Chapter 644

Chapter 644

‘The exhaustion was overwhelming.’ He had spent forty-eight hours pushed to the brink, draining both his physical stamina and mental fortitude in the heat of combat. He was far from his peak—completely disconnected from his usual state of being. ‘Had I been in my normal form, I could have parried that without effort.’ It wasn’t a matter of being sloppy. He wasn’t searching for excuses to soothe his ego. It was a deeply ingrained practice—his habitual post-battle analysis. What would be the proper response if this happened again? Better yet, how could he ensure such a predicament never occurred in the first place? The second line of questioning was a hallmark of the Lua Gharne training philosophy. Not every Frokk adhered to that specific regimen, making it a unique signature of Lua Gharne’s influence. It was a tactical framework and a warrior’s mindset developed not by a whole people, but by a lone individual. In this instance, the foundation of his thought-partitioning skill had been bolstered—one of those mental nodes was now saturated with the tactical logic of Lua Gharne. Enkrid pushed the concept even further. ‘The fight begins with the ground you claim.’ A patch of shade away from the sun. A position where the light doesn’t blind. A stance that utilizes the breeze. Even the most infinitesimal benefit held weight. He didn’t need to dwell on it long. The solution surfaced almost instantly. If the latter was pure martial intuition, the former was a reflection of Enkrid’s natural inclination to weaponize logic and time to find a way forward. Following a brief window of introspection, he arrived at a definitive point. ‘There is still much progress to be made for both the frame and the spirit.’ When Will is fully channeled through the anatomy, the physical body densifies. The act of giving that phenomenon a name is what birthed Endure. ‘They simply labeled a natural progression.’ As one directs Will and withstands trauma and agony, the external layer begins to take on the qualities of a giant—becoming an iron hide. ‘The body is fortified by Will.’ The pioneer who first conceptualized Endure or Iron Hide likely sought to mimic the resilient skin of the giants. Once the exterior was toughened, they surely moved on to tempering the internal systems, the musculature, and the connective tissues. But was Will the only requirement? Hardly. Before any metaphysical reinforcement can take hold, the underlying foundation must be robust. One requires a resilient body and a steadfast mind as a starting point. And that foundation was built through relentless, repetitive labor. Even at this moment, Enkrid’s capabilities far exceeded those of a standard knight. However, if ambition were a blaze, Enkrid’s was a wildfire capable of turning mountain ranges to ash. Consequently, his ultimate finding was remarkably simple. ‘Training.’ A single word. That was all that remained. Now more than ever, he felt a desperate urge to immerse himself in practice and self-improvement. He had just ended a demon—he was entitled to a moment of pride. Yet, he felt no such thing. This was the internal sanctuary, the realm of visions. The Ferryman sensed the pulse of Enkrid’s soul. The undulating waters of the river were still. The Ferryman, who had been watching in silence, finally broke the quiet. “Even at a time like this, your mind is on drills and discipline?” “…Ah.” It was only then that Enkrid looked up, appearing as if he had just realized the Ferryman was there. Though he didn’t react with any particular shock. “Do not feign ignorance, human. You knew I was here.” “…Aa.” Enkrid gave a slight, acknowledging nod. “I am well aware that you noticed me long ago and chose to ignore me, lost in your own contemplations. Do you truly believe I am unable to perceive your thoughts in this place?” “Ahh.” Lacking a verbal defense, Enkrid offered a heavy breath of concession. He wasn’t trying to be dismissive. Fortunately, the Ferryman showed no signs of irritation or anger. “Indeed, you are that brand of obsessive. I suppose it falls to me to offer a serious caution. The strike that landed on you was saturated with the demon’s intent.” “…I understand.” He nodded, even if the full weight of the words escaped him. Under different circumstances, the Ferryman would have stopped there. No further details. “If you submit to that intent… well, we would simply be watching the emergence of a fresh demon.” Yet, for some reason, the Ferryman was being unusually informative, prompting Enkrid to inquire, “Is it… a malady? A curse?” “A curse? You imagine such a petty thing could take hold of you?” The Ferryman’s gaze ignited. A spark of violet light shimmered within his pupils. “There is no hex in all of creation that would dare to claim dominion over you.” From the Ferryman’s stubborn insistence, Enkrid grasped several underlying facts. A genuine curse had indeed accompanied the demon’s blow—but the Ferryman had already neutralized it. “Is this something I should thank you for?” “It is unnecessary.” Both of them