‘The Fatigue Was Overwhelming.’
Two full days of pushing his body and mind to the brink. This wasn’t a normal state—it wasn’t his usual self.
‘If it had been, I’d have stopped that easily.’
It wasn’t overconfidence, nor was it an attempt to rationalize his failure.
It was a habit—a ritual of reflection. What should be done if a similar situation arises? Or better yet, how could such a scenario be avoided in the first place?
The latter was a line of thinking rooted in Luagarne’s training methods. Not every Frog thought this way, which is why it bore her unique signature.
Her training and combat thinking had shaped one of the core elements of Encrid’s newfound ability to divide his thoughts. He built upon this, advancing it further.
"Combat begins with claiming your position."
A place where sunlight doesn’t blind you, where shadows don’t obscure your vision, and where you don’t face a headwind.
The smallest advantage can make all the difference.
There wasn’t much need to deliberate on it—the answer came quickly.
The distinction between the two approaches was clear: one focused on immediate combat strategy, while the other explored solutions through analysis and contemplation.
The conclusion?
‘Both body and mind still have room for improvement!’
By circulating Will throughout his body, he could fortify it. The term for this practice had been coined long ago: Endure.
The ability to endure impacts and pain transforms one’s body over time. Skin toughens, becoming akin to that of a giant—almost like armor.
Will strengthens the body.
Whoever first devised Endure or the notion of “iron skin” must have aimed to replicate the resilience of a giant’s hide. First toughen the skin, then solidify muscles, organs, and tendons.
‘So, is Will all that’s needed?’
No. Strengthening through Will requires a solid foundation to begin with—a strong body and mind.
These can only be achieved through repetitive training.
Even though his current level far surpassed that of an ordinary Knight, Encrid’s ambition burned like a wildfire capable of consuming mountains.
And so, his conclusion boiled down to a single word: ‘Training.’
Despite having just slain a demon—a feat that might bring satisfaction or celebration to others—there wasn’t even a hint of complacency in him.
Within the mental construct of the dreamscape, the ferryman observed Encrid’s restless drive.
The black, rippling waters of the river lay eerily still. The ferryman stared silently before finally speaking.
"Training, even now?"
"Ah."
Encrid looked up, as if only now noticing the ferryman. He didn’t make a fuss, though.
"Don’t pretend you’ve only just seen me, mortal."
"Ah… ah."
Encrid nodded slightly.
"I know you noticed me long ago, yet you were too lost in your own thoughts to acknowledge it. Do you think I can’t read your intentions here?"
"Ahhh…"
With nothing better to say, Encrid responded with a string of empty exclamations. He wasn’t trying to provoke the ferryman, fortunately.
The ferryman, unbothered, continued.
"That’s just the kind of person you are. Very well, I’ll tell you something important. The blade that struck you bore the demon’s Will."
"I see."
Encrid nodded again, not truly grasping what was being said.
Normally, the ferryman would have stopped there, offering no further explanation. But today was different.
"If you succumb to that Will, then… well, we’ll all get to meet a new demon."
The unusual tone prompted Encrid to ask,
"Is it a curse of some kind?"
"A curse? Do you think any curse could possibly affect you?"
The ferryman’s eyes flared with violet light, glowing ominously.
"No curse has that power."
From his words, Encrid gleaned a few key points.
The demon’s blade had carried a curse, but the ferryman had already dealt with it.
"Should I be thanking you?"
"That won’t be necessary."
Their conversation skipped over details, leaping to conclusions with the brevity of minds operating far outside ordinary bounds.
Encrid locked eyes with the ferryman. His gray, rugged skin contrasted sharply with his piercing gaze and high-bridged nose.
He bore a striking resemblance to the warrior with the shield from his dreams.
If that warrior had been blond with blue eyes, the resemblance would’ve been uncanny—enough to think of them twins.
"Is that… what you look like?"
"So now you finally notice my face?"
