Chapter 632

Chapter 632

“Curse it.” Bran’s voice emerged with the parched rasp of autumn leaves skittering across the ground. “I have to admit, that was a sight to behold.” The tree giant’s gravelly tone, though repetitive, was now tinged with a genuine flicker of feeling. As Enkrid pulled back the steel he had just buried in his foe, Lua Gharne stepped forward to offer him a square of fabric. He took it, meticulously wiping the manticore’s gore from the edge of his True Silver Sword before sliding the weapon home. The sharp, metallic clack of the blade meeting its housing was the only sound in the heavy quiet that gripped the company. The entire group had fallen into a stunned hush after witnessing the manticore being split asunder with a single movement. The gazes that had previously held Enkrid in high regard were now clouded with a mixture of profound wonder and sheer skepticism. “Did he really end it with just one strike?” “Simply astounding.” “There’s no way I could ever measure up to that.” Several of the fairies whispered amongst themselves, their voices low and hurried. Enkrid didn’t mistake the fairies for being incompetent. His reasoning? Even without his intervention, it wasn’t a certainty that three of them would have perished just to take down the manticore, despite Lua Gharne’s grim assessment. If four of their marksmen had provided cover for the eight swordsmen, and if they had funneled their spiritual essence and life force into the fray— ‘At the very worst, there might have been a single death.’ With a stroke of fortune, they likely could have emerged victorious without a single casualty. And perhaps it wouldn’t even require luck, provided they possessed hidden talents he hadn’t yet witnessed. ‘Through sheer mechanical proficiency, they could have felled the beast without losing a soul.’ Of course, they couldn’t have finished it in one breath as he had. To a casual observer, Lua Gharne’s dark prophecy—that three would fall for the beast to die—seemed like a reasonable estimate. But what if even one individual had made the firm choice to offer their life for the rest? These were folk who possessed that brand of iron will. He could read it in the somber glint of their eyes. He could sense it just by observing the eyes of the fairy he walked past after the battle ended. Some were merely fueled by a grand sense of duty, but a handful had already made their peace with the grave. That distinction between those who are truly prepared for the end and those who are merely playing a part— Soldiers. That was the line separating a combatant from a civilian. Enkrid had always been gifted with sharp situational awareness and a keen eye for detail, but when he combined those with his heightened senses, his ability to read the terrain, and the knightly talent known as “Future Sight,” he was now capable of stripping a situation down to its skeleton in a single heartbeat. ‘Even fairy society has its martial caste.’ They were the ones who formed the backbone of this particular band. The rest were merely civilians caught in the middle. The eight fairies who had unsheathed their blades were clearly individuals of discipline. By the standards of the Border Guard, at least half of them would have successfully navigated the rigors of basic combat schooling. If he were to actually subject them to a real training regimen, even the most stoic fairies would likely grit their teeth in frustration—but they had clearly been forged by some form of past hardship. As for the bowmen, the gap between the career warriors and the hobbyists was glaring. Certain fairies clutching bows were capable of manifesting spirits and internal energy. However, a large portion lacked that ability. Which was precisely why— “Only a chosen few should set foot inside that cavern.” Enkrid’s voice was blunt. Ignoring the reality of the situation would only lead to a higher body count. “I expressed the same sentiment,” Ermen remarked, his tone suggesting he was watching a triviality unfold from a distance. “Fairies possess a certain stubborn streak,” Bran chimed in. “They intended to go in, fully aware that their numbers and strength were lacking.” “Even with the knowledge that it meant their lives?” Enkrid posed the question, and it was Bran who provided the reply. “Some of them have simply lost their grip on what’s real. Others find it impossible to live with the fact that every burden has been placed on Shinar’s shoulders. And then there are the others—” “And the others?” The benevolent tree giant offered a ghost of a smile—the rough, bark-like skin of his lips twitching upward just a fraction. “There are four young men who are deeply enamored with Shinar. Even if it costs them their lives, they refuse to let her remain the consort of a demon.” While Bran was speaking, three fairies detached themselves from the side of the towering giant and stepped toward the front. All of them were male, and all displayed the bearing of trained combatants. Soldiers. Warriors. That was the aura they projected. Their countenances were composed yet burning with intensity. Their brows were knit together, lost in heavy contemplation. The most diminutive of the trio took a slow, stabilizing breath before finding his voice. “I am perfectly content with being the second husband. What are your thoughts on that?” It was a preposterous statement, yet Enkrid grasped the underlying meaning immediately. He was declaring his desire to be Shinar’s second spouse. So, who did that leave for the first position? Me, Enkrid realized—and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt beneath his feet. “…Is that truly the way fairy society functions?” He only just managed to force the words out. Among the