Chapter 628

Chapter 628

Moments in time become distinct. The scope of awareness grows. You move past simple vision—perceiving with your ears, catching scents with your nose, and registering the air against your skin. Because his physique had already reacted instinctively, determining the exact millisecond the projectile would arrive was simple for Enkrid. He analyzed the pace and path of the approaching arrow and found his solution. He shifted his arm into the trajectory of the bolt and closed his hand tight. Click. A low vibration. The arrow was trapped in his grip. Its destination had been certain—just beneath his shoulder. “They weren’t looking to kill.” The entire event concluded just after the whistling wind reached him. Enkrid remained still with his right limb raised, the wooden body and fletching of the arrow pulsing in his palm. He could feel the intent behind the shot—yet he had no idea where the source was located. According to the mechanics of the path, it arrived from the front. His logic accepted that—but his intuition disagreed. The disconnect between physical law and gut feeling was… captivating. “I can’t detect a thing.” Pell remarked. Enkrid surveyed the area, the arrow still clenched in his hand. His eyes found nothing either. As they stood there in observation— Whir. Three additional arrows streaked forward. The archer was so perfectly timed that the noise of the three shafts cutting the air merged into a single sound. That was merely the audio. Within his heightened state of awareness, Enkrid recognized it immediately—there were three projectiles. He had already intercepted one—why not intercept three? Releasing the first, he snatched two of the arrows out of the air using both hands and struck the third with his foot. Thud! The kicked projectile spun off to the side. Catching an arrow was a feat—but knocking one away with a kick? That was nearly impossible. Only a high-ranking knight could pull off such a maneuver. “Probably a spell,” Pell said from the rear, his fingers resting on the pommel of his blade. He meant they were unable to locate the shooters because of an enchantment. Enkrid gave a silent nod, continuing to wait for a reaction. They were clearly not being welcomed, that much was obvious. Should they strike back? Would any movement result in another barrage of arrows? Perhaps if he parried them all, they would finally start a conversation? “Quite a spirited greeting, don’t you think, you long-eared idiots?” Lua Gharne barked, seeing no reason to be civil toward people who had just shot at them. “…Foreigners are forbidden from entering.” A voice echoed from beyond the emerald haze. Even hearing the words, Enkrid couldn’t pinpoint where they originated. That same sensory dissonance remained. Not that he was without options—he could always start cutting down the trees behind the fog. “That would certainly enrage them.” Fairies—even the ones Enkrid had only seen in the past—held a deep hatred for the felling of trees. It wasn’t that they would sacrifice themselves for a single branch or blade of grass. More accurately, their protection of the woods was about guarding their territory. Like any people, they prioritized their own survival and growth. And the woods were perfect for fairies: their primary sustenance consisted of leaves, grass, dew, and fruit. The forest’s vitality was their life force. This was why they revered a gargantuan tree at the center of their settlement—naming it the World Tree. Sometimes it possessed great magical or holy power. At other times, it was simply a very old tree. In any case, Lua Gharne had just tossed out a sharp insult, so a typical fairy would have told her to rot. Instead, the voice merely repeated: “This region is not for strangers.” “Understood.” Enkrid replied with indifference. “If I shouted ‘Shinar, come out and play,’ would she appear?” Not likely. So should he storm in and cause a scene? He was still considering his moves. Holding two arrows in his hand served as a significant threat, depending on who was watching. “We acknowledge your talent. But even if you slay us, the seal will not open.” Another fairy voice answered. It was logical, steady, and detached—even with their lives on the line, fairies spoke with pure reason. That coldness reminded Enkrid of Shinar. Even though a conversation was happening, it felt like addressing the wind. The speech was crystal clear—but the speaker’s position? Still impossible to find. After reaching mastery in sensory arts, Enkrid could distinguish a northern wind by the movement of a flag. He had even permeated his body with Will. Yet he still couldn’t find the speaker. He wasn’t here to bully them—or to cause chaos. Though if the situation turned sour, a few swings of his sword might be necessary. If they were the ones mistreating Shinar? Then he would have to engage in some “forceful negotiations.” He had done it before—with burning spirits and holy knights. It wasn’t a “pleasant” way to talk. After those thoughts drifted by, Enkrid finally spoke. “Shinar Kirheis.” He stated the name of the fairy he had heard before—declaring his goal. Still, no presence could be detected in the woods. “I have come to find her.” He added, allowing them enough time to digest the information. “…Who are you?” Finally, a somewhat normal reaction. Enkrid assumed he had very little to offer them. Surely the fairies had no idea who he was. But that wasn’t entirely accurate. Fairies might live behind seals, but they weren’t completely isolated from the world. They traded. They communicated. Pell, who had been raised in a lonely shepherd’s town, had seen how even hidden societies knew the names that carried weight. If someone like Enkrid became a figure of renown—there was no keeping it a secret. He also suspected that identifying himself before mentioning he was from Border Guard would leave a better impression. Truthfully? He just wanted to be the first to speak. Pell moved forward. Before Enkrid could say a word, Pell raised his voice. “The Lord of Border Guard, Guardian of the Frontier, Knight of the Iron Wall, Slayer of Demons, Heartbreaker of Wom—ah, forget that part. The Mad Knight Enkrid!” His voice was sharp and loud—it rang out past the emerald haze. Perhaps he was still feeling frustrated from the beating he took during their practice. He had slipped in a jab. But it worked. “Knight of the Iron Wall?” Another fairy’s voice, not the first one. “The Protector of the Demonic Lands?” Yet another. The titles were starting to stack up. Enkrid nearly spoke up, but stopped. Ultimately, you don’t change