The chair carved from bone glowed faintly blue in the darkness, emitting a chilling light unlike sunlight or moonlight.
Sinar's golden hair, as she sat upon it, appeared dull and ominous under the eerie glow.
"Welcome. Let me introduce you. Here is my companion."
As Sinar spoke, she extended her hand backward.
Before anything could be seen, the stench reached them first—rotting meat, secretions, excrement, and every imaginable foul odor gathered in one place.
An ordinary person wouldn’t have been able to withstand it without pinching their nose. Encrid opted to block his sense of smell entirely.
As senses sharpen, one often learns how to dull them at will. After suppressing his sense of smell, he craned his neck forward, taking in what she presented with her open palm.
Behind him, Brisa raised the luminous stone higher, extending its range of light.
Although it didn’t illuminate everything, it was enough.
A troll, an ogre, and even a ghoul stood revealed. The troll sat astride a two-headed beast with the face of a dog.
They didn’t roar or drool; they simply waited, as if anticipating Sinar's command.
"The part about a companion was a joke."
Sinar’s voice resonated like a tuned keyboard.
"Instead, I decided to become their queen."
A lie.
Fairies don’t know the concept of lying. They only learn deceit after wandering the continent and enduring hardships. Sinar had learned to lie that way—clumsily.
What would Krais, a born liar who reveled in using his sharp intellect to deceive, think if he saw Sinar now?
Would he say, "What do you usually think of me?"
Though it wasn’t a moment to laugh, the thought amused Encrid.
Confronted with such a clumsy lie, he couldn’t help it. Still, he didn’t laugh. Why?
Perhaps it was the fairies, with their mastery of emotion control.
Their habit of absorbing and mimicking their surroundings had unconsciously influenced him.
This wasn’t anger, but simply how it was.
"Now, shall we fight my children?"
The unique troll, ogre, and ghoul stepped forward, standing before the bone chair.
"…Whose children are you referring to?"
From behind, Arcoiris stepped forward. The fairy who admired Sinar failed to conceal his emotions, which were etched across his face.
The faint wrinkles at his eyes, his furrowed brows, his trembling lips—all betrayed his inner turmoil.
Though not as distorted as a human's, the emotions were evident.
"This isn’t necessary."
Arcoiris murmured, his voice so soft that everyone present could hear.
"I cannot leave you as the bride of a demon."
His determination was clear, but something had changed since his earlier declarations.
In his eyes glimmered a light—a glimmer of hope.
The source of that light required no guesswork.
From the darkness emerged the owner of those glowing blue eyes, who unsheathed his weapon.
Ching!
The blade of the silver sword absorbed the luminous stone’s light, reflecting a white glow akin to moonlight.
Some said silver resembled the moon because of its mysterious sheen.
Seeing the light radiating from Encrid’s sword, anyone would likely nod in agreement.
"You shouldn’t have come here."
Sinar spoke, and Encrid raised his sword indifferently, holding the blade between his eyes to focus.
He observed the approaching beasts. His accelerated thoughts sharpened his insight, revealing glimpses of the future.
"Take the ghoul, Pel."
Behind the ghoul, something like soot appeared—an evil spirit enhancing the creature's natural abilities.
Though neither Encrid nor his companions could know, it mattered little.
Encrid charted his path to Sinar, his thoughts racing at an accelerated pace.
Grrr!
The beasts growled, a sound like water boiling.
Thud!
The dog-faced beast, with the troll on its back, lunged. The troll extended its claws to strike.
It was fast, but its movement was straightforward, making it predictable.
Its speed and power weren’t as menacing as the Fairy Knight’s blade that Encrid had faced before.
Encrid stepped his left foot outward, pouring an aggressive amount of Will into his sword.
The silver blade vibrated with a clang, as if speaking through his palm, warning it might break apart.
Encrid channeled all his willpower into a diagonal slash.
A simple diagonal cut by swordsmanship standards, but by the concept of Correct Sword Technique, it was a Middle Sword downward strike.
Yet, it carried all of Encrid’s Will.
For a moment, even through Sinar’s gaze, the blade vanished from sight.
At speeds beyond comprehension, the sword sliced through the air.
Boom!
The explosion came from where the blade had passed. Before the sound could register, the blade had already bisected the troll and its beast mount.
The troll and beast split in half, flying apart from Encrid. A thud echoed as their black blood spilled onto the ground, soaking it.
Though the floor had been dry, Encrid had just dampened it like the previous level—with the blood of beasts.
Exhaling, Encrid flicked his sword, drawing it upward to form a high guard.
The ogre, unarmed, raised its forearm as a shield and charged with eyes peering through the gap.
Its stance, shielding itself as it charged, was almost laughable.
Encrid felt new Will surging to replenish what he had expended. This was the most invigorated he had felt since entering the labyrinth.
There was no need to aim for the gap. He would simply cleave it whole.
The oppressive weight of the labyrinth bore down on him, as if his shoulders and limbs would be crushed.
But he endured.
The willpower protecting him surged anew, allowing him to swing his blade.
Boom!
