Fairies are trained from a young age to restrain their emotions. Because of this, it was difficult to find any signs of fervor among them.
Encrid recalled when he became a Knight—when Sinar lost an arm, her expression had remained calm.
‘It was too much to be called composure just because of age.’
It was the Fairies’ characteristic restraint.
There was one phrase she said then that Encrid could never forget.
"Go on ahead."
Or something like that.
These Fairies were similar.
Instead of proving themselves through passion, they proved themselves through actions.
What did it mean for Fairy Knights to enter a place where others had died?
‘Is this a collective suicide?’
It was a term that didn’t suit Fairies.
They were supposed to approach problems rationally and logically whenever possible.
But circumstances had pushed them to the edge.
They were going in to fight, knowing they would die.
And not just a few, the entire tribe.
‘They must have been cornered that badly.’
That’s how Encrid saw it.
Even if he hadn’t come, these Fairies would have entered the cave.
This was their beginning, and they were prepared to fight until all of them died.
Sinar had chosen to become the demon’s bride to prevent that.
It was a tragedy brought by the Demon Realm, and their tragedy was still ongoing.
This fight was in memory of those they had already lost. And it was like holding a requiem for those they were about to lose.
They were walking in knowing they would die. But if they died without anyone to sing their requiem, would their resolve have meaning?
Probably not.
It’s hard for the weak to make their claims a reality.
Just as action-oriented speakers are rare, it’s uncommon for the weak to even raise their voices.
And even when they do, changing reality is a long and difficult struggle. This was still an era defined by swords, blood, iron, and battlefields.
Memories from the past whispered like vengeful spirits.
"You’re going to protect us?"
It was the voice of a widow who had lost her husband,a face Encrid no longer remembered.
Encrid carried many old wounds inside. They weren’t scars.
They were still bleeding and hadn’t healed enough to be called scars.
"So what did you manage to protect?"
The spirit whispered again.
Did speaking out change anything for the powerless? No, it didn’t.
Without talent, he couldn’t rely on strength.
Because of that, there were many things he had failed to protect. And many things he had let slip away.
That’s why regret and remorse lingered. But even so, he had no intention of backing down.
Just because he was bleeding didn’t mean he couldn’t walk.
And even if he couldn’t walk, he would crawl forward. He would become a Knight. He would protect those standing behind him. That was why he wanted to become a Knight.
Seeing these Fairies reminded him of his past.
"Not bad."
Encrid muttered.
He wasn’t about to water the tree of peace by sacrificing Sinar.
That was how the Fairies might have put it.
Yet, seeing that no one joked like that, it seemed such humor was unique to Sinar.
Or perhaps it simply wasn’t the time for jokes.
"If you plan to go in with us, we’re grateful."
A tree giant named Bran approached, kicking up dust as his root-like feet scraped the ground.
He still had a cigarette in his mouth.
"Doesn’t the smell bother you?"
He asked in a friendly tone—surprisingly friendly for a Woodguard who rarely showed emotions.
"I can bear it. Were you planning to go in today?"
Encrid asked as he checked his sword belt and other gear.
Whether soldier or Knight, maintaining one’s equipment was basic discipline.
"No, not exactly. But we would have gone in within the month."
Bran replied.
"Then why now?"
"A sign, maybe. Seeing you here might be the Gods’ way of telling us it’s time."
It seemed they took Encrid’s arrival as a signal.
And it wasn’t just the Fairies who saw it that way.
Shortly after Ermen declared the demon’s reprieve was over and Bran exchanged words with Encrid, a sour stench came from the cave.
A low growl followed.
From the dark cave emerged a creature even darker than the shadows.
It kept its body inside but let its head poke out, making its brown mane look like it was floating.
"Prepare for battle."
Ermen commanded as Bran and several Woodguards moved to the front.
The Woodguards seemed to act as shields with their massive, sturdy bodies—at least from a human perspective.
