Encrid nodded calmly, his attitude as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Meanwhile, Bran and the fairies watching from behind blinked in surprise. They couldn’t believe what they’d just heard.
"What did she just say?"
"I want to eat an apple while watching the blue sky and clouds. I want to tease Krais by secretly stealing from his pockets. I want to teach Seiki a few more things."
Sinar said.
"Alright."
Encrid replied, his answer seamlessly supportive without interrupting her words.
Sinar added a few more sentences. Her wishes were utterly modest, things anyone might call simple dreams.
And yet, all those dreams existed within the time she had spent with Encrid.
When the demon stole away stability, peace, joy, and hope, Sinar discovered how to wield elemental magic.
Her wishes, too, were tied to her time living like a spark, her Igniculus.
The fairies' spark was a condensed form of life—a series of experiences—and all of Sinar’s experiences had taken place at Encrid’s side.
"You should never have come back."
Bran spoke, his voice tinged with a deep regret rarely seen in fairies, whose emotions were usually restrained.
"You should’ve stayed where you were."
Bran repeated himself.
"That would have been fine as well."
Arcoiris added, while Brisa’s expression darkened. The luminous stone in her hand dropped slightly, forgotten in the intensity of the conversation.
"Sacrificing yourself to buy time, is that how it always ends?"
Only Zero brought up a different perspective.
Zero’s words stemmed from knowledge of those who had died for the city. Beneath his words lay a resolute will—he did not want Sinar to sacrifice herself.
‘Strong-willed, that one.’
Encrid thought to himself.
He could vaguely sense what Zero desired.
Zero didn’t want Sinar’s protection. If there was a demon to fight, he was ready to face it. If this was the end, so be it, but until then, he would fight with all his might.
It wasn’t a typical fairy mindset.
But perhaps it was only natural for a fairy born during the era of the demon’s plunder.
Not a child of trees and flowers, but a warrior raised as an enemy of the demon, Zero had learned to fight rather than live peacefully.
Of course, Sinar had not merely lived as a cursed child. She had given everything to protect Kirhais, the fairy city.
The fairies present here understood that. Only those who knew the truth had remained in the city.
They also understood that they were hostages. If they fled, the demon would hold Sinar solely responsible.
Sinar, too, understood this.
If she left, the demon would torment the remaining fairies one by one, dragging them to slow, painful deaths.
It was an unchanging fact.
As long as the demon existed, it would demand new fairies as sacrifices, draining their vitality and consuming them.
Eventually, it would find Sinar, exposing the sins she had tried to avoid.This was all part of the demon’s plan.
They were shackled to each other, bound by chains so tight that they tore at the skin, drawing blood without ever loosening.
Encrid loosened his grip on his sword and straightened his posture. He listened intently to every word Sinar spoke, not missing a single syllable.
His attitude made it clear how seriously he took her words.
Amid her words, he discerned their meaning:
‘I want to stand beside you. I want to spend the rest of my days in the Knighthood, simply watching, listening, and enjoying life."
To some, it might seem like a modest dream. But to Encrid, there was no such thing as a modest dream, only precious ones.
And Sinar’s dreams were precious to him.
If he couldn’t even protect a child who dreamed of baking bread, why wield a sword?
What could he possibly protect if he couldn’t safeguard the people by his side?
In the same way, if that older fairy wished to fulfill her dreams, Encrid would support her. That’s why he had come.
To be honest, asking why she had left was just an excuse.
Whatever her duty was, he had come to meddle and interfere. He admitted it.
Though he wouldn’t say that out loud.
At this moment, Encrid recalled the Knight who had protected her city with her life.
In the Gray Forest, he had lost Oara. Was it now Sinar’s turn to be lost?
It was a question he had asked himself before, and his answer remained unchanged.
"I won’t let it happen."
"Do you know the blue-nosed deer? I am that blue nose."
Sinar said.
No one could know, but the demon had whispered into Sinar’s ears for centuries.
"You are a cursed fairy. Everything about you belongs to me."
The demon had also urged her:
"If you want to live, bring someone like yourself as a sacrifice."
For so long, Sinar had believed that everyone around her had died because of her.
Her memories surged forward, both painful and joyous, tormenting her.
"If it weren’t for you, wouldn’t everyone have lived happily?"
Naira, her sister, asked her in a nightmare.
The truth was, it had all been a chance. The demon had schemed, and the fairy child enraptured by fire was not to blame. Sinar knew this, intellectually.
But her heart told a different story.
"Run away. You have no obligations."
Bran had said, as had the fairy elders.
There were those who had supported her, those who had helped her withstand the demon’s whispers. Sinar wanted to protect them. That’s why her personal desires felt meaningless.
"A blue-nosed deer shouldn’t live among other deer."
Sinar tried to steady the boat of her heart, rocking in a storm of emotions.
Encrid assessed the situation. While there were things he didn’t know, he pieced together the rest from what he did.
His conclusion was clear. Sinar, like the others, likely intended to die with the demon.
The fairies had come prepared to end her suffering, knowing she would endure torment for their sake.
Sinar was ready to sacrifice herself, enduring the demon’s torment while waiting for a moment of weakness or an opportunity to strike.
Though Encrid understood this, he said nothing. Knowing wouldn’t change the outcome.
"That’s none of my concern."
The words he spoke were wrought from sheer will.
"Indeed."
Luagarne struck her palm.
"We knew that stubbornness wouldn’t be swayed."
Pel added.
The fragile boat rocking in the storm seemed ready to break apart.
Sinar knew she would regret this. But even knowing that, she couldn’t stop. The boat shattered into pieces, scattered in the waves.
