“Damn it.”
Bran spoke in a voice like rustling leaves.
“That was impressive.”
His rough words carried a faint trace of emotion.
As Encrid pulled back his sword, Luagarne handed him a square cloth. He wiped the silver blade stained with the manticore’s blood and sheathed it.
The ringing sound of the sword sliding into its scabbard broke the tense silence.
The others were still stunned after witnessing the manticore being slain in a single strike.
The looks of admiration directed at Encrid now carried awe and disbelief.
“He killed it in one blow?”
“Unbelievable.”
“We can’t think of him as a rival.”
A few fairies murmured among themselves.
Encrid didn’t think fairies were fools.
In fact, he was certain they could have defeated the manticore even without his intervention.
If four archers supported the eight swordsmen, along with spirits and life energy spells—
‘At worst, one might die?’
With a bit of luck, they might have won without any casualties.
And if there were no surprises, luck might not even have been necessary.
‘They could do it with skill alone, without losing a single person.’
Though killing it in one strike, as he did, would have been difficult.
On the surface, it did seem like Luagarne’s prediction of at least three deaths had merit.
But if one person resolved to sacrifice themselves?
These fairies carried that kind of determination.
Their solemn eyes revealed their resolve.
Seeing the fairies’ eyes after the kill, Encrid understood.
Some were driven by sheer determination, while others were prepared to die.
There was a distinct difference between those who braced for death and those who didn’t.
‘Soldiers.’
It was the difference between soldiers and civilians.
Encrid’s natural insight and judgment had always been sharp.
Now, combined with techniques like situational awareness and predictive vision, he could instantly grasp the core of any situation.
‘The fairies also have soldiers.’
The group here was composed mostly of such individuals.
Mixed among them were civilians.
The eight swordsmen clearly bore the marks of training. Even by Border Guard standards, at least four of them could handle basic drills.
With proper training, their emotional restraint would make them formidable warriors.
Among the archers, there was a clear gap between professionals and hobbyists. Some wielded elemental energy and spirits, while others relied purely on skill.
So—
“It’s better if only a select few enter the cave.”
Encrid spoke calmly.
Ignoring reality would only lead to more deaths.
“I was thinking the same.”
Ermen replied, as though watching a dog bark from across a river.
“Fairies are stubborn.”
Bran added.
They knew their odds were grim, yet they had still planned to go in.
“Even knowing they’d die?”
Encrid asked.
Bran opened his mouth to answer.
“Some lack a sense of reality. Others couldn’t accept that everything was left to Sinar. And—”
“And?”
The kind-hearted tree giant gave a faint smile.
His bark-like lips curved upward, forming a grin.
“There are four warriors who love Sinar. They’d rather die than leave her as the demon’s bride.”
As Bran spoke, three fairies approached from beside the tallest one.
They were male, and their bodies bore the signs of rigorous training. They looked like soldiers—disciplined and resolute.
Their expressions were calm but serious, brows slightly furrowed as if in thought.
The smallest of the three exhaled softly, barely audible, and spoke.
“I’d be fine as her second husband. What about you?”
Encrid took the absurd comment at face value, interpreting its meaning.
He wanted to be Sinar’s second husband.
Then who was the first?
‘Me.’
For a brief moment, Encrid felt his mind go blank.
“...Is that how fairy society works?”
It was the only response he could manage to hold on to his composure.
Nobles sometimes had multiple wives or concubines.
Perhaps, in reverse, it wasn’t unheard of for a woman to have multiple husbands.
They said emptiness allowed the room to be filled.
Encrid set aside his surprise and chose to respect their culture. Then the other two fairies spoke simultaneously.
“Stop joking.”
“I’ll be the third—ah, never mind.”
The third fairy closed his mouth mid-sentence, realizing his blunder.
Ermen fixed him with a sharp stare.
By human standards, it could be called a stern look.
Luagarne, listening from the back, nodded.
“So it was a joke.”
That was a relief—probably.
Or perhaps it was better to admire their courage for joking even in this situation.
Afterward, Ermen began dividing the group into those who would enter and those who would stay.
While discussing their reasons, most of them kept glancing at Encrid.
They must have realized something. There was no doubt about who had the best chance of rescuing Sinar.
A demon slayer.
That explained why they welcomed him so eagerly. Their admiration now made sense.
‘A sword that can kill demons.’
That’s what these fairies wanted most. There was no political agenda or ulterior motive.
It was a single-minded resolve to save Sinar.
They hadn’t reached out earlier because they thought Encrid had rejected Sinar’s plea.
It wasn’t a lack of desperation. As Encrid pondered, Ermen’s voice broke through.
“Bran, can I count on you?”
“Who else could you count on but me?”
“Brisa.”
“Yes.”
“Arcoiris.”
“I’m ready.”
Ermen called out names.
Those not chosen quietly voiced their reasons for wanting to join.
Many spoke of how much they had cared for Sinar.
And yet—
Were they the same ones who had once called her cursed? It was hard to tell whether it was a fairy joke or sincerity.
So Encrid didn’t bother to judge. He let them be.
While the others spoke, Encrid focused on the cave.
“This place isn’t ordinary.”
Luagarne said beside him.
“It’s a Demon Realm.”
Encrid replied.
Pel added his thoughts.
“Whatever it is, we just need to cut through everything.”
Confidence was good.
Pel’s performance dropped by half when he lost confidence.
Even during sparring, Encrid often encouraged him to maintain his momentum.
“Shepherd of the Wilderness? You mean the kind that gets beaten up by sheep?”
“You’re worse than Lawford.”
“With that skill, you talked about talent?”
“What are you doing? Dancing?”
These kinds of comments often pushed Pel to perform at his best.