"It’s visible now."
Had Encrid grown closer to the ferryman’s essence, or was this deliberate?
He couldn’t be sure. Perhaps it was chance, or perhaps the ferryman had let his guard down slightly.
Regardless, it wasn’t something the ferryman would explain if asked.
"Why did you help me?"
Encrid inquired, thinking of the guidance he’d received.
"If you’d been trapped in that kind of today, there’d have been no entertainment in it for me."
The ferryman smirked faintly. His distorted expression was unsettling, but it was unmistakably a smile.
"And if you don’t want to die, then struggle. Surely you wouldn’t want to repeat such a today, would you? I left the door open for you—just to see if you’d entertain me."
As the ferryman spoke, something slithered in the shadows behind him. His words were sharp, laced with malice, and Encrid could sense it.
"If you’re devoured even once, it’s over."
The ferryman concluded ominously.
The meaning of his words was beyond Encrid’s grasp—it was impossible to fully comprehend what he hadn’t yet experienced.
He blinked, and the river, the ferryman, and the lamp vanished, replaced by a vision of the demon.
No, it was the being that existed before it became a demon.
No one needed to tell him—it was obvious.
This was the demon that had craved the flesh and blood of fairies.
It had once been a fairy itself, one that sought not just vitality but ascension. Its ambition and desire had consumed it, transforming it into a demon.
Emotion pierced like a blade—its desperate hunger, its burning desire. Who but Encrid could understand that?
"Look at me!"
The fairy’s memories surged forward, invading his mind like a flood.
"See my entire life!"
The reasons for its descent into demonic corruption, the depths of its ambition—all were laid bare.
The demon’s intent was to corrupt his Will, to stain and distort it.
But Encrid merely skimmed through the memories, letting them slide past.
Just as he had ignored the ferryman’s taunts to focus on training, he dismissed the demon’s desperate attempts to ensnare him.
The demon raged, scrambling to entice him.
"Take my Will—accept it! I’ll grant you power beyond imagination. I’ll strengthen your Will!"
Encrid had never felt his Will was lacking.
"I’ll make your body unbreakable, stronger than human limits!"
Audin had once said: "There’s no substitute for proper training—no shortcut. Anything else is a falsehood."
Even Rem, a fellow madman of the Knight order, had deferred to Audin when it came to Encrid’s physical training.
"Training is about stacking your todays, one on top of another."
Audin’s words echoed.
Encrid had accepted that truth long ago, lugging stones and enduring punches to forge himself into iron.
Thus, the demon’s words held no sway.
Realizing this, the demon’s tone shifted. From a frantic scramble, it softened into hollow persuasion.
"I’ll grant you irresistible charm—enough to beguile any being…"
Utterly unnecessary.
"...Damn it all."
The demon cursed.
It repeated its name over and over, yet Encrid let it wash over him, never taking it in.
For someone who listened carefully, Encrid also knew how to ignore completely.
And so, without fanfare or emotion, he erased the existence of the fairy-turned-demon.
The fairies had refused to even name the creature, denying it any acknowledgement.
Their approach was one of distance, but Encrid took it a step further. He obliterated it entirely.
Complete disregard.
The demon had tried to assert its presence through fear, attempting to carve itself into reality. But Encrid wasn’t someone such tactics could ever affect.
"Madman."
Those were the demon’s final words, but Encrid, having already dismissed it entirely, forgot them almost instantly. He felt the light pierce through the darkness of unconsciousness and opened his eyes, speaking softly.
"I slept well."
He had woken from a dream, though his muscles still ached. It wasn’t as though he’d been lost in a desert, but his throat felt dry. Rising from where he lay, Encrid’s casual remark elicited a response.
"What do you mean, ‘slept well’?"
It was Luagarne, though his vision was still blurred. After blinking a few times, clarity returned.
"I had a dream, but I don’t remember it."
If the defeated demon had somehow overheard this, it would likely have cursed not just Encrid’s parents but his ancestors as well.
