wagon.
The n spoke in hushed tones, occasionally throwing glances back at the cage, as if ensuring she hadn't vanished.
Inside the wagon, hunched and unmoving, was a little elf girl.
A rough, heavy hood covered her entire head.
Her hands were bound tightly with rope.
A thick leather strap had been cinched around her mouth, muffling any attempt to cry out.
"Bastards…" Luka muttered under his breath.
He wasn't exactly a hero, but even he found this kind of operation revolting.
'Selling a child to demons… That's beyond fucked.'
Luka glanced around, taking in his options.
The traffickers seed relaxed—too relaxed.
One leaned against a tree, puffing on a pipe, while the other two laughed over so private joke.
Their weapons were carelessly slung across their backs, swords and daggers of varying quality.
Luka looked back at the little elf girl.
He reached down, adjusting his grip on the hamr.
"Ti to make a little noise…" he whispered, a grin spreading across his face.
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