Tailoring remarks to match the opponent was Encrid’s specialty.
And now, he did the same.
“Yeah, I’m counting on you.”
Pel shrugged, straightening his shoulders.
Boosting morale with just a few words, it was an efficient trade-off.
As Encrid stared at the cave entrance, he felt a sense of foreboding.
It gnawed at his mind, whispering like a vengeful spirit. But Encrid dismissed it without a second thought.
They said Demon Realms plant seeds of crimson dread just by being seen.
But it didn’t work on Encrid. The same went for Luagarne.
For her, foreboding was often a symbol of change.
And for Frog, ever skeptical, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“How do you feel right now?”
Luagarne asked as she noticed a faint blush rising on Encrid’s face.
She occasionally asked about his feelings, and this was one of those times.
What perspective did this man have, and what thoughts guided him in this moment?
It was a question driven by curiosity, befitting a Frog.
Encrid briefly examined his emotions and answered honestly.
“A little excited.”
It was the truth.
A demon, was it? He was curious about what it had to show.
When immersed in sword training, there were times he craved real combat.
This felt the same.
Encrid acknowledged that he had a predatory instinct to seek out enemies.
“I figured you’d say that.”
Luagarne nodded.
By now, Encrid’s responses were becoming somewhat predictable—an outcome of her observations and studies.
For her, it was satisfying to have her curiosity partially fulfilled.
At the same time, she grew more eager to see what else he would show.
While Encrid looked forward to the fight, his primary purpose remained clear— To find Sinar and ask her questions.
He hadn’t forgotten that.
As the three of them stared at the cave together, Bran approached with his usual cigarette.
Ermen was still busy persuading some of his kin.
Snippets of the fairy language could be heard in between.
“What’s the name of that Demon Realm?”
Encrid asked the familiar Woodguard.
Bran formed a ring of smoke with his lips before putting out his cigarette with his fingers.
For ordinary fire to burn Bran’s skin was impossible.
A cigarette ember was nothing to him.
Not that being resistant to fire explained why a tree giant smoked in the first place.
Trees hating fire was a natural rule. Bran smoking was unusual and fascinating.
If this were a human, the equivalent action would be extinguishing a cigarette by crushing it barehanded.
Of course, species differences made it hard to compare directly.
“It doesn’t have one. We just call it a labyrinth. To be exact, we deliberately left it nameless. Sometimes we refer to the demon inside as the ‘Courting Demon’, but we never gave it a proper name.”
Courting Demon. It was quite a romantic title.
Bran’s explanation made it clear why they avoided naming it.
The more it was named, feared, or worshipped, the stronger the demon would grow.
Rem had said something similar from a sorcery perspective.
“Not naming it on purpose, huh? That sounds like a last resort. But wouldn’t that mean you’ve already been beaten badly enough to be afraid to even call it by name?”
While their approaches differed, the ideas were similar.
“Looks like they’re ready.”
Bran said.
Turning around, Encrid saw it was true.
Three more fairies had stepped forward, with Ermen standing beside them.
“With Bran, that makes four. We’ve narrowed it down.”
So they had drastically reduced their numbers.
“Four?”
Luagarne asked.
Being a Frog, she never let unanswered questions slide.
Even if her main focus was on Encrid, she wouldn’t overlook something she didn’t understand—like now.
“I’d just get in the way.”
Ermen excluded himself.
When it seemed everyone was prepared to march to their deaths, even Ermen was ready to go inside.
But with a glimpse of hope, he now aimed for a small elite force.
Luagarne couldn’t understand why so many who could help were being left behind.
“Did you leave out all those who handle spirits or energy?”
“We had no choice.”
Encrid observed the labyrinth—the so-called Demon Realm—and thought about the fairies’ abilities with spirits and energy.
‘If they could kill a manticore...’
They were certainly strong.
‘They’ve handled the monsters outside so far. Yet the fairy Knights who entered the labyrinth all died.’
What did that tell him?
His mind raced and produced the answer.
“Are fairies unable to use energy inside?”
Ermen’s eyes widened slightly— a rare show of emotion.
He quickly regained his composure and nodded.
“Yes. That’s why we only chose those who trained their bodies.”
Encrid’s insight bordered on foresight.
His thoughts flowed and organized themselves, quickly reaching conclusions.
Fairies who relied solely on energy never planned to enter the cave.
If they did, they’d only add to the body count.
Ermen had planned from the start to persuade his kin to limit their numbers.
Encrid’s presence simply accelerated the decision.
‘A catalyst.’
It was easier to convince the others after Encrid arrived.
For fairies, energy was the foundation of their strength.
But if they couldn’t use it inside the cave, they’d lose most of their power.
“We can’t leave Lady Sinar as the demon’s bride.”
The fairy who joked earlier spoke. His tone was calm but carried an undertone of resolve.
His name was Arcoiris. He was one of those entering the cave.
He was right—they couldn’t leave her there.
Encrid planned to question her first once he found her.
Understanding the situation left him with no further objections.
“May the spirits of trees and flowers protect you, And may the Goddess of luck watch over you.”
Ermen said.
Encrid, having finished checking his equipment, had nothing else to prepare.
“Let’s go.”
With a brief farewell, he stepped forward.
The dark scorch marks at the cave’s entrance marked the boundary of the labyrinth—the Demon Realm.
And just like any house reacting to an uninvited guest, the labyrinth welcomed them in its own way.
Grrrooowl!
As they stepped inside, darkness engulfed them.
But their senses weren’t cut off. It was simply that their eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the sudden darkness.
Smells, sounds, and touch remained sharp.
And so did their instincts.
The moment Encrid heard the growl, he gripped both swords and drew them.
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