In the vision, Eitri spoke.
“Really?”
It was a short but pointed question, one that the real Eitri would never ask.
‘Even if I temporarily use another sword…’
Outwardly, she might seem indifferent, but inwardly, she would surely redouble her efforts, honing her craft to create something even greater than this.
The thought occurred to Encrid that this new sword might inspire Eitri as much as discovering new swordsmanship inspired him.
“The name of the sword is Penna. In the language of the continent, it means something like ‘feather’ or ‘leaf’.”
Rafrathio said, her gaze drifting to Encrid’s waist. Specifically, to Ember.
“You won’t be able to use that anymore, so hand it over.”
She added.
It seemed as if she had been expecting this, or perhaps she had already prepared for it.
It was likely the latter.
Encrid had broken the Silver Sword into pieces, and Ember was now cracked.
When he had mastered and utilized the Wave-Blocking Sword Technique, he hadn’t noticed the state of his weapons. But afterward, it became clear that he no longer had an intact weapon.
The demon’s orange, glowing attacks had been ferocious—striking like lightning, as swift as a flash.
To block them, Encrid had employed the high-speed cognitive processing and split-second decision-making necessary to manifest the Wave-Blocking Sword. In doing so, he had not only exhausted the Silver Sword but had also used Ember as a makeshift shield when needed. As a result, no weapon had survived intact.
‘By the time I left the labyrinth, even my ‘luck’ was gone.’
The sword named Luck had burned away while saving Sinar’s life. The blade had literally turned black and crumbled to ashes in the fire.
Encrid hadn’t witnessed this himself; he had collapsed right after the fight.
Now he realized just how much of a blessing that sword had been.
Without hesitation, Encrid unfastened Ember and handed it over. Rafrathio accepted it and placed it carefully to the side.
Later, he learned that Ember was also a creation of Rafrathio’s hands.
“What do you think?”
Rafrathio asked, her tone emotionless, though Encrid detected a faint trace of expectation in her voice.
Penna. A feather.
It was all there.
As he gripped the sword, it fit perfectly in his hand. The blade was smooth and flexible, sharpened on only one side.
Rafrathio plucked a strand of her own hair and placed it on the blade.
With a soft hiss, the hair was severed without a sound.
“In terms of cutting ability alone, this is the finest weapon I’ve ever crafted.”
Rafrathio said, switching from the fairy language to the common tongue of the continent.
Her words rang true, the blade’s edge was sharper than any Encrid had ever seen.
“It doesn’t require maintenance. The energy imbued in it keeps the blade honed. The metal, Moonlight Silver, was forged by refining the purest Silver of the Moonlight with spirit energy.”
Silver of the Moonlight—a legendary metal, rare beyond measure.
“This is too good. Isn’t it a treasure of the city?”
Encrid remarked.
It was an honest impression. The blade’s length barely exceeded two handspans, making it unsuitable as a primary weapon, but its versatility was undeniable.
“It’s a treasure, which is why I’m giving it to you.”
Rafrathio replied, as if the statement were self-evident.
And that wasn’t the end of it.
While the fairies had appeared busy with preparations for migration, they had also been working tirelessly to prepare gifts for their savior.
“You gave him Penna? Didn’t you say you’d die clutching it?”
A Druier entered the forge, stepping lightly on the ground as though her body were weightless. Her movements resembled leaves drifting in the wind.
It was the same female Druier Encrid had seen in the clearing before.
With a radiant smile, her green gemstone-like eyes sparkled, exuding a supernatural beauty distinct from Sinar’s.
“I didn’t die, did I?”
Rafrathio replied calmly as the Druier approached. It was a reference to surviving the labyrinth and the demon’s domain when death seemed certain.
Contrary to the Druier’s teasing, Rafrathio showed no regret about giving Penna to Encrid. If anything, she seemed glad he had accepted it.
“We have something to give you as well.”
The Druier said.
From stories Sinar had told him, Encrid recalled that Druier fairies prioritized the collective over the individual.
This trait was shared with fairies like the dust-scattering Fairies but was less common among Woodguards and other individualistic fairies.
Fairy society functioned that way, but it wasn’t something Encrid needed to dwell on.
“Come.”
The Druier said, taking Encrid’s hand and leading him away.
Behind them, Luagarne puffed out her cheeks in amusement.
“His allure is shining again.”
“There’s even a rumor going around that he’s a bride thief.”
Pel added.
Encrid turned to Pel, his gaze sharp. Enhanced by his improved insight, he discerned the truth behind the comment. Pel’s eyes shifted slightly to the side, a telltale sign.