"Talking about dreams at a time like this?"
This time it was Pel, speaking as Encrid took in his surroundings. He noticed the unfamiliar ceiling—it seemed to belong to one of the fairy homes. The air carried the faint scent of grass, and the ceiling was a weave of wooden vines. Yet there was another smell mixed in—a faint, acrid smoke.
"The hero awakens."
It was Bran. Only now did Encrid fully register the scene. Dozens of pairs of quiet, watchful eyes stared at him, filling the room and making it feel claustrophobic. The fairies had packed the space, all standing silently.
"What’s… all this?"
He asked, startled enough to show it. It felt like a bizarre nightmare.
"Just a select group of fairies gathered here, ready to pool their life force to save you, should anything happen. Too many, perhaps?"
It was Sinar who answered. Sitting on a chair by the head of his bed, her green eyes glinted with her usual restrained demeanor. Her tone was calm, almost cold, but carried an undercurrent of warmth.
For Encrid, such subtleties were all too familiar.
"You slept for ten days."
Pel added the explanation.
"That explains why I feel so light."
"Do you know you nearly died?"
"Not really."
Encrid had completely forgotten about the demon’s desperate attempts in his dreams. Not just dismissed—it had been pushed entirely into the recesses of his memory.
He listened as they recounted what had happened. Blood-red eyes that wept tears of blood, a nosebleed that wouldn’t stop, veins bulging grotesquely across his body. A raging fever had cracked his lips, leaving dried blood caked over them even now. He absentmindedly picked at the scabs.
Despite the grim accounts, his thirst wasn’t as severe as it should have been.
"Sinar stayed at your side for days, giving you water."
Bran mentioned. As if on cue, Sinar picked up a wooden flask, pouring water into her mouth before offering a faint, mischievous smile—like she was silently explaining how she had fed him.
She swallowed the water with a soft gulp.
In truth, she’d used a specially crafted leaf funnel to hydrate him, though Encrid had no way of knowing that.
The room remained filled with fairies, dozens of them. Among them, he spotted one who had guided him earlier, though he couldn’t recall their name.
This day had already been far too long, and after expending everything to kill the demon, he had no energy left to remember such details. He’d nearly forgotten the maze itself.
"Uh, are you… Jorman?"
Encrid guessed at the name of one fairy who seemed to be a leader.
"Who’s Jorman? I’m Ermen."
The fairy corrected him, not with irritation but with a patient kindness. The atmosphere he exuded was almost impossibly accommodating.
Having pieced together enough of the situation, Encrid assessed his body. It didn’t feel as bad as he’d expected.
At that moment, Sinar stood, prompting the surrounding fairies to instinctively step aside in orderly deference.
Sinar Kirhais—known as the Golden Witch in the Border Guard, a queen among the fairies here—knelt gracefully before him. With her green eyes fixed on him, she bowed her head and spoke.
"On behalf of all fairies, I express our gratitude to you, Encrid of the Border Guard. And before these witnesses—the representatives of every fairy clan here, as well as your companions—I swear the following…"
"Who are you calling a companion?"
Pel muttered under his breath, but no one else made a sound. It was unclear whether this oath had been prearranged or if everyone had simply expected it.
The room held its collective breath.
Encrid, feeling a bit blindsided by the solemnity, stayed silent.
Sinar smiled—a radiant, angelic expression that could easily earn her the title of the Golden Angel instead of the Golden Witch. Her perfectly symmetrical face, accented by emerald eyes and soft, rosy lips, formed words that resonated through the room.
"Until the day I enter eternal rest, whenever you desire… I shall spar with you."
Encrid noticed that she had deliberately paused and altered her words mid-sentence.
Her oath was based on the fairy marriage vow:
"Until the day I enter eternal rest, I will remain by your side."
But she had transformed it into something entirely different.
No comments yet. Be the first to leave a review!