Chapter 835

Chapter 835

Crush its skull? No, that was the sort of approach a brute like Rem would favor.
Ragna would