Chapter 636

Chapter 636

The throne fashioned from ivory-white bone emitted a faint, sapphire radiance amidst the gloom. This light was eerie, possessing a quality entirely unlike the natural glow of the sun or the moon.

Shinar sat upon it, her golden tresses appearing muted and washed out under the ghostly illumination.

“Greetings. Allow me to present him to you. My betrothed.”

As she spoke, Shinar gestured with her hand toward the shadows behind her.

Before any visual took shape, the odor reached them. It was a concentrated essence of everything foul—the stench of putrefying flesh, waste, and stagnant fluids.

A typical person would have been overcome, but Enkrid simply chose to sever his sense of smell.

The more one refined their physical awareness, the more adept they became at suppressing it when necessary.

With his nose deadened, he shifted his gaze to follow the line of her outstretched arm. Behind Shinar, Brisa raised the luminous crystal slightly higher.

As the light climbed, the darkness receded further. It didn’t reveal the entire chamber, but it showed enough.

A troll, an ogre, and a ghoul stood there. The troll was mounted upon a beast with two heads and the face of a hound. They were eerily silent, neither snarling nor slavering. They simply lingered, clearly awaiting Shinar’s signal.

“The comment about a consort was a jest,” Shinar remarked, her voice as precise as a perfectly tuned instrument.

“In truth, I have decided to reign as their queen.”

That was a fabrication.

Fairies are naturally strangers to the act of lying. It is only after they have traversed the lands and been scarred by the world’s cruelty that they acquire the skill. Shinar had learned it through such hardship.

Consequently, it was an unconvincing deception.

What would Kraiss think—a man born for subterfuge, who found joy in spinning intricate webs of lies—if he were to witness Shinar now?

He might have quipped,

“Is that really all you think of me?”

The gravity of the situation shouldn’t have allowed for humor, yet the thought brought a ghost of a smile to the mind.

Indeed, such a transparent lie almost invited laughter. But Enkrid could not laugh.

The reason lay with the fairy herself, a creature known for her deep emotional discipline.

Enkrid had unwittingly begun to mirror their traits—the habit of absorbing the atmosphere of those around them. It was a change occurring in the quiet depths of his psyche.

He wasn’t acting out of rage.

“Well then, do you intend to battle my offspring?”

The twisted trio—the troll, the ogre, and the ghoul—advanced toward the front of the bone throne.

“……Whose children are you claiming they are?”

Arcoiris, who had been observing from the rear, moved to the front. The fairy, who held Shinar in high regard, was unable to mask his feelings; they were written plainly across his features.

The minute twitching of his face betrayed his internal state. The creases at the corners of his eyes, his knit brow, and his unsteady lips all pointed to a singular emotion: deep distress. Though, it lacked the chaotic distortion of human suffering.

“This is unnecessary,” Arcoiris whispered. His voice was soft, yet in the stillness of the cave, everyone heard him clearly.

“I cannot permit you to remain as the spouse of a fiend,” he stated firmly. His determination was palpable. There was a shift from the last time he had uttered those words—a flicker of something new in his gaze.

It was the spark of hope.

And there was no mystery as to who had provided that spark.

From the shadows, the man with the glowing blue eyes unsheathed his blade.

Chiring. The true silver weapon caught the radiance of the glowing stone, emitting a soft, pale light reminiscent of the moon. True silver was often called the metal of the heavens for this very reason.

It was a supernatural shimmer.

Anyone witnessing the light pouring from Enkrid’s sword would have understood the legends.

“You should have stayed away,” Shinar said. Enkrid raised his weapon with a cold lack of emotion. He aligned the steel between his eyes, his concentration sharpening to a point. He locked onto the advancing threats. His perception sped up, the eye of insight began to function, and the immediate future laid itself bare.

“Handle the ghoul, Pell.”

Behind the creature’s frame, a dark, soot-like vapor swirled. A malevolent entity had possessed it, bolstering its strength—though Enkrid and his allies were unaware of the specific nature of the enhancement.

Even if they had realized it, it wouldn’t have changed their course.

With his mind moving at a heightened pace, Enkrid plotted a course. A straight line leading directly to Shinar.

Grrr… A low, bubbling growl emerged from the throats of the three beasts.

Thud! The hound-faced creature sprang forward. The troll on its back moved with it, extending jagged talons to strike.

The attack was swift, but it was a simple, linear charge—easy to read.

Its momentum and ferocity were nowhere near as sharp as the strikes of the fairy knight Enkrid had fought previously.

Enkrid shifted his weight to his left and simultaneously channeled a massive surge of Will into his blade.

The true silver metal vibrated with a sharp ting. It was as if the sword was communicating through his grip, a warning that his physical form might buckle under the pressure.

Then, Enkrid executed a diagonal slash, pouring every ounce of his Will into the motion.

Technically, it was a basic diagonal cut—a heavy downward swing.

But that single motion carried the entirety of Enkrid’s spirit.

To those watching—Shinar included—the blade seemed to vanish for a heartbeat.

The edge, moving at a speed that defied the eye, sliced through the air itself.

BOOM! A deafening crack followed the path of the sword. Yet, before the sound even registered, the blade had already passed through both the troll and its mount.

In a single motion, the troll and the beast were cleaved in half and sent flying in opposite directions. A heavy impact followed. Dark, viscous blood began to pool on the stone floor.

This part of the cavern had been dry—but now, Enkrid had made it as slick and wet as the levels they had left behind.

Enkrid let out a short breath and rotated his blade.

Moving the steel in a sweeping arc, he returned to a high defensive stance.

The ogre, having no weapon, used its massive forearms as a shield and barreled forward. It peered through the gap in its guard with a single, hateful eye.

It was a clumsy, desperate charge.

Enkrid felt a fresh wave of energy surge within him, replacing what he had just expended.

In this moment, more than any other time spent within the maze, he felt an overflow of power.

There was an opening between the ogre’s limbs. He could have targeted it specifically, but he didn’t need to. He could simply cut through the obstacle.

The air suddenly felt thick, as if he were wading through a morass of ground stone. The pressure bore down on his frame, trying to pin him to the earth.

‘Heavy.’

The weight was immense, threatening to rupture his veins and crush his bones. Yet, he could withstand it.

He had faced similar pressure before. A portion of his subconscious Will flared up, acting as a protective barrier around his body.

He pushed through the resistance and swung his sword again—once more, the air exploded with sound.

BOOM! Enkrid finished his second strike.

Splurt! The steel tore through the ogre’s skull and torso.

Split from its head down to its chest, the creature spilled its life force and collapsed with a resounding thud.

Nearby, Pell had finished the ghoul. The sight of its charred arm indicated that Lua Gharne had lent her assistance.

Following a tense silence, Shinar spoke. Her assessment was unexpected.

“You’ve grown blunt, Enki.”

She wasn’t referring to the physical sharpness of his blade or the precision of his movements; that last strike was more sophisticated than anything he had previously achieved.

It was the result of his growing mastery over Will and the sword, inspired by the techniques Shinar herself had once shown him.

“You’ve grown blunt,” Shinar repeated.

“You achieved your goal of becoming a knight. If you wanted to continue your path, you should have ignored this. You are so dull now that you lack the edge to cut what truly matters.”

Enkrid flicked the gore from his sword and pushed his hair back with his free hand.

The monsters’ blood had coated his fingers. It was tacky and unpleasant.

He wondered if fairies had places to wash, or if they relied on the purity of lakes.

The blood smelled foul and felt worse. He simply wanted to settle this and clean himself.

“Shinar Kirheis.”

Enkrid addressed her directly.

Every person in the room waited for his next move.

Would he defend his skill against her insult?

Would he demand an explanation for her behavior?

As he often did, Enkrid took a path no one expected. Not even Bran or the watching fairies could have guessed his words.

“Why did you depart?”

That was the question he had come to ask, and so he asked it.

“……”

Shinar’s voice, usually as fluid as music, stopped.

The shadows and the silence seemed to merge. A heavy quiet filled the cavern.

Brisa lifted the glowing stone higher, casting more light across the scene.

Shinar’s face remained a mask, but Enkrid caught a flicker of surprise in her eyes. Finally, she spoke.

“It appears you haven’t listened to a single thing I’ve said.”

“I traveled here to ask why you left, because you failed to explain it in your letter.”

A trace of a smile touched Shinar’s lips. Then she offered an unexpected compliment.

“…You absolute madman.”

“Are you actually smiling?”

Arcoiris asked, stunned by her expression. He wasn’t the only one; Bran looked equally taken aback.

“So you still remember how to smile. You can stop this charade. Shinar, come back with us,” Bran urged.

Shinar let the smile fade and shook her head slowly.

“I am under a curse.”

If Esther, who had once struggled against Enkrid’s grip while trying to break her own hex, had been there, she likely would have scoffed.

“So turn back, Enki. You do not belong in this place.”

Enkrid peered into Shinar’s eyes. They were clouded, as if they had been filled with the ink of total hopelessness.

“I am asking you. Go back.”

It looked as though that despair might overflow, but it remained trapped within her.

“Then give me the reason. I won’t leave until I hear it.”

Another stubborn reply. Pell, listening, contemplated the futility of arguing with someone that persistent.

Lua Gharne merely thought, ‘That is typical Enkrid.’

Shinar studied the man before her. His blue eyes, his dark hair, and a body marked by the scars of a hundred battles.

Because of his features, one might miss the story of his life unless they saw those scars up close.

She had realized it once while watching him wash—those marks and gouges were his history.

To reach for the title of knight.

“A pointless ambition.”

He must have been ridiculed for it.

To defend those who could not defend themselves.

“Look after your own skin first.”

People surely laughed at his ideals.

Yet, the man who had persevered through that contempt was now standing before her. Shinar did not want to be the cause of his downfall.

She felt a sudden urge to confess everything—to rationalize, to convince him. To list every single factor.

The reason she had traveled this far.

Her long, painful path—she wanted to lay it all out, leaving nothing hidden.

She hadn’t planned on it. Everyone has secrets they prefer to keep buried.

But now, she felt she had to make him leave.

“I must become the demon’s bride. There is no other way.”

She tried again, but the man in front of her was the same stubborn fool who had clawed his way to knighthood despite his limitations.

Enkrid had no intention of backing down.

“Give me the reason.”

He insisted once more.

“If we are joined, you will be the sacrifice. That is why you cannot stay.”

Her voice cracked.

Enkrid’s expression remained stoic.

“Was becoming a demon’s bride truly your ambition?”

Is this what you truly desire? Shinar knew instinctively that this man would not leave until he reached the very end of this story.

Had she handled the departure poorly?

Or, in some dark corner of her heart… had she wanted this to happen?

Even while claiming she wanted him to leave her behind, had she been waiting for him to arrive?

Had her own frailty allowed things to reach this point?

‘Is it time to loathe my own spirit?’

Shinar’s eyes drifted shut. She felt a crushing weight pulling her down into her own consciousness.

Images she had fought to forget began to rise from the dark.

*** Thump— Just as every person has a beginning, Shinar had a childhood.

Thump— Her earliest memory was the rhythmic sound of a hammer.

And then.

“Shinar.”

Though her parents seemed distant due to their natural restraint, they were full of love.

“Are you still here? I thought we were going to weave flower crowns.”

A sister who cherished her.

Yes, there was a time when her life was like that.