Chapter 834

Chapter 834

Enkrid supported Shinar with his left arm while his right hand clamped firmly onto the dragonkin’s neck. To a bystander, it appeared as though he were seconds away from snapping the man’s spine with a sharp twist. Given the terrifying physical power he possessed, the threat seemed entirely plausible.

“If you’re planning to finish him, make it quick.”

Rem offered the remark as a dry jest upon witnessing the scene.

“At least we can be grateful those other monstrosities have stopped appearing.”

Audin walked toward them, adding his own observation. Just as he noted, the torrential fire from above had thinned out and ceased, and no new twisted creatures were manifesting. In fact, those that had already arrived were falling apart, their physical forms dissolving into nothingness. The weapons made of fire—the lances, poles, and nets—had vanished as well. All that remained was a single pillar of flame, stretched thin like liquid glass, connecting the fiery heavens to the earth.

“Should I slice it now?”

Ragna spoke up abruptly. His hand rested on the hilt of Sunrise, and he seemed prepared to hack through the phenomenon the second he received permission.

What?

It was clear he was referring to that descending tether of fire. Is it even possible to cut through a flame? For someone like Ragna, that question didn’t matter. If he were commanded to do it, he would find a way to make the blade bite. He gave Enkrid the impression of being a sword that had taken human form.

“She will perish if you do.”

Ragna didn’t bother to ask who she meant. To him, the legendary Salamander and the unconscious dragonkin were irrelevant. Esther understood this, which was why her explanation was blunt. The one who would die was the fairy.

Enkrid stared at the distant cord of fire. He thought he might be imagining it, but there seemed to be a faint green glimmer, like new grass, pulsing within the heat.

“What is our move?”

Enkrid lacked knowledge of the internal world of spells and couldn’t determine Shinar’s condition. This situation surpassed his practical experience. So, he deferred to those who knew better. It was a lesson he had internalized a long time ago. He remembered a day of heavy snowfall when he had traveled to challenge the Gilpin Guild.

“If the leader is at a loss, then delegate the command.”

Ragna, the occasional prodigy who could see through to the heart of any matter, had been the one to say it. Jaxon had guided him, but Ragna provided the clarity: if you lack the means, order someone who has them. Enkrid followed that logic now.

Esther provided the answer to his unspoken question:

“If things take a turn for the worse, we can attempt an approach in spirit form, but for the moment—”

“For the moment?”

“We observe and wait.”

Esther possessed great wisdom. She trusted that Shinar would not have acted without a plan.

“Was the interference of the dragonkin an unplanned factor?”

Physical harm could not be inflicted through spirit form alone, and Shinar’s resolve was not easily broken. Esther knew this because she was close to her. Shinar’s spirit was upright and incredibly resilient. This fairy’s mental landscape was as vast and complex as that of any high-level mage. It was a combination of her heritage as a fairy and her own unique nature.

Because they knew her strength, they knew how to act. Sometimes, the best course of action is patience. Enkrid gave a silent nod.

The intense heat from the fire scorched the atmosphere and baked the ground until it hissed, creating what looked like rivers of molten rock ahead. Stones were melting and fusing into new shapes. This was no place for a casual observer, but they didn’t have the luxury of choice.

A mass of fire, streaked with dark soot, tumbled from the celestial cord and began to take shape on the scorched earth. This creature was fundamentally different from the previous aberrations.

“It reeks of bloodlust. Pure malice.”

Enkrid could feel the waves of emotion coming off the creature. It felt as though it had armored itself in every dark human feeling. It possessed six limbs and two tails, with a head composed of nothing but distorted fire—no sensory organs at all.

“The aura is heavy…”

It was more imposing than many monsters that led entire packs. It looked like something birthed directly from the Demonic Realm.

With a thunderous crash, it leaped forward, tearing up the earth and sending a spray of soil and fire into the sky.

“This one is mine!”

Rem sprinted forward, his axe already spinning in a lethal arc.

“What are you, some kind of fire hound?”

He roared the question as he charged without a shred of doubt. However, that malice-filled creature wasn’t alone. More shapes began to drip from the fire-cord, birthing more monsters. Each one that emerged had sharper features and a more defined, hateful presence.