The tremendous sound signaled the end of Encrid’s second strike.
Splat!
The blade cleaved through the ogre from head to chest, spilling its brains and black blood. It reached out futilely as it toppled over with a crash.
By then, Pel had also finished off the ghoul. Its burned, disfigured arm suggested Luagarne hadn’t simply watched.
After a short silence, Sinar spoke unexpectedly.
"You’ve grown dull, Enki."
Though she called him dull, her words didn’t refer to his swordsmanship.
Everything Encrid had displayed—the refined swordsmanship, the mastery of Will, had evolved greatly, aided by Sinar’s own teachings.
Yet she declared him dull.
"If you wanted to be a Knight and move forward, you should’ve turned away. You’re so dull you won’t be able to cut through anything."
Encrid wiped his sword clean, brushing his blood-streaked hair with his left hand.
The blood of the slain beasts clung to his hand, sticky and foul.
"Do fairies have bathhouses, or do they bathe in pristine lakes?"
Beast blood stink horribly and felt awful, making him eager to wash it off.
"Sinar Kirhais."
Encrid called out.
Everyone strained to hear his next words.
Was he responding to her remark about dullness? Or asking why she was doing this?
True to form, Encrid defied expectations.
At least, for Bran and the other fairies watching, his words were utterly unforeseen.
"Why did you leave?"
It was the reason he had come here in the first place, so he simply asked.
"..."
Sinar's voice, usually as graceful as a finely tuned instrument, paused for a moment.
Darkness and silence—the two words fit together. The silence seeped into the dark cave.
Brisa, the fairy, raised the luminous stone higher, spreading the light further.
There was no visible change in Sinar’s expression. Yet, Encrid sensed a flicker of surprise from her as she opened her mouth to speak again.
"It seems like you didn’t hear a single word I said earlier."
"You didn’t write down why you left in the letter, so I came to ask."
A faint smile appeared on Sinar’s face, followed by an unexpected remark.
"...You madman."
"She’s smiling?".
It was Arcoiris who spoke, startled at Sinar’s smile. He wasn’t the only one; everyone, including Bran, was taken aback.
"You know how to smile. You don’t have to anymore. Sinar, let’s go back."
Bran said.
Sinar wiped away the faint smile and shook her head.
"I am cursed."
It was the kind of declaration that Esther, who had spent her days clinging to Encrid to break a real curse, would have scoffed at.
"So, go back, Enki. This is no place for you."
Encrid looked into Sinar’s eyes. They were dull, as if someone had spilled a paint called despair over them.
"Please, go back."
It seemed as though the paint might drip downward, yet it stubbornly stayed within her eyes.
"Tell me why I should. I came here to hear the reason."
Once again, an abrupt statement escaped Encrid’s lips. Pel, overhearing, thought to himself, Who will win against that stubbornness?
Luagarne, on the other hand, merely thought, That’s just how Encrid is.
Sinar looked at the man standing before her—blue eyes, black hair, and scars earned from countless battlefields.
Thanks to his natural appearance, one would have to closely inspect each scar to guess at the kind of life he had led.
She had once seen his body while he bathed and thought about it then—the scars and the gashes carved into his flesh told the story of his life.
-I want to become a Knight.
"What a foolish dream."
They must have said.
-I want to protect those who stand behind me.
"Focus on protecting your own life."
They must have mocked.
A flower that had blossomed amidst ridicule now stared back at her. Sinar didn’t want that flower to wither because of her.
She wanted to say all sorts of things, to list countless reasons to persuade him. To lay bare all the reasons that had brought her to this point.
The long and arduous journey of her life, every last detail, leaving nothing hidden.
Normally, she wouldn’t have wanted to share those ugly truths with anyone.
But now, she wanted to, no, needed to, if it meant sending him back.
"I have to become the bride of the demon. I have no choice."
Sinar said it again, but the man standing before her was a stubborn Knight who had risen above his humble talents.
Encrid had no intention of listening.
"Reason."
He repeated once more.
"If you marry me, you will be the price. You cannot stay here."
The strength drained from Sinar’s words.
Outwardly, Encrid’s demeanor seemed indifferent.
"Was your dream to become the bride of a demon?Is this truly what you desire?”
Sinar instinctively knew. This man would not leave until he had seen it through to the end.
Had her resolution been weak?
Or, deep down, had she hoped for this outcome?
Outwardly, she had wished for him to abandon her, to leave her behind. But had she secretly longed for this moment, for him to come and take her away?
Had her fragile soul led events to unfold like this?
Then, is it time to curse her own soul?
Sinar closed her eyes, feeling an overwhelming pressure pulling her into the abyss. It dragged her down, hurling her into the depths of her soul.
Unwanted memories surged forth from the darkness.
* * *
Thump.
As everyone has a childhood, so did Sinar.
Thump.
Her first memory after becoming aware of the world was the sound of a hammer.
And then—
"Sinar."
Her parents, who seemed indifferent but were endlessly gentle at heart, and her sister, who cherished her deeply.
"Here you are again? Come on, let’s make a flower crown."
Yes, there was such a time.
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