The so-called “bride thief” rumor was Pel’s doing.
“Stop spreading weird rumors.”
Encrid said, his tone resolute and even laced with a hint of willpower.
“How do you even know that?”
Pel asked, not bothering to offer any excuses.
Pel’s intent wasn’t malicious. Shepherds were known for spinning tales and deceiving others for amusement. The fable of the boy who cried wolf wasn’t entirely baseless, after all.
It wasn’t that Pel had a reason for spreading the rumor—he simply found it amusing to see how easily the fairies believed him.
“You’re easy to read.”
Encrid said.
Looking at Pel, a new idea formed in his mind, something unrelated to the knightly ranks he had been refining earlier. It wasn’t fully formed yet, but it felt like a thread he could follow.
“Being predictable doesn’t matter if you can’t stop me.”
Pel retorted challengingly.
“Prove it in a sparring match.”
Encrid replied before following the Druier.
Crossing several paths, they came upon a small stream flowing within the city.
It was remarkable to see such a natural feature within the city. As they crossed the stream, they arrived at a part of the city Encrid hadn’t seen before, a grove bursting with leaves.
The air was so warm and pleasant that it was hard to believe it was winter.
Butterflies and bees flitted about, adding to the magical atmosphere.
“This is to wear under your armor.”
The Druier said.
At her gesture, two smaller Druiers, both a head shorter than her, brought over a large leaf.
When they unfolded it, their gift was revealed.
The Druiers wove threads from special trees, soaking them in Woodguard sap for days before drying them under moonlight.
This process, repeated for years, produced a single spool of what was known as Fairy Thread.
The gift they presented to Encrid was clothing made from this thread—an undergarment designed to be worn beneath armor.
‘If Krais saw this, he’d probably faint.’
This was not something even a handful of gold coins could buy.
Just as humans classified fabrics into various grades, so too did fairies with Fairy Thread.
The garment they offered was made from the strongest thread among them.
It was a sleeveless vest that protected the torso. A simple flick of a finger revealed it was as sturdy as chainmail forged from steel.
“It’s resistant to fire and won’t rust because it isn’t metal. And since it’s imbued with energy, most malevolent spirits will flee at the mere sight of it.”
Fairy energy was akin to vitality itself, a natural counter to malevolent spirits.
The fairies thrived on the outskirts of the continent, not because they lacked challenges but because their very presence repelled monsters.
Now, however, they faced threats that couldn’t be warded off by energy alone.
‘If they can’t protect themselves…’
Then they must rely on the protection of others.
The situation had come to this.
Understanding the fairies’ plight wasn’t necessary, but Encrid naturally grasped it.
To seek help, they would need to set aside their pride. If Ermen alone made that decision, it would face internal resistance.
That would jeopardize their migration.
Persuading each stubborn fairy individually would take too long. Their slow response had nearly led to their destruction before, and their ingrained traits wouldn’t change overnight.
Yet acting too hastily could lead to chaos. What plan could quell all these objections?
Encrid thought he might know the answer.
‘Could this be Sinar’s doing?’
Or perhaps Ermen’s?
Encrid had received countless gifts and become the fairies’ idol.
In one corner, fairies were carving statues of Encrid from stone.
Children carried small versions of these statues as charms, making it a fleeting yet widespread trend to own an Encrid figurine.
For the fairies, this was a natural choice.
‘Help is needed, but it cannot be sought from just anyone.’
A trustworthy figure, someone they could depend on. By idolizing such a person, they could preemptively quell any dissatisfaction that might arise from within. It was a way to suppress dissent.
Humans ignite fire to use it, Frogs watch fire when it rises, giants fight fire, and dwarves use fire to forge metal.
Beastmen flee from fire, dragons ignore it.
And fairies?
‘Before the fire even starts, they pour water over it.’
This was a proverb that described how one approached a crisis.
Fairies were always prepared. That was how they had managed to live while avoiding the Demon Realms all this time. They had not only relied on spirit energy but had also lived their lives carefully. Even now, this remained true.
Encrid had chosen their migration site, but even without him, the fairies would have tried to ensure his involvement.
It felt like a subtle and sophisticated bait. The fairies never lied, so instead, they might simply choose to say nothing at all—neither lie nor truth.
Amusingly, as Encrid reflected on this and other recent thoughts, he felt it connected to something deeper he had come to understand.
It wasn’t that he had any sudden revelations, but it felt like another piece of the puzzle.
It wasn’t criticism but rather something worthy of praise.
Encrid also thought he understood what Ermen truly wanted.
What Ermen desired wasn’t the prosperity of his kind, it was their survival. In that sense, he was an admirable fairy.