The next entity to form was humanoid. It had four limbs and brandished a long, staff-like blade. Though it was made of flickering fire, it moved with an eerie, fluid grace. It was a sight that could only be manifested through the power of a spell.

“Mine.”

Ragna moved to meet it. As more creatures rose behind the first, he engaged them one by one.

“Stay focused.”

Enkrid also moved into the fray. He gently placed the fairy and the dragonkin on the ground and charged ahead. The azure glow of Dawn flashed, its sharp edge ready to face the heat. Jaxon remained behind, standing guard over the two unconscious figures.

—

Shinar felt her consciousness take flight. Her mind expanded, racing toward the sky. The fiery clouds felt close enough to touch as the world below shrank away. Her spirit brushed against an entity and recoiled.

She was suddenly flooded by a chaotic mess of wills and emotions. It was like being trapped in a tiny room with a dozen people all screaming different things at once. Shinar remained composed, reaching out to catch individual cries to understand them.

—I despise it.

She grasped a fragment of the feeling.

—I hate this.

What?

—This location.

What do you mean?

—Every action I have been forced to take here.

The entire being was a knot of pure resentment. Shinar’s spirit ascended further. Just as she felt she might drift away entirely, she caught a glimpse of her own body below. Then, her spirit surged forward, transcending the limits of time and space. Her heightened fairy senses began to sift through the memories the Salamander shared with her.

Shinar stabilized her spirit. Whose past was she seeing? It belonged to the spirit beast. There was no scenery, only a vast expanse of scorched, black sand. As she moved through this wasteland, a massive pit appeared, and a voice echoed from within.

“Come here.”

The Salamander, driven by simple curiosity, followed the sound. The voice and the hand that beckoned it seemed to overflow with kindness. The spirit beast knew nothing of deception. As it neared the opening, a dark hand shot out and grabbed its leg.

“I have you.”

The entity pinned him down and pulled him into the darkness. He spat fire in an attempt to escape, but he was outmatched by a series of underhanded tricks. It was a forced subjugation through a fraudulent pact. Shinar witnessed exactly how the spirit beast had been brought to this world.

They had burned everything to fuel the summons. Animals, humans—all were reduced to ash as offerings. The Demon Sanctuary Church had acted on a supposed divine mandate, using practitioners of spells as the conduit.

“By betraying the natural order.”

Who was the true mastermind? In Shinar’s vision, a dark silhouette appeared. It was a figure wrapped in layers of black veils, its true form hidden from sight.

“A demon.”

An inhabitant of the Demonic Realm had used a fake contract to ensnare a spirit beast from another world and drag it across the veil. The Demon Sanctuary Church had simply been used as pawns and sacrifices in the process.

—I hate it.

The Salamander’s fury resonated with her. Its suffering began to bleed into her own heart. The very air of this world was a toxin to the beast. Being here was like drowning in a sea of poison. This was why it couldn’t keep its mind steady, why it was easily manipulated by a demon, and why it was forced to obey the sorcerer holding the bridge.

If it had never been taken—if it had stayed in its peaceful home—this nightmare would never have happened. The beast had been kidnapped and jailed. For a being like this, this world was a more torturous cell than any human dungeon. Shinar reached deeper into the beast’s heart.

“Was this coincidence?”

Or was it fate? Shinar realized that very few beings could communicate with a spirit beast on this level.

“I am one of the few.”

She was a fairy of the city of Kirheis; the most skilled of her kind at manipulating fairy energy; a fairy who had a complicated history with demons. There was no one else like her. And if not her, who else could successfully “assimilate” with the Salamander to see what lay inside? Why had she made such a reckless choice? They could have simply tried to force the beast back into a slumber.

Yet, she had taken the risk, merged her spirit, read its history, and felt its pain. As for her motivation—

“I honestly don’t know.”

Perhaps it was similar to the protective instinct Enkrid always showed her, or perhaps it was because she knew the trauma of being hunted by demons herself. Regardless, a spirit beast was not a foreign concept to a fairy. There were Woodguards, Wing Fairies, and Dryas. Dryas lived on dew; Woodguards were sustained by the earth’s energy. They were beings of pure energy, proof that otherworldly forces had touched the fairy lineage.