functioned on a level beyond conventional communication. Their minds bypassed fluff, delivering conclusions through condensed reasoning, tossing brief sentences like stones into a lake. Enkrid studied the Ferryman’s features. Despite the coarse, ashen skin, the Ferryman possessed piercing eyes and a prominent, sharp nose. He bore a strange resemblance to that warrior with the shield Enkrid had encountered in his dreams. If he possessed golden hair and eyes of blue… the likeness would be undeniable. They could be brothers. “Have you always looked this way?” “Have you only just decided to look at my face?” “I can see it now, that is all.” Did this imply Enkrid was moving closer to the Ferryman’s level of existence? Or was this a deliberate choice by the Ferryman? Enkrid couldn’t be sure. It felt like a random occurrence. Or perhaps the Ferryman had briefly dropped his mask. Regardless, asking would not lead to an answer. “…What was your reason for assisting me?” He asked because all signs pointed to this being the same presence—the one who spoke of traveling in the direction away from the flames. “Watching you get stuck in a repetitive ‘today’ wouldn’t offer much in the way of amusement.” The Ferryman answered. A ghost of a grin touched his mouth. It looked like a smile, but it gave his visage a monstrous quality. Following that distorted expression, the Ferryman added: “If you wish to survive, then struggle with everything you have. You don’t want to remain trapped in this specific today, do you? I didn’t bother to close the path. I left it accessible on purpose. I thought the outcome might be interesting.” Behind the Ferryman’s silhouette, something moved closer like drifting smoke. His speech was laced with sharp edges. His animosity was plain to see. As Enkrid watched without speaking, the Ferryman concluded. “If it consumes you even once, there is no coming back.” Enkrid found the meaning elusive. It was as if he were being given the end of a story he hadn’t yet started. He blinked. And the flowing water, the Ferryman, and the glowing lantern vanished. In their stead stood the demon. No, it wasn’t a demon yet. He witnessed the entity before it had earned that title. Though no one explained it, he understood—this was the creature itself. The being that had consumed the lifeblood and spirit of the fairies. He had been born a fairy. One who craved more—not merely to survive on essence, but to achieve total transcendence. A fairy intoxicated by greed, willing to transform into a monster if that was the price of power. Agony warped into blades, stabbing without pause. Who could comprehend that burning voracity and drive if not Enkrid? “Witness me!” The memory forced its way in. The fairy’s intent drifted in like a fog and began to saturate him. “Witness my existence!” The catalyst for this fairy’s descent into demonhood—what was the root? The intent was beginning to pollute him. Shifting his inner light, making things hazy. This was the demon’s goal. However, Enkrid merely glanced through the images it tried to project. It wasn’t a struggle. Tuning out the Ferryman, staying focused on his training, brushing off the tragic biography of a demon or a fairy—it was all the same task. The demon became desperate. It had to seduce its host. “No! Incorporate my will! I will bestow upon you strength you cannot dream of. I will assist you in expanding your Will!” Enkrid had never for a moment believed his Will was insufficient. “I will temper your frame! I will allow you to exceed the constraints of mortal meat!” Audin had always maintained: everything aside from nourishment, hydration, and training was a lie. You could inflate a body with alchemical aids, but it would collapse the moment the substances faded. Hollow strength. When it came to physical conditioning and raw muscle, Audin allowed no shortcuts. Even the Mad Platoon held that in high regard. Even Rem, when it came to Enkrid’s bodily development, had left everything in Audin’s hands. “You construct today on top of today. That is the essence of training.” That was Audin’s creed. And Enkrid had internalized it. That was why he carried stones, absorbed strikes, and practiced Endure until his skin was like steel. Thus, the demon’s promises carried no value. The entity’s tone changed. A shadow made of soot, dripping with the sweat of panic, spoke rapidly within the theater of his mind. “I will give you a charisma that can ensnare anyone, regardless of their logic.” That was something he truly had no use for. “…Dammit.” The demon uttered its own name a thousand times, but Enkrid let the sound wash over him without taking root. To truly perceive, one must know the art of true indifference. With cold detachment, Enkrid snuffed out the presence of the fairy-turned-demon. The fairy culture had a custom of leaving demons nameless, so as not to grant them power. Their stance toward these monsters was born from that tradition. But Enkrid took it a step further. Total and absolute neglect. The demon attempted to scream its identity into the fabric