At Haniel’s words, Regan nodded and pointed to the axe she was holding.

“It would be good to prepare throwing weapons as well. It seems you have talent for throwing things.”

“R-really?”

Haniel couldn’t help but smile sheepishly at the pure compliment without any trace of forced flattery.

Oh, come to think of it… she seemed to have heard that humans have a superior ability to throw things compared to other animals.

For instance, the ability to throw stones at people they don’t like. Or the ability to throw trash into a distant trash can while lying down, not wanting to get out of bed.

Having heard Regan’s advice, Haniel added ‘crossbow improvement’ and ‘making throwing weapons’ to her mental to-do list.

‘This wolf is right. First, since the crossbow is weaker than I thought, it would be good to improve it so it can kill with a single shot. It was also inconvenient to load each shot one by one.’

Though she was able to fire several shots while Regan distracted the others, if Haniel had been alone, it wouldn’t have been possible.

Load and shoot, load and shoot again. When would she have such leisure in front of enemies with fast movement speeds?

Haniel racked her brain. For the next time, it might be good to improve it further, perhaps making a quiver containing multiple arrows that could be inserted like loading a magazine into a gun.

So that once loaded, multiple shots could be fired.

‘I think there was something like that among the old weapons I saw on Earth. A combination of a gun and a crossbow.’

And throwing weapons. Although the axe shape was most familiar to her now, since she had been using it continuously for two years, later it might be good to try making shuriken or small daggers.

To Haniel, who seemed to be thinking about the distant future, Regan said:

“It would be better to discuss this once we can get out of this Rift.”

Ah, right.

Before leaving, Haniel took out her gathering tools again to acquire the rightful spoils from her hunt.

Snip, snap!

Whether Hume, Elf, or Wanderer – gathering and tanning at a speed that made one doubt their eyes!

The marvelous technique of neatly collecting even bodily fl*ids could rightfully be called a human machine, or rather a factory itself.

Haniel’s survival skills, honed from living alone in this Nightmare Forest for years, were once again tangible, making even Regan express admiration.

Even the artisans of Soleil didn’t have such techniques.

“Clean work. Impressive.”

At his praise, Haniel grinned broadly as she tucked her pocket knife back into her waist.

“Weeeell… hehe. Actually, I was searching more thoroughly in case something related to the Rift’s core might be buried, but there wasn’t anything.”

The location of the Rift’s core was likely at the end of that path that still glimmered golden at the edge of their vision, but Haniel searched carefully among the broken flesh pieces in case she might discover related items.

However, all that was found was…

“A worn-out shoe found inside the stomach, and some kind of empty scabbard.”

“Huh… it looked like it had a small mouth, but apparently it could open wide enough to swallow some fool in one bite.”

“Poor thing.”

The shoe and scabbard, covered in greenish fl*id, were half-dissolved by the Wanderer’s gastric acid and difficult to identify.

Judging by its size and shape, the shoe was likely a Hume’s, but this scabbard…

After examining the whitish scabbard for a while, Regan furrowed his brow.

“It’s too damaged to identify.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

Indeed, seeing that it hadn’t completely dissolved in the Wanderer’s harsh gastric acid suggested it had some special treatment, but “not completely dissolved” just meant the scabbard was damaged to the point where the inner lining was exposed.

Even those with keen eyes like Regan would find it difficult to judge…

But Haniel had a tool more accurate than even those with the keenest eyes.

The status window!

When Haniel decided to examine the scabbard more closely, the status window automatically appeared and displayed text.

Ding!

‘Huh? Elf?’

Didn’t Regan say something like that when he first encountered the Wanderer? That he thought it was an Elf…

With her face slightly flushed, Haniel glanced at Regan.

“Hey Regan, earlier you called those creatures Elves.”

“Yes.”

“Do Elves really exist in this world? Are they real? Do they look similar to those creatures?”

Elf.

The language of this world would certainly be different from her previous world, yet what she heard was the familiar name of such a race.

Elves, fairies… On Earth, they were generally described as having pointed ears, being friendly with forests… and commonly portrayed as beautiful.

Perhaps they might look similar to those handsome characters on the front of the game pack she had bought.

‘Elves. That’s truly a romance fantasy race, isn’t it?’

Had she forgotten that far from romance fantasy, she had nearly been mounted by a bear until just recently, and that she herself had fallen into a smelly Rift cave?

Haniel, who had forgotten like a goldfish that the game pack with the handsome Elf-like character drawn on it was the start of all this trouble, still hadn’t come to her senses and was blushing.

Though he couldn’t guess what Haniel was thinking, Regan, who didn’t like her paying attention to others, narrowed his eyes thinly and answered.

“No. Those things and Elves are different. But… they resemble each other in many aspects, so at first I mistakenly thought they might be ‘mixed’ with those peculiar beings.”

“If they’re similar… in what way?”

Regan gave her a clouded smile.

Would she be disappointed if he told her that what particularly reminded him of Elves was not the monster’s strangely pretty face, but the way it drooled looking at Haniel?

As Haniel expected, Elves were renowned for their beautiful appearance. Though the species on this continent each have different aesthetic standards, by many standards, Elves’ appearances are generally considered beautiful.

Willowy, slender bodies like weeping willows. Delicate and exquisite faces like flower petals.

The males often grow two horns above their ears, which resemble either insect horns or elegant deer antlers.

But more renowned than all those praises was their tyrannical nature.

Behind the infinitely noble gestures and gentle, beautiful appearances was a cruel duality of “hunting” and taking away anything precious.

The Elf kingdom of Anaserph, where everything revolves around the king, just as bees in a hive live centered around their queen.

There exists a search party that follows whatever orders the magic-wielding king gives and unfailingly hunts and drags back whatever he desires. Regan, living in Soleil, was already sickeningly familiar with their notoriety.

‘Those annoying insects would send their spies to stir up the capital whenever they got the chance, even when I was in Soleil.’

But even Regan, who had the skill to make someone feel like sharing their secrets willingly, never managed to find out why the Elves were snooping around his homeland Soleil or what they were looking for.

Unfortunately, Anaserph’s “spies” were excellent at provoking animal instincts, and since Humes considered necklaces made from Elf horns they had subjugated to be plausible warrior ornaments, there was never really an opportunity to interrogate living Elves.

However, Regan knew well the tenacity and swarm-like unity of those he had faced on the battlefield many times.

What would have happened if those annoying fellows had discovered Haniel?

The Elves would certainly try to take Haniel away.

Reflecting on Haniel’s “characteristic” that he had just noticed earlier, Regan was certain.

‘In that respect, it’s truly fortunate that those hybrids aren’t Elves.’

Regan breathed a sigh of relief, not knowing that the scabbard that had seemed to have no problems was actually an Elf’s possession.

Then he answered Haniel’s question about which parts resembled Elves.

“Well. They particularly resemble Elves in how they don’t distinguish where they should and shouldn’t intrude, and how they covet what belongs to others.”

“R-really?”

They must be a different race from the Elves I know.

Though she couldn’t shake the feeling that Regan was being quite evasive, Haniel accepted it roughly.

She put the scabbard into her inventory in case it might be useful later, and they hurriedly moved beyond the cave again.