The similarity she felt toward this mass of fire was not accidental. It was simply that this creature used flame as its source instead of wood or grass. Shinar felt the same pity for it that Enkrid might feel for a suffering child.

Memories and sensations crashed together. Shinar focused her will and spoke:

“Begone. You are a hollow, mindless thing.”

In this realm, words were carried by the strength of one’s will, and she directed hers at the intruder. The parasite, predictably, paid her no mind. He simply smirked and continued to lean toward the Salamander. He whispered into its ear, encouraging it: urging it to vent its hatred, to unleash its power without restraint.

“You.”

Another presence forced its way into the conversation. A radiant golden light manifested into the form of a golden-haired young man. It was the dragonkin, Temares.

“You have obstructed my purpose.”

The dragonkin spoke with a cold, mechanical precision. To a dragonkin, duty is the very essence of life. It is a sacred, inviolable thing. He was present because he felt an entity interfering with that duty. Dragonkin were often bored and rarely moved to emotion, so he wasn’t “angry” in the human sense. However, because their lives were so empty, they reacted intensely to anything that touched upon their duties.

Simply put, a dragonkin is a being with an infinite supply of the currency known as time. To avoid losing their sense of self in the void of eternity, they cling fiercely to their tasks. Interfering with a dragonkin is a grave mistake.

However, the heat-parasite had no experience with their kind and didn’t understand the danger. Furthermore, his origins weren’t even from the Demonic Realm. He saw the dragonkin but dismissed him.

Temares watched his opponent with an unblinking gaze. Lacking emotional swings, a dragonkin operates by a set of rigid internal laws.

“I will provide you a single opportunity to justify your actions. Speak.”

In this spirit form, a dragonkin had no physical tricks. He simply made a demand. The parasite, carrying the will of its master, sneered:

*Even as a dragonkin, you are alone. What can you possibly achieve? Your efforts are pathetic.*

“What is it I should say?”

“The reason for your interference.”

“And if I told you, would your mind even be able to process it?”

The demon responded with the typical arrogance of his kind.

“The only thing that matters is that you will all burn to death here. That is the end.”

At those words, the dragonkin re-evaluated the entity before him.

“A total obstruction of duty.”

A dragonkin’s boredom is like a massive pile of gold with no purpose. He decided to spend that wealth now. If something blocks his path—even if it means the destruction of the world—he will eliminate the obstacle. By any method necessary. That is the resolve of his race.

The parasite, his smile widening, continued his toxic whispering to the Salamander. He acted as if they were powerless to stop him. Within the clouds of fire, he stood over the spirit of the Salamander, which was huddled on the ground. The parasite had taken the form of his previous host—the warrior with the massive sword. He looked like a giant hovering over a wounded animal.

Shinar didn’t know how to engage in spiritual combat. She realized she couldn’t physically stop the parasite’s influence. Instead, she decided to offer her own counter-whisper. From the other side of the Salamander, she spoke softly:

“You can rest now. That thing has no power over you.”

“If you break your bond, your life has no purpose! Let the hate out! Explode! Do not hold back!”

Conflicting voices bombarded the spirit beast. The Salamander, shaped like a lizard made of fire, spat embers onto the ground. It looked as though it were coughing up lifeblood.

“The Salamander’s mind is going to shatter at this rate.”

Even in this form, Shinar’s intuition was sharp. she saw the disaster looming. The dragonkin did not interfere yet; he simply watched the one who had gotten in his way. He was currently formulating a new objective based on his internal code. No one could guess what he was thinking.

Even a dragonkin was limited in what he could do here. In reality, the parasite was also limited; despite his threats, he couldn’t physically bind Shinar or Temares. He could only corrupt the Salamander. If the spirit of fire lost its sanity, he would win. Shinar saw through the plan.

“What would you do, Enki?”

Shinar reached out to her fiancé in her mind and heard his phantom response.

“I’d knock some sense into it and tell it to wake up.”