Chapter 649

Chapter 649

Aitri’s voice resonated from within the conjured hallucination. “Are you being for real right now?” The query was brief but carried significant weight. It was a sentiment the genuine Aitri would never have expressed aloud. ‘Even if I momentarily switched to a different blade…’ In reality, she would have dismissed the slight, only to obsessively train in private until she surpassed whatever had sparked her envy. Consequently, witnessing a novel form of swordsmanship would likely serve as a powerful motivation for her. That was his assumption. “The blade is named Penna. In the common tongue of the continent, it translates to feather—or perhaps leaf.” As Lephratio spoke, her attention shifted toward Enkrid’s hip. More specifically, she looked at the weapon known as Burnt Spark. “That one is finished. Hand it over.” Whether it was perfect timing or meticulous foresight was unclear, though it felt like the latter. Enkrid hadn’t merely damaged the Silverblade; he had utterly destroyed it. Furthermore, Burnt Spark was riddled with deep fractures. During the heat of battle, while he was awakening to and executing the Wavebreaker style, he hadn’t noticed the toll on his equipment. Now that the adrenaline had faded, he realized he didn’t have a single functional weapon left. The onslaught from the orange-hued demon had been devastating. The strikes had fallen with the speed of a camera flash and the raw power of a lightning strike. By toggling between accelerated perception and split-thought processing, he had used the Wavebreaker techniques to intercept the blows. In the process, he had sacrificed the Silverblade and had been forced to use Burnt Spark as a makeshift shield. Now, he stood empty-handed. ‘And Fortune was lost when I exited the labyrinth.’ That blade had incinerated itself to preserve Shinar’s life, reduced to a charred, useless husk of carbon. He hadn’t witnessed the final moments of the sword, having collapsed into unconsciousness immediately after the decisive clash. Only in this moment of stillness did he realize just how thin the margin of survival had been. Enkrid silently unfastened Burnt Spark and passed it to Lephratio. She took the ruined metal and set it aside with care. He would discover later that Burnt Spark had also been a product of Lephratio’s craftsmanship in the past. “What do you think of it?” Lephratio’s tone remained neutral, yet Enkrid could hear a faint thread of eagerness. Penna—the Feather. The moniker was perfect. The hilt molded to his palm as if it had been grown there. The blade possessed a graceful curve and an edge honed to a terrifying degree of sharpness. Lephratio pulled a single hair from her head and let it drift onto the edge. With a silent shick, the strand parted effortlessly. “Regarding raw cutting potential, this is the peak of my career as a smith,” she noted, transitioning from the tongue of the fairies to the common language. It was no boast; the edge was sharper than anything he had ever wielded. “It requires no sharpening. The internal energy maintains the edge. The material is Moonlight Silver—true silver refined by etching it with concentrated lunar energy.” Silver touched by the moon was more than just a rare find; it was the stuff of myths, a material that existed primarily in folklore. “It’s… incredible. Isn’t a weapon of this caliber considered a state treasure even here?” Enkrid spoke with genuine wonder. The blade was relatively short—less than two spans long—meaning it couldn’t serve as a primary longsword. However, its utility in close quarters or as a secondary tool was unmatched. “It is a treasure. That is precisely why I am gifting it to you.” Her tone suggested the question was redundant. Lephratio wasn’t the only one giving. While the fairy clans claimed to be preoccupied with their upcoming relocation, they had actually been busy crafting tributes for the man who had become their savior. “You actually gave him Penna? I recall you saying you’d be buried with that blade.” As the exchange concluded, a Druitess entered the warm chamber. She moved with a supernatural grace, her feet barely making contact with the floor, reminiscent of leaves caught in a gentle breeze. She was the same woman Enkrid had noticed earlier in the clearing. She offered a bright smile, her emerald eyes glowing with a beauty that felt alien compared to Shinar’s, yet equally captivating. “I gave it to him because I didn’t die.” Lephratio’s logic was simple. She had fully expected to perish within the demonic corruption, but she had endured. Unlike the newcomer, Lephratio showed no sign of sentimentality. She seemed genuinely content that Enkrid was now the one holding the blade. “Our clan has a gift for you as well.” The Druitess spoke. Enkrid recalled Shinar mentioning that the Druitess clans emphasized the collective “we” over the individual “I.” This communal nature was shared by the dust-spreading pixies, whereas groups like the Woodguards were more solitary. Such were the nuances of their culture, though the