When Encrid returned, having received numerous gifts, he found Ermen waiting outside his lodgings.
“The preparations for the migration are almost complete. Will you come with us?”
“I think it would be better if I went ahead first. If people see trees walking, some might mistake them for monsters and panic.”
Ermen had previously explained the migration process to Encrid, and he understood it well.
This was no ordinary migration, with wagons piled with pots and pans.
“Ah, humans might indeed get frightened.”
Ermen said.
Encrid thought of adding that some humans might not only panic but also charge recklessly, but he decided against it. It wasn’t an important point.
Watching Ermen’s calm demeanor, Encrid asked bluntly,
“Whose idea was it to idolize me?”
The question came out of nowhere, but Ermen, unbothered, answered immediately.
“The idea was mine, but Sinar pushed it forward.”
Encrid realized Ermen was more cunning than he appeared. Conversely, Ermen also understood that this man wasn’t just a sword-wielding brute.
This understanding reassured Ermen further.
If his people were to rely on someone, it was better for that person to be composed and level-headed rather than a madman swinging an axe and splitting heads indiscriminately.
From what Sinar had said, there were such madmen in the Border Guard—those who got lost and ended up slaying knights from enemy nations.
Such people were incomprehensible to fairies.
In truth, even humans didn’t fully understand the behavior of Mad Knights, but people didn’t need to fully understand one another to coexist.
Ermen had merely adopted that mindset.
“Well then.”
Ermen said.
The migration would take several months. A smaller group would leave first.
‘It’s safer to move in stages, prepared for potential dangers.’
Encrid thought.
There might be monsters or beasts along the way, but from what Encrid had seen of the fairies’ capabilities, these wouldn’t pose a significant threat.
‘If anything, the neighboring territories will be more shocked by the sight of the migrating fairies.’
In any case, before the migration began in earnest, Encrid left the city.
“Fiancé, are you leaving without even making a child?”
Sinar’s parting words were certainly memorable.
“Does saying things like that make you happy?”
Encrid asked in return.
Sinar’s affection for her savior was as vast as the sea. She nodded with a smile full of warmth.
“Very.”
As Encrid prepared to leave, the fairies stopped what they were doing and gathered to see him off.
Some handed him letters, while others gave him neatly prepared fruit.
“How dare you flirt with my fiancé?”
Sinar scolded, her tone as flat as ever. Of course, she wasn’t truly angry.
The fairies she addressed didn’t so much as twitch their ears in response.
“Isn’t the final victor the one who wins in the end, Kirhais?”
One particularly bold fairy threw down a challenge, though it was clearly a fairy-style joke.
Encrid listened but gave up trying to understand.
“See you later.”
Sinar said. She would join the next migration group, so it was only a temporary farewell.
Aside from Luagarne and Pel, Zero also joined as a guide. In a short time, his skills had improved dramatically.
He had an exceptional ability to channel his emotions into battle, a talent unmatched by any other fairy.
When emotions surged, they didn’t throw him off balance; instead, he harnessed them to fight. It was a rare and exceptional gift, though Encrid’s guidance had undoubtedly played a role.
As they traveled, Encrid shared his insights and realizations with Luagarne.
At a glance, it might have seemed like they were merely passing the time with conversation, but that wasn’t the case.
“I see.”
Luagarne said with a nod, then added,
“You have something in mind.”
This Frog was incredibly perceptive.
“Yes. Frog with the ability to discern limits must have a structured system, right? Am I wrong?”
Frog saw limits. By understanding those limits, they could clearly define an endpoint. Knowing the endpoint meant knowing the beginning, and with both the start and end in sight, they could subdivide the path between them.
It was a logical conclusion. Frog’s ability to discern limits inherently possessed a structured system.
“Tell me about it.”
Encrid said.
Even though he had established a framework for the knightly ranks, he knew it wasn’t the end.
Luagarne realized again just how remarkable the man before her was.
His hunger for knowledge and growth was one of his greatest driving forces. If he had been a Frog, he would have jumped into a fire without hesitation if it meant learning something new—even if it meant his death.
‘If he were a Frog…’
As long as it didn’t break loose, he would survive anything, pushing his body to the limit to keep learning.
Come to think of it, his current self wasn’t all that different.
“Alright.”
Luagarne replied without hesitation.
She had nothing to hide or hold back. The inspiration she gained from this man shattered one of her long-held beliefs.
‘Limits can be broken.’
She herself was proving it.
Hearing the framework Encrid had devised, she had only one thought.
‘The method to break limits.’
That was the path Encrid was walking now.
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