human aristocracy, the practice of taking concubines or multiple partners wasn’t unheard of—though it wasn’t the standard everywhere. Thus, it wasn’t entirely outside the realm of possibility that some civilizations practiced polyandry. Where there is a void, something will eventually step in to fill it. Rather than reacting with shock, Enkrid decided to simply acknowledge their traditions. Then the remaining two fairies spoke up. “Stop with the nonsense.” “I’d be satisfied even as the third—actually, never mind.” The third had started to follow the joke but bit his tongue. Ermen was boring into him with a fixed stare—if translated into human expressions, it would have been a look of severe reprimand. Lua Gharne, observing the exchange from the rear, gave a small nod. “So, it was merely a jest.” Was that… a feeling of relief? Or should one marvel at the audacity of these fairies for cracking jokes in such a dire hour? Following that exchange, Ermen began the task of designating who would descend into the cave and who would remain on the surface. Each individual attempted to argue their case, yet every one of them kept stealing glances at Enkrid. The truth had finally dawned on them. It wasn’t difficult to discern who actually possessed the raw power required to bring Shinar home. The demon slayer. ‘So that is the reason for those looks.’ The expressions of awe and hope were logical—assuming they were already aware of his reputation. ‘A blade capable of felling a demon.’ That had to be what the fairies yearned for most in this moment. Not for the sake of power struggles. Not for personal gain. Simply to rescue Shinar. They hadn’t reached out to him before because they were under the impression he had turned down her request. But that didn’t mean their hearts weren’t filled with a desperate longing. As he was lost in thought, Ermen’s voice cut through the air. “Bran, I assume I can rely on your strength?” “Is there anyone else who could possibly fill my shoes?” “Brisa.” “Present.” “Arcoiris.” “I am prepared.” He called out several names. The fairies who weren’t chosen quietly explained the reasons they felt they should go. Some spoke of how much they had always loved and protected Shinar. One even claimed that his devotion was why he had labeled her a “cursed child”—it was a title born of affection, not malice. It was impossible to tell if that was a quirk of fairy humor or something else entirely. Consequently, Enkrid decided not to dwell on it. He would let them handle their own affairs. While the discussion continued behind him, Enkrid turned his focus toward the yawning mouth of the cavern. “This isn’t a natural cave.” Lua Gharne took a position at his side and nodded in agreement. “It is a Demon Realm.” Hearing Enkrid’s assessment, Pell decided to chime in as well. “What does it matter what it’s called? If we just cut down everything in our path, it’ll turn out fine, won’t it?” The bravado was a positive sign. In the past, Pell had a tendency to buckle when the stakes were high, failing to display even a fraction of his true capability. Enkrid had always made it a point to bolster his spirit before a real fight, often with just a few pointed remarks. “Is the Shepherd of the Wastes really going to let his own flock push him around?” “You’re a far cry from Rophod.” “You have the nerve to mention talent with those clumsy moves?” “What’s that supposed to be? A new dance step?” Those were the barbs that usually pushed Pell to tap into his hidden reserves. Matching the right motivation to the right person was one of Enkrid’s particular skills. He employed that tactic now. “Indeed. I’m counting on you to pull your weight.” Pell rolled his shoulders, feeling the weight of the expectation. If a handful of words could raise a man’s spirits, it was a small price to pay. Even as he stared into the dark entrance, Enkrid felt a ghost of a shadow touch his heart. It sent a faint tremor through him, whispering in his ear like a lingering spirit. But he dismissed it without a second thought. It was common knowledge that even a glance at a Demon Realm could sow the seeds of a deep, crimson terror in a person’s soul. But such things held no power over Enkrid. Nor did they affect Lua Gharne. For someone like her, that sense of unease was just another state of being to be experienced and transformed. And for Frokk, a man so riddled with his own uncertainties, it was actually a stimulating sensation. Lua Gharne looked over at Enkrid and caught the very faint, reddish glow appearing on his skin. “How are you feeling in this moment?” She frequently inquired about his internal state. This time was no different. She sought to understand what this man perceived, what he pondered, and how he processed the world around him. It was a question perfectly suited for a Frokk. Enkrid examined his own feelings and gave an honest answer. “I’m feeling a bit of a rush.” It was the truth. A demon, was it? He was genuinely curious to see what it would throw at him. When you pushed your swordsmanship to the absolute limit, you began to hunger for a true test of your steel. This was exactly that feeling. Enkrid realized it now—he possessed a deep-seated craving for a worthy foe. “I suspected as much.” Lua Gharne gave a small nod. She was starting to get the answers she expected. Her time spent observing and studying him was beginning to pay off. Her Frokk-driven curiosity was slightly satiated—and her excitement for what he would do next only grew. Enkrid had his own expectations, certainly. But above all else, his primary objective was to find Shinar and hear the truth from her own lips. He hadn’t lost sight of that. The three of them stood in a line, gazing into the abyss of the