a reputation with words—you do it with your deeds. The fairies still spoke softly and logically, but now their voices held faint traces of feeling: admiration, shock, as subtle as a leaf shivering. Only a highly sensitive person would even notice it. “Heartbreaker? Maybe that’s why Shinar came back on her own…” Some muffled comment came from the background, but Enkrid paid it no mind. At least they weren’t holding Shinar prisoner. “May I come in, then?” Enkrid asked. Fairies only accepted invited guests—that was their custom. “If you truly are the Knight of the Iron Wall.” The voice came back. They didn’t just take his word for it. More questions and responses followed. But in truth—catching arrows and knocking them away had probably been proof enough. If a conflict started, hiding behind the haze wouldn’t protect them. Even the fairies behind it were aware of that. In short—a person of that strength had no need to pretend to be someone else. “It is a privilege, Demon Slayer.” A clear male fairy’s voice answered. “I’ve never witnessed someone catch arrows in that manner. Truly extraordinary, human knight. And to kick one away…” This time a female fairy spoke. It was difficult to determine her age from her tone alone. Their voices became more distinct. The haze started to thin and drift. Now he realized—the mist had been completely motionless the whole time. “A perception-blocking enchantment.” He understood only once it started to shift. He filed the sensation away in his mind. It wasn’t on purpose—more of a reflex, like training his sensory skills. As the fog faded, blurred figures appeared. The haze didn’t vanish entirely—but as the sun sank and shadows grew long, five fairies became visible. Most people think of fairies as small and delicate. The reality was… different. Three of them were small—not quite dwarfs, but shorter than human adults. More like young adolescents. Their frames looked thin—yet they carried longbows that were taller than they were. Despite the fragile look, you could see defined muscle along their arms. These weren’t children. The three archers were female—the ones who had shot at him. The other two were male. One was quite large, and the other had hair as white as snow. Enkrid’s attention stopped on the white-haired one. He looked a second too long at his hair—and the man saw it. “Interested? Fairies turn gray as they get older.” “It’s the first time I’ve seen it.” “Most go back to their ancestral homes to die. So yes, it is rare. I’ll offer an apology for the arrows. They were only meant as a warning. We didn’t anticipate you catching them.” Enkrid gave a nod. As the fairy stated, none of the arrows had been aimed at lethal spots. the final three had been a test—of his prowess. So, it really wasn’t a major issue. He was here for Shinar. And now, he was standing before someone who might have the answers. He looked at the white-haired fairy. He seemed to be the leader. Shinar had once told him that fairies respect their elders. The older they are, the more wisdom they have—and so their words carry more weight. She’d made a point of it several times, right after mentioning her own age. “Come. Enter the village.” The elder gave the invitation. Enkrid nodded. Pell and Lua Gharne followed. “Demon Slayer.” The large male fairy called out. His sharp jawline and intense eyes gave off a hostile energy—but a small spark of respect was visible in his look. You really had to search for it. They had been raised from infancy to hide their feelings. So for them, this was the equivalent of a human shouting in joy. The other fairies’ eyes held similar looks—though three of them had a strange longing in their expression. It was barely there. Enkrid only noticed it because he had spent so much time with Shinar and sharpened his perception. The fact that they recognized his name—and looked at him in that way—was definitely unusual. The large fairy spoke with precision, choosing his words carefully. His tone was rigid and cold, but measured. “It is an honor to meet you.” It wasn’t just the words, but the sincerity behind them. Yes—he meant it. Enkrid sensed it in his tone and nodded back. This had been the same fairy who had called it an “honor” earlier from behind the haze. “If the opportunity arises later… may we spar?” He added. The same steady tone. Enkrid was already familiar with it. “A challenge?” “Yes.” “Anytime.” As they talked, the white-haired fairy interrupted. “Do you think this is the time, Zero?” Still a neutral voice. “My apologies, Elder.” Zero lowered his head. If they were human, you might think he wasn’t actually sorry. The other three fairies stayed quiet once they were out in the open. Clearly, they weren’t the talkative sort. Enkrid had nothing more to say. “Quite a combat-ready fairy.” Pell said dryly. A mocking comment. Not that anyone could tell if he was being serious. The fairy locked eyes with Pell. Pell stared right back. A quick spark of tension—but the fairy looked away, and the moment passed. “Disappointing.” Pell whispered. To be fair, Pell was always ready to pick a fight. It’s just that Rem usually outdid him. “I need to stay focused.” Enkrid made a note to himself, using Pell as an example of what not to do. “This way.” The elder turned around and led them forward. He walked into the haze, making almost no noise. Soft steps—the natural elegance of the fairies. They truly were natural-born stalkers. As they stepped into the emerald mist, vision became even worse. It was a magical seal that stopped even light from passing through. Because of Esther, Enkrid had learned enough about magic to recognize that much. Eventually, the ground sloped down a bit—and before them was a strange tunnel. Leaves were woven together in a perfect circle, creating a long corridor. The floor and the ceiling were composed entirely of foliage. How they had built this—Enkrid couldn’t even guess. He stepped inside, losing his sense of time. Nothing but leaves in every direction, the smell of greenery and blossoms, like a hallucination. It didn’t even feel like magic. Then all of a sudden—he blinked, and the tunnel was gone. Before him stood the city of the fairies. “Welcome to our home,” said the white-haired elder. There were no high walls or massive fortresses—but something incredibly shocking appeared right away. Puff. A giant figure made completely of timber raised a limb like a branch—and took a hit from a cigarette. “What are you looking at? Never seen a tree have a smoke before?” The wooden giant asked. Enkrid felt the sudden need to pinch his own arm to see if he was awake.