The floating head didn’t remain alone for long.
A beast-like monster crawled out, walking on four legs.
It had the head of a lion and a snake’s head for a tail.
Its tail slashed the air and struck the ground.
Sssk! Crack!
Dust rose as the tail hit the ground.
It was a manticore—and not an ordinary one.
‘A special variant.’
Encrid’s intuition assessed the creature as his eyes confirmed it.
Its claws were tipped with poison.
The blackened tips left faint marks on the ground wherever they touched.
‘Scorched marks around its mouth.’
It had no whiskers, dry skin, and lips like thick leather.
‘It might be able to breathe fire.’
No, it would definitely breathe fire.
Luagarne always said every fight begins with observation. Even during sword training, he heard the same advice repeatedly.
Jaxon also emphasized proper observation before fighting.
As Encrid confirmed the manticore’s state, the Fairies launched the first attack.
The tree giant, which seemed like a shield, turned out to be a platform.
Several Fairies used its shoulders and head as footholds.
The giant even bent its knees to help them climb.
Their movements were agile.
Eight Fairies perched on the giant’s shoulders and drew their bows.
Creaaak.
Their arm muscles swelled, and their fingers turned pale from pulling the strings.
The eight archers aimed at the target. It all happened within one and a half breaths.
The tree giant crouched, the Fairies climbed, and they aimed.
No one gave the order, yet they released their arrows almost simultaneously.
They had said even children made arrows due to shortages.
But there was no need to doubt the quality of these arrows.
They were sturdy with properly fletched feathers.
Twong!
With the sound of strings snapping,
Whiiizzz!
Eight arrows flew as one. It was just like when they first entered the forest.
Encrid’s mind sped up as he observed the arrows’ flight.
Two aimed for the eyes. Two targeted the shoulder joints of the front legs.
The other four went for the tail. Their precision was impressive.
The manticore’s response, however, was simple.
Thud!
It closed its eyes, twisted its body, and swung its tail.
And that was enough.
Its hide was too thick for the arrows to pierce.
"I call upon the spirit of the wind for aid."
One of the eight archers began chanting.
Encrid vaguely recalled Esther mentioning this was a type of spell.
It borrowed the power of spirits—beings from another realm—and Fairies excelled at it.
A current of air surrounded one of the archers.
Her green clothes fluttered as the wind picked up.
"Ops, Wigor, Inhabito."
Meanwhile, a Druier among them stretched out her hand and chanted.
Although Encrid didn’t understand the words, he could guess their intent.
A green glow formed at her fingertips and spread to the arrowhead.
The arrowhead shone with emerald light.
The archer, borrowing the power of the wind, drew her bowstring again.
This time, she didn’t even need to exert as much strength as before.
She released the string without giving herself time to exhale.
Whish.
The sound of wind breaking accompanied the shot.
The arrow flew toward the manticore’s forehead at a speed far beyond normal.
From Encrid’s insight, it was a speed the manticore couldn’t possibly avoid.
The arrow embedding itself in the manticore’s forehead was a foregone conclusion.
It had enough force to pierce through its hide.
It had become so due to the power of the wind spirit infused into the arrow.
Moreover, the tip carried life energy, the essence of vitality.
The Fairies likely harbored some hope in their hearts.
There wasn’t time to check if it showed on their faces.
Or perhaps, due to their emotional restraint, it wouldn’t have been visible anyway.
Either way, they must have held some expectation—but their hopes were crushed.
The arrow stopped an inch away from the manticore’s forehead.
"Telekinesis."
Ermen muttered.
It was enough to be surprised, yet his voice remained calm.
Of course, inwardly, he was slightly shaken, but his Fairy restraint kept it hidden.
The manticore snorted, releasing a breath of bright red flames that burned the arrow shaft.
Fwoosh.
The burning arrow fell to the ground.
Crackling sounds echoed, and the scent of burning wood mixed with the stench of decay.
Then, eight Fairies wielding swords stepped forward.
"I wish I could’ve seen it before I died."
"Agreed."
Two of them spoke.
What they wanted to see wasn’t clear.
Among the eight was the Fairy who had once called meeting Encrid an honor.
He was a head taller than the others.
His blade was wider than the other Fairies’ swords.
The basic form of their swords was called a Nai, but each Fairy’s sword had slight variations.
Some even carried swords that weren’t Nai—long, single-edged blades.
Grrr.
The manticore didn’t seem to pay them much attention.
Its demeanor showed arrogance and the confidence of a predator.
It wielded telekinesis, breathed fire, and had poisonous claws.
As a guardian for the demon, it was perfectly suited.
This one manticore could potentially massacre all the Fairies gathered here.
Of course, the Fairies weren’t fools—they had prepared as best they could.
That preparation included arrows infused with the power of wind spirits and spells brimming with life energy.
"At least three will die."
Frog, who had the talent to assess situations and surroundings, made the prediction.
"Should I handle it?"
Pel asked.
"No."
Encrid replied and took a step forward.
In truth, the manticore had been aware of him all along.
Even when it blocked the arrow and when the eight Fairies stepped up, part of its focus was on him.
It instinctively sensed the threat he posed.
Encrid walked slowly.
Before he knew it, his steps had become like the Fairies’—quiet and restrained.
Shiiing.
As he walked, he drew his silver sword.
The blade reflected sunlight even in the foul-smelling air.
It shimmered faintly with a golden hue.
"Step aside, beast."
Encrid said as he approached.
He walked through the eight Fairies.
No one stopped him.
To them, any chance, no matter how slim, was worth taking.
Why hadn’t Sinar told him about this?
He could guess.
‘She didn’t want to transfer the demon’s curse.’
And she must have judged that what lay inside the cave was too much for him to handle.
Was it a lack of faith in him? Or a cold, rational decision?
‘Or perhaps.’
Maybe she was genuinely worried.
Encrid might be able to kill the demon—or he might fail.
The outcome was uncertain.
But if things spiraled out of control, the demon would kill everyone.
At the very least, it could deal a fatal blow to Encrid.
She must have thought it could all become an obstacle to his dreams.
"I can handle it alone, can’t I?"
Sinar’s illusion whispered.
But it was just an illusion, there was no telling how she’d actually answer.
So.
"I have someone to meet inside. Step aside."
He could get the details later. Encrid’s voice carried a forceful will.
The manticore couldn’t understand his words.
But it was overwhelmed by the aura in his voice and stepped aside.
Realizing what it had done, the manticore immediately bared its fangs.
It seemed to shout, “I’m not afraid!”
Grahhh!
Its roar echoed.
The monster’s roar was meant to instill fear.
But at that moment, it sounded more like a cry of desperation.
Its mouth didn’t just release sound, it released flames.
A fireball roared toward Encrid.
Compared to Walking Fire, it was nothing but a flicker.
The golden glow of the silver sword split the fire in half.
Thud!
The flames dissipated without burning anything.
Telekinesis tried to bind his limbs.
But his Will instinctively repelled it.
Whatever remained, he simply shook off with force.
Then came the poisonous claws.
Their momentum was fierce.
Yet, compared to the four-season swordsmanship Sinar had demonstrated, it was nothing but a wild beast’s flailing.
A faster and stronger sword carved through the monster—from its head to its tail.
Even the snake’s head on its tail writhed and tried to bite.
But Encrid’s sword stroke passed cleanly through it.
If the Fairies had shown their skill by targeting small weak points with arrows, Encrid proved he could do the same with a sword.
It was something he couldn’t have done before.
But now, he could—and so he did.
Splaaash.
The manticore’s black blood pooled like a puddle, and its entrails spilled haphazardly across the ground.
"Fantastic."
Ermen said as he watched.
His voice was still dry, but within it, a faint trace of admiration could be heard.
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