cave—until Bran walked up behind them, that familiar twig of herbs still clamped in his teeth. Ermen was still in the middle of talking down some of his more persistent kin. Occasionally, fragments of the fairy tongue would drift over to them. “What is the name of this Demon Realm?” Enkrid directed the question to the Woodguard standing beside him. Bran exhaled a flawless ring of smoke before snuffing out the glowing tip of his herb stick. Normal fire couldn’t pierce Bran’s thick, bark-like hide, so a few embers didn’t even cause him to flinch. Not that it explained why a creature of the forest would take up smoking in the first place. Trees generally loathe fire. That was an universal truth. Which made Bran’s habits all the more peculiar. Regardless, if a human had done what Bran just did, it would have been the equivalent of crushing a lit cigar into their bare palm. But one couldn’t use the logic of humanity when dealing with a different race. “It lacks a formal name. We simply refer to it as the ‘Labyrinth.’ To be more precise—we have intentionally kept it nameless. Though there are those who have dubbed the entity residing within the ‘Suitor Demon.’” Suitor Demon. A strangely lyrical title. Listening to Bran’s explanation, Enkrid began to see the logic. The more people speak a demon’s name, the more they fear it and grant it reverence—the more strength it siphons from them. Rem had mentioned something along those lines once, speaking from the perspective of a shaman. “There is a tactic of purposely withholding a name—it’s a final, desperate measure. But if you’ve reached that level of fear, it means your spirit has already been fractured. So much so that you lack the courage to even utter its name.” The reasoning was slightly different, but the end result was the same. “We are nearly ready to depart.” Bran shifted his weight. He was correct. Three more fairies were approaching, with Ermen walking alongside them. “Including Bran, that brings our number to four. We have trimmed the group down.” Trimmed was an understatement. It was a radical downsizing. “Only four?” Lua Gharne inquired. Being a Frokk, she never allowed a question to go unasked, even if her primary focus remained on Enkrid. This was no exception. “I would only serve as a hindrance,” Ermen answered. He had been prepared to march in when they believed they were all walking to their deaths—but now that a glimmer of hope had appeared, they were opting for a small, highly specialized team. What Lua Gharne struggled to comprehend was why so many of their skilled members were staying behind. “It appears that none of your spirit or energy practitioners are joining the foray?” “That is an unavoidable necessity.” Enkrid shifted his gaze from the group back to the Labyrinth. He thought back to the various skills he had seen the fairies employ during the earlier skirmish. ‘If they could fell a manticore using that power…’ That represented a significant amount of destructive potential. ‘They managed to hold off endless waves of beasts before we arrived.’ Yet, the fairy knights who had ventured inside previously had all perished. What did those two facts mean when put together? His thoughts quickened, racing toward a logical conclusion. “The fairy energy can’t be manifested inside, can it?” Ermen’s eyes widened a fraction. He was visibly taken aback. However, he quickly regained his composure and offered a nod. “Correct. That is precisely why we are only committing those who have forged their physical bodies through training.” At this stage, Enkrid’s gut feeling was starting to border on prophecy. His logic aligned and clicked into place, reinforcing his theory. ‘The fairies who rely entirely on their energy never had any intention of going in.’ If they had, they would have been nothing more than walking corpses. From the very beginning, Ermen had planned to talk his people into sending only a handful of warriors. Enkrid’s arrival had simply served to speed up that decision. He was a catalyst. His presence made it much easier to persuade the others to step back. After all, energy was the very foundation of a fairy’s combat ability. If they were stripped of that inside the cavern, they were functionally helpless. “We cannot permit Lady Shinar to remain as the demon’s spouse.” The fairy who had made the joke earlier spoke up. His voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable edge of grim determination beneath it. He was one of those selected for the mission. His name was Arcoiris. He was right. They couldn’t leave her there like that. First, they needed to find her—and demand an explanation. Now that the situation was clear, there was no more room for debate or doubt. “May the spirits of the wood and the blossoms watch over you, and may the lady of luck turn her eyes your way.” Ermen provided his final blessing. Enkrid had completed his final check of his equipment. There was nothing left to do. “Then let us begin.” With a brief nod of departure, he took the first step. The charred, black marks at the cavern’s mouth marked the boundary of the place they called the Labyrinth—the Demon Realm. And as is the case with any residence, when an uninvited guest crosses the threshold, the master of the house reacts accordingly. Grrrrrrk! As they stepped into the interior, the shadows rose up to meet them, though their other senses remained sharp. Only their vision needed a moment to compensate for the change. the scents, the echoes, and the cold textures were all still there. And more than anything else, the instincts that flared to life all at once. The moment that guttural growl reached his ears, Enkrid’s hands were already moving—drawing both of his swords in a single, fluid motion.