Chapter 143: Strength And Skill

The elves quieted immediately, their attention snapping back to him.

Luca reached toward the portal again—

And pulled out another bow.

But this one…

This one wasn’t made of wood at all.

It gleamed in the sunlight, its surface smooth and shining. The metal caught the light beautifully, making it look like some kind of divine artifact—a heavenly weapon blessed by the gods themselves.

The elves gasped in awe.

“Is that…metal?”

“It’s so beautiful…”

“It looks like a treasure!”

But Leona’s eyes were drawn to something else entirely.

The shape.

The shaft of the bow was curved—not just along its length, but on both limbs, bending outward in a way she’d never seen before.

Lulu, never one to hold her tongue, stepped forward with a frown.

“Luca, is that really made of metal? If it is, there’s no way we’re holding that. We’re elves, not dwarves—we can’t carry something that heavy everywhere we go.”

Several others murmured agreement.

“It would exhaust us.”

“We’d die carrying that.”

Luca just grinned.

“Who said it’s heavy?”

He held the bow out toward Leona.

“Check it yourself. See if it’s heavy or not.”

Leona hesitated, then passed her longbow carefully to one arm and reached for the metal bow with the other.

She expected it to drop. Expected her arm to sag under impossible weight.

Instead—

Her fingers closed around the grip, and the bow lifted as easily as a feather.

Her eyes went wide.

“It’s…It’s light.” She said, turning it over in her hands. “It’s lighter than the longbow. Lighter than any bow I’ve ever held.”

The crowd erupted in confused murmurs.

“How is that possible?”

“Metal that’s LIGHTER than wood?”

“Maybe she’s just super strong?”

Luca grinned, clearly enjoying their reactions.

“This is what’s called a recurve bow.” He traced the curved ends with his finger. “The materials aren’t ordinary metal—it’s a special alloy from my world, designed to be strong but incredibly light.”

Luna raised her hand and asked,

“Why is it curved on the sides like that? What does it do?”

Luca’s eyes lit up.

“Excellent question.” He pointed to the limbs. “When you draw a recurve bow, those forward curving ends actually straighten out. That means when you release, they’re not just pushing the arrow.”

“They’re snapping back into place with extra force. It’s like…”

He thought for a moment.

“Like cracking a whip, but controlled. More power, more speed, without making the bow longer or heavier.”

The elves looked at the bow with wonder.

Luca turned back to Leona.

“Now. See that target over there? The one with the red marker?”

Leona followed his gaze—and her breath caught.

It was even farther than the last one. Much farther. Almost impossibly far.

“I don’t…” She hesitated. “I don’t know if the arrow will even travel that far. I doubt it’s possible.”

Luca shook his head gently.

“Just trust me. Aim and shoot, you’ll see the results for yourself.”

He showed her how to position her fingers on the string, how to adjust her stance for the different draw weight, how to sight along the unfamiliar curve.

Leona nocked an arrow.

She drew back—and immediately felt the difference.

The recurve bow was harder to pull. The tension built differently, demanded more strength.

“I know it’s tough.” Luca said quietly. “But push through. You’ll feel the reward.”

Leona gritted her teeth. Her muscles burned. But she pulled—pulled until the string was at her cheek, until the bow sang with stored power.

She aimed.

And released.

Phoosh!

The arrow screamed through the air.

Faster than anything they’d ever seen—a blur, a whisper of motion. It didn’t waver, didn’t drop, didn’t falter.

It flew straight and true across the impossible distance.

And struck the red marker dead center.

“SHE…SHE DID IT AGAIN!”

“HOW?!”

“THAT DISTANCE—IT’S NOT POSSIBLE!”

“THE ARROW FLEW LIKE LIGHTNING!”

Cheers, shouts, gasps of amazement filled the clearing.

Leona stood frozen, arms still raised, staring at the impossibly distant point where her arrow now rested.

She’d done it.

She’d actually done it.

Her heart pounded. Her breath came fast. And for the first time in longer than she could remember, Leona felt something she’d thought long dead:

Excitement.

Pure, childlike, joyful excitement.

She turned to Luca—eyes bright, face flushed, a genuine smile breaking through her usual composure and found him watching her with that warm, knowing look.

Luca nodded his head before speaking again.

“By now…” He said calmly, sweeping his gaze across the clearing. “…you should understand how important having a proper bow is.”

He lifted one of their primitive wooden bows and held it up for everyone to see.

“Let’s forget about modern bows from my world for a second.”

“Even this…this simple wooden bow you all use. If it’s crafted properly, if the limbs are aligned, if the string tension is balanced, if the wood is treated correctly and free of irregularities, then just from that alone—”

He raised five fingers.

“—you can increase your shooting prowess by fifty percent.”

The clearing went silent.

“Fifty percent?”

“Just from fixing the bow?”

“That much?”

“Yes.” Luca said firmly. “Fifty percent from equipment alone. That is basically an instant power-up compared to where you are now.”

Excitement rippled through the female elves. Some gripped their bows tighter, as if suddenly seeing them differently.

“So we’ve been handicapping ourselves this whole time…”

“That makes sense…”

“We really have been holding ourselves back…”

Luca nodded once more.

“But now.” He continued. “You might be wondering about the remaining fifty percent. What about that?”

He looked around at their curious faces.

“You’re probably thinking—’Is it training? Practice? Shooting until our hands bleed? Endless repetition? Improving technique?’”

He paused.

“But before I answer that, I have to ask you something.”

He looked at the quietly before asking,

“That question is: do you think you’re worse than the male elves when it comes to archery?”