specific details mattered little to him now. “Follow me.” The Druitess grasped Enkrid’s hand and led him away. Lua Gharne followed close behind, her expression a mix of amusement and a playful pout. “Your charm over others is quite something.” “I’ve even heard a rumor that you aren’t just winning hearts, but actively kidnapping brides.” That remark came from Pell. Enkrid shifted his gaze toward the shepherd. Pell met his eyes without blinking. Using his sharpened intuition, Enkrid searched for the source of the lie. He noticed Pell’s eyes flicker momentarily to the side. The puzzle pieces fell into place. The “bride-stealing” rumor was a fabrication, and Pell was the architect. “Stop spreading ridiculous stories.” Enkrid spoke with a firm gravity, unknowingly lacing his words with a hint of his Will. “…How did you catch that?” Pell didn’t bother denying it. He hadn’t started the rumor out of malice. Shepherds were naturally inclined toward tall tales and trickery; there was a reason the story of the wolf-crying boy existed in human lore. Until recently, he’d had no audience to deceive, but his inherent nature was beginning to resurface. It was harmless fun to him, and the fairies were so gullible that they provided the perfect entertainment. “You’re transparent.” As Enkrid looked at Pell, a new realization dawned on him—one that stood apart from the knightly code he had been developing. He didn’t voice it yet, but he felt he had grasped the end of a very important thread. “Knowing a strike is coming doesn’t matter if you lack the speed to stop it,” Pell challenged. “We can settle that in a duel later,” Enkrid replied before turning back to the Druitess. They navigated a series of winding corridors until they reached a small, bubbling brook. Finding a running stream inside a city was a surreal sight. Across the water lay a lush, verdant grove that had been hidden from view. Despite the winter season, the microclimate here was incredibly warm. Insects and butterflies danced through the air. “This is intended to be worn beneath your plate.” The Druitess gestured, and two smaller attendants brought forward large, bundled leaves. When opened, they revealed the gift. The Druitess clan created textiles by weaving the fibers of sacred trees. These threads were marinated in the resin of Woodguards for days before being cured under the moonlight. The process took years of repetition to produce a single spool of what they called Fairy Thread. The gift was a garment woven from this legendary material, designed as an arming doublet to be worn under armor. ‘Kraiss would lose his mind if he saw this.’ A commoner couldn’t buy a glimpse of this for a mountain of gold. Just as humans have different grades of silk, Fairy Thread varied in quality. This was the most durable grade available. It was a sleeveless vest protecting the torso. A simple touch revealed its incredible strength; it felt as resilient as high-grade steel mail. “It resists flame, never corrodes, and acts as a conduit for energy. Most malevolent spirits will flee just by sensing its presence.” Fairy energy was the essence of life, making it the natural bane of the undead and demons. This was why fairies could live on the fringes of civilization without being overrun by monsters. The realization finally hit Enkrid. ‘Their energy alone acts as a natural ward.’ However, they were now facing threats that didn’t care about natural wards. ‘If I cannot protect my own life—’ Then I have to rely on the protection provided by others. That was the cold truth. The logic was sound. If the fairy leader, Ermen, made every decision in a vacuum, he would face internal rebellion. That would turn the migration into a disaster. Trying to convince every stubborn individual would take far too long. Their indecisiveness had already nearly led to their extinction. But forcing the issue would cause a different kind of friction. What could unify them? He understood the play now. ‘Was this Shinar’s idea?’ Or perhaps Ermen’s? By showering Enkrid with gifts and turning him into an icon, they had made him a living symbol for the people. Some fairies had even begun sculpting small effigies of him. The children carried these carvings like protective charms. It was a temporary obsession, but it served a vital purpose. For the survival of the race, this was the logical path. ‘They cannot put their faith in a stranger.’ They needed a figurehead they could adore. By turning him into a hero, they could stifle any dissent regarding the migration. It was a preemptive strike against internal conflict. Humans utilize fire. Frokk observe it. Giants fight it. Dwarves shape it. Beastkin flee from it. Dragons pay it no mind. And fairies— ‘They douse the embers before the flame even catches.’ It was an old saying about problem-solving. Fairies are perpetual planners. That foresight is why they survived on the edge of the demonic realm for so long. It wasn’t just their magical energy; it was their social engineering. That strategy remained in play. Even if Enkrid hadn’t helped them choose a new home, they would have found a way to tether him to their cause. It was a beautifully executed trap. Fairies do not tell lies, but they are masters of omitting the truth. It was ironic—given his recent breakthroughs—but he felt this social maneuvering was connected to the insights he had just gained. He didn’t have the full picture yet, but he didn’t resent the manipulation; he respected the skill. He also realized Ermen’s true goal. It wasn’t about glory; it was about the bare minimum of survival. In that regard, Ermen was a leader of high caliber. When Enkrid returned to his quarters, the “high-caliber” Ermen was already waiting for him. “The preparations for the move are almost complete. Will you travel with the main group?” “I should head out first. If the local peasants see walking trees approaching, they might mistake you for a monster invasion.” Ermen had explained the nature of the fairy city’s movement. Enkrid understood now that it wasn’t just a caravan of wagons. “Ah, I suppose humans are prone to such fears.” Enkrid considered mentioning that some wouldn’t just be scared, they’d be hostile, but he held his tongue. It wasn’t the time. Looking at Ermen’s composed face, he asked: “Whose idea was the hero-worship?” He didn’t mince words. Ermen didn’t flinch. “The concept was mine. Shinar was the one who executed it.” Enkrid realized Ermen was far more pragmatic than he let on. Simultaneously, Ermen realized Enkrid was more than just a man with a sword. This gave the fairy leader peace of mind. It was better to link their destiny to a man like this than a simple brute. Shinar had mentioned there was a man like that in the Border Guard—someone who had accidentally killed a foreign knight because he got lost. To a fairy, such chaos was terrifying. Then again, humans didn’t really understand the Mad Knight Squad either. But coexistence didn’t require total understanding, only acceptance. That was Ermen’s philosophy. “Very well.” The move would span several months, with various groups leaving in stages. ‘Splitting the groups is smarter in case of an ambush.’ There would be natural predators along the path, but the fairies were capable enough to defend themselves. ‘The local lords are going to be in shock when they see this.’ Regardless, Enkrid decided to leave ahead of the first wave. “You are my betrothed. Are you really leaving without leaving a child behind?” Shinar’s parting words were characteristically blunt. “Is this a game to you?” Enkrid asked. Her devotion to her savior was limitless. She nodded with a grin. “A very entertaining one.” As he made his final preparations, the entire city seemed to stop to watch him leave. People pressed letters into his hands. Others offered meticulously cleaned fruit. “How dare you all flirt with my future husband?” Shinar teased the crowd in her monotone voice, though there was no real bite to her words. The fairies ignored her completely. “The one who keeps him in the end is the real winner, Kirheis!” One fairy shouted a playful challenge. Enkrid listened to the banter for a moment before deciding it was beyond his comprehension. “I’ll see you soon.” Shinar would be in the next group, so the separation would be brief. Along with Lua Gharne and Pell, the fairy named Zero joined them as a scout and guide. Zero’s growth had been exponential. Specifically, his ability to weaponize his emotions was superior to any other fairy. When his passions flared, he channeled that energy into his strikes rather than losing his focus. It was a rare talent. Enkrid’s mentorship had clearly been the catalyst. As they walked, Enkrid began to discuss his recent realizations with Lua Gharne. To a bystander, it was just talk to pass the time, but the subject matter was dense. “I understand,” Lua Gharne said, nodding. “You are seeking something specific.” The Frokk was sharp. “Correct. A Frokk with the ability to measure potential must have an internal system for categorization, right? Tell me I’m right.” The Frokk could perceive boundaries. From boundaries, they understood limits, and from limits, they understood the core of a thing. He had guessed correctly. Their evaluation system was highly structured. “I want you to teach it to me.” Enkrid requested. Simply forming his own knightly framework wasn’t enough. Lua Gharne was struck once more by the man’s nature. His bottomless desire for growth was his defining trait. Had he been born a Frokk, he would have walked into a furnace if he thought he could learn the secret of fire. ‘If he were one of us…’ As long as he didn’t reach his “absolute end,” he would never stop. He would continue to break himself down to rebuild, just as he was doing now. “I will,” Lua Gharne replied. She had no reason to withhold the knowledge. This man had already dismantled one of her fundamental truths. “Limits are meant to be surpassed.” She was the living proof. And as she listened to the logic of the system Enkrid was building, she realized what he was doing. He was finding the path to break the unbreakable.