But what does it matter? If there’s no boat, you swim. If there are no legs, you crawl.
Encrid’s life had always said as much.
Because she was moved by that life, Sinar had admitted she admired him.
Her lips opened, her tone even and calm.
"If you save me, you’ll be responsible for all the fairies. That’s my dowry."
Hearing this, Encrid’s previously courteous demeanor vanished, replaced by one so blunt it bordered on rude.
"I can’t do that."
"You can’t?"
Sinar asked.
"If it weren’t for the dowry, I would."
Encrid replied.
The labyrinth was utterly dark, the luminous stone dimming as its light waned.
Yet Encrid himself seemed to radiate light.
Was it from his demeanor, his words, or something else entirely? Sinar didn’t know. But that’s how it felt.
"Then, Enki, will you save me?"
Sinar asked again.
"I will."
Encrid nodded.
While everyone else focused on the conversation, Encrid’s hand remained on his sword.
His gaze shifted behind Sinar, where a creature that had been lurking by the bone chair now stepped forward, its footsteps echoing in the silence.
The demon that had tormented Sinar had discarded its vocal cords and hidden itself within the darkness, submerging into silence. Of course, it hadn’t done so to simply retreat quietly.
"The Demon One-Killer."
Sinar muttered.
All she knew was its name. The fire-wielding demon that had once existed was gone. Using its will as a hammer and time as an anvil, the demon had reforged itself.
Having shed its physical form, the demon split itself into two entities: one focused on battle and the other on production. Among them, the battle demon, whose sole purpose was annihilation, was the One-Killer.
Facing it, Encrid could feel its overwhelming intent.
It wasn’t necessarily violent or savage. Instead, it felt utterly pure.
Why did it feel that way?
‘Unadulterated intent to kill.’
If one were to transform all their Will into the clearest intent to kill, would it manifest like this?
Attack, kill—that was the entirety of its purpose.
Its eyes were hollow sockets, with no nose or mouth, and the areas where human eyes would be were instead filled with faintly glowing orange light.
The glow wasn’t limited to its eyes. Its metallic-looking skin was etched with irregular lines like patterns, from which light also emanated.
Though it stood on two legs like a human, each of its arms ended in long blades, akin to holding swords with both hands.
The light radiating from it gave off a palpable heat. As the demon stepped forward, the surroundings brightened as though a light source had been added, but it wasn’t blinding.
Encrid fully understood who he was up against.
The enemy of all species, the antithesis of intelligence, the guardian of evil and injustice.
A demon.
‘Its form resembles a Heartless.’
In the Demon Realm, there are creatures known as Heartless—beings who have offered even their hearts to a demon, transforming into monsters. They fight with blades in place of arms and cannot be killed unless their heads are severed.
‘The neck.’
Could that be its weakness? He wasn’t sure. Visual observation alone didn’t provide enough information.
The One-Killer took a step. The orange light pierced the darkness, its glow almost distracting.
But Encrid wasn’t solely reliant on his eyes and wasn’t fooled.
‘The foot.’
Encrid observed how the demon pressed its foot into the ground, transmitting force from its ankle to its knee. Its movement was reminiscent of a seasoned swordsman’s.
Thud!
The demon pushed off the ground, driving its blade downward. Encrid raised his silver sword to meet it.
If he poured all his Will into countering the first strike, he wouldn’t be able to block the second. Yet he couldn’t aim for the demon’s neck on the first swing either.
Accelerated thoughts calculated and predicted the outcomes. He infused only half his Will into his upward strike.
The two blades clashed in mid-air.
Bang!
The impact was as though lightning had struck right beside them.
Though the demon’s frame was slender, its strength rivaled Encrid’s. It didn’t feel as though it had used its full power either.
Encrid absorbed the force of the clash and stepped back three paces. The One-Killer did the same, its left blade held vertically in a defensive stance.
Was it waiting for the next attack? If so, Encrid felt he owed it an apology—he had been momentarily catching his breath in his excitement.
Yet, it was a moment when no one could resist being captivated.
"Don’t interfere!"
Encrid shouted at Pel and Luagarne.
"This one’s mine."
He continued.
The One-Killer had no mouth, so it couldn’t smile. Yet it felt as though it was grinning.
Of course, a being forged of pure murderous intent wouldn’t possess such expressive abilities.
It was likely a hallucination—a reflection of how Encrid viewed his opponent.
A demon.
This might be the first time he had truly faced one.
The Balrog was merely a fragment and had been killed by Oara. Count Molsen was nothing more than a servant. He had never truly faced the master of the Ten Thousand Wraiths.
But now—
“Perhaps I’ll earn the title of Demon Slayer for real.”
If he could defeat this one, it would be deserved.
The demon lowered its arms, its glowing eyes fixed on Encrid.
Its murderous intent was focused entirely on him, as though an imaginary blade would pierce his abdomen.
Of course, that wasn’t happening.
‘Deceptive Slash.’
The very act of facing the demon seemed to trigger an interpretation of the Valen Mercenary Sword Style’s Deceptive Slash.
This was a formidable foe. Stronger than any he had faced before. How could he not enjoy it?
“This is maddening.”
Ignoring the phantom blade conjured by his enemy’s will, Encrid muttered.
Everyone watched the fight intently, and his words rang loud and clear.
"This is too much fun."
He murmured again.
The onlookers couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Was that something to say while facing a demon?
Those who knew him nodded knowingly. But to the unacquainted, it was nothing short of shocking.
"He’s insane."
Bran muttered.
Encrid, of course, believed he was the only sane one in the Knightly order.
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