A ripple of discomfort passed through the crowd.

“You should have seen it yourself.” Luca said, his tone matter-of-fact. “Just a moment ago, you watched all those male elves shoot their arrows.”

“And even though not a single one of them hit the target—they all missed, scattered their shots into trees, birds, the ground, everywhere—they were still better than you.”

The elves wanted to protest. They wanted to argue, to deny it, to tell him he was wrong.

But the truth was there, ugly and undeniable.

They were worse.

The realization settled over them like a heavy blanket, awkward and uncomfortable.

Some looked down at their feet. Others stared at the ground. A few crossed their arms defensively, jaws tight.

Luca watched their reactions—and chuckled.

“Alright, alright. Don’t sulk.”

He waved his hand dismissively, his tone warm and teasing.

“Look, I’m not looking down on you. I’m not saying you’re lesser than males. I’m just stating a fact based on what I observed.”

He paused, letting them absorb that before saying,

“But let me tell you something important.”

He stepped forward, drawing their attention.

“The reason you’re not good at this isn’t because you’re less skilled than them.”

“It’s not because you have less knowledge about archery.”

“It’s not because you don’t know how to shoot an arrow.”

He shook his head firmly before saying with finality,

“It has nothing to do with skill at all.”

Confusion rippled through the crowd.

“Then what is it?” Someone called out.

Luca met her eyes and said,

“It has to do with strength.”

The word landed strangely. Several elves tilted their heads, frowning.

“Strength?” Lulu repeated. “What do you mean, strength?”

Luca gestured broadly at the village around them.

“Think about it. Now that mana has gone away, you have to use your own body for everything—carrying buckets of water, moving things around, all of it.”

“And archery is no different.”

He mimed drawing a bow.

“When you shoot an arrow, you have to actually pull the string back. And that takes strength, real, physical strength. That’s why males have an advantage in this specific area.”

He held up a hand to forestall protests.

“Now, I’m not saying males are better overall. You females are lighter, more nimble, faster. That’s your advantage.”

“But males, because of natural physique, tend to have more raw muscle.”

He looked at them seriously.

“And because of that muscle, pulling a bow isn’t as hard for them. They can at least draw it far enough to shoot, even if they can’t aim worth a damn.”

He gestured at the females.

“But you all? You don’t have as much strength. And because of that, you’re literally struggling just to hold the bow steady.”

The words hit home.

Realization dawned on face after face as the elves processed what he was saying. They looked at each other, murmuring.

“He’s right…”

“That makes so much sense…”

“I always wondered why I could only pull it halfway…”

“And the males could hold it so much longer…”

But then Luna slowly raised her hand, as she realised something that worried her quite a lot.

“Luca.”

He turned to her.

“If strength is the reason…” She said carefully. “…does that mean we will always be worse than the male elves?”

Several elves turned to look at her, confused by the question.

Luna pressed on, her voice gaining strength as she articulated her concern.

“What I mean is…we female elves have never been strong. From the very beginning, our bodies were built to be light, so we could move through the trees quickly. That’s our nature. Our advantage.”

She gestured at herself, at the other females.

“So now you’re saying we need strength to pull arrows properly? How are we supposed to do that?”

“It’s not like we’re ogres, we can’t just bulk up overnight. And even if we tried muscle training…”

She trailed off, doubt coloring her voice.

“I doubt we could gain that kind of strength with our bodies constitution. Not really. Not enough to match them.”

Her eyes met Luca’s, vulnerable and concerned.

“So does that mean we’ll never improve? That we’ll never reach our true potential? That forever we’ll be worse than the males?”

The question hung in the air like a death knell.

Panic rippled through the crowd as the implications sank in.

“She’s right!”

“Oh no! I-Is that true, Hero?”

“Are we doomed to always be lesser?”

“I don’t want to be worse than those arrogant males forever!”

“We’ll never catch up?”

“Please tell me it’s not true!”

Some elves clutched their bows tighter, as if afraid they’d never truly be able to use them.

Others looked near tears at the thought of permanent inferiority.

Luca watched them spiral for a moment.

Then he chuckled.

“Don’t worry.” He said lightly. “Don’t worry at all.”

The panic stuttered to a halt.

“I understand why you have that worry. I understand why you think it might be hopeless. But…”

Luca grinned.

“…I’ve got a solution for that too.”

The elves blinked at him.

“A solution?” Luna asked cautiously.

“Absolutely.” Luca nodded. “And no, it’s not about building up your muscles through intense training until you all look like gorillas.”

A few elves shuddered at the mental image.

“Definitely not that.” Lulu muttered. “I don’t want muscles. I like my plump and soft body very much thank you.”

“Instead.” Luca continued. “The solution comes in the form of a bow.”

Luna’s brow furrowed.

“A bow? A bow is going to fix this?”

Luca’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Not just any bow. A specific type of bow. One that does all the heavy lifting for you.”

He held up a finger.

“Imagine a bow that takes care of the strength requirement entirely. A bow that, when you pull it back, does most of the work itself.”

“So all you have to do is aim and release, and the bow handles the rest.”

The elves stared at him, trying to process this.

“A bow that pulls itself?”

“How is that even possible?”

“Does such a thing exist?”

“Show us, Luca!” Lulu bounced on her feet. “Show us this magical bow!”

Luca just smiled.

He raised his hand.

A portal shimmered into existence beside him—smaller than before, but glowing with that same otherworldly light. The elves pressed forward eagerly, craning their necks, holding their breath.

Luca reached inside.

And the elves waited—curious, excited, desperate to see this legendary bow that could supposedly solve all their problems with strength.

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