of reality—but Enkrid was not the type of man who could be swayed by such noise. “You insane human…” That was its final wail. Yet even that was barely a blip to Enkrid. He felt a radiance—the polar opposite of the dark—seeping in, and he opened his eyes. “I feel restored.” He woke from the vision. His muscles were still stiff, not unlike a long trek through a wasteland, and his throat felt parched. He pushed himself up and spoke. A voice answered him. “What do you mean by ‘restored’?” It was Lua Gharne. His sight was still swimming. He blinked several times until the world came into focus. “I was dreaming. I can’t recall the details.” If the fallen demon could hear that, it would likely spend eternity cursing Enkrid’s ancestors. “You’re discussing dreams at a time like this?” This voice belonged to Pell. Enkrid stared up at a ceiling he didn’t recognize. He seemed to be in a residence within the fairy grove. The air was heavy with the scent of greenery. The roof above was crafted from intertwined roots. A pungent aroma hit his nostrils. “The champion has returned to us.” It was Bran. Finally, he surveyed his surroundings. Scores of steady, silent eyes were fixed upon him. The chamber felt cramped because so many were gathered there. Fairies. The room was overflowing with fairies—all standing in silence. “What… is everyone doing here?” Enkrid asked, feeling a bit caught off guard. It looked like a scene from an unsettling dream. “In the event of a crisis, we assembled only those fairies who were prepared to sacrifice their own essence to keep you alive. It’s a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?” The reply came from Shinar. She was perched in a seat at the head of the bed, her emerald eyes as steady as ever. Her voice was controlled but held a trace of warmth. Enkrid was accustomed to that. “You’ve been out for ten days,” Pell noted. “…That explains why I feel so light.” “You realize you were on the verge of death, don’t you?” “No.” Enkrid had discarded the demon’s final moments—not just the dialogue, but the entire event had been purged from his mind. Then he was told the specifics of his state. His eyes had turned a deep crimson, weeping tears of blood. He had suffered nosebleeds. The vessels across his skin had bulged and pulsed. He had been consumed by a fever so intense his lips had split. He could feel the dry skin on his lips even now. Yet, despite that description, he didn’t feel terribly thirsty. “Shinar never left your side, ensuring you stayed hydrated for days,” Bran remarked. Shinar, standing right there, slowly tipped water from a wooden container into her mouth, then leaned in and gave a faint, knowing smile. That smile hinted at the method she had used to give him water. She swallowed the liquid. In reality, it had been done through a tube fashioned from a leaf, but Enkrid had no way of knowing that. Dozens of fairies remained in the room. He even recognized the one who had been his guide earlier—though the name had slipped his mind. Too much had occurred in a single day. Ending the demon had used up every ounce of his energy. There was no room left for keeping track of names. Even the layout of the labyrinth was beginning to blur. “Hmm… are you Jorman?” Enkrid addressed a fairy he suspected was a leader of the group. “Who is that? My name is Ermen.” To a fairy, having their name forgotten after such a short time might normally be a slight, but he showed no trace of being insulted. He simply corrected Enkrid with a gentle kindness. The mood in the room made the situation clear. Gaining a general sense of things, Enkrid saw that his health was actually quite good. Shinar stood up. As she rose, the surrounding fairies stepped aside in a synchronized fashion. Shinar Kirheis. Known as the Golden Witch within the Border Guard, but here, she was a fairy of royal stature. She stepped back a few paces to better align with Enkrid’s gaze, then dropped to one knee and bowed her head. Then she spoke. “I speak on behalf of the entire fairy race. To you, Enkrid of the Border Guard, I extend our gratitude. And in the presence of all the fairy leaders, your Frokk comrades, and the seed alike, I declare this…” “Who are you calling a seed?” Pell whispered, though no one else made a sound. Perhaps they knew what she intended to say. Or maybe they had foreseen it. The entire room fell into a deep silence. Enkrid, uncertain of what was happening, remained quiet under the weight of the moment. Shinar smiled. She wasn’t a witch in this moment—she was a golden divinity. Her expression was luminous. Her eyes were perfectly balanced. Her nose was straight. Her pink lips parted. “Until the day you find your eternal rest… I shall engage in combat with you, whenever you desire.” Enkrid sensed that she had strangely paused and changed her phrasing in the middle of the sentence—but he didn’t dwell on it. What she had just recited was a variation of the fairy matrimonial oath. The original version was: “Until eternal rest, I shall remain by your side.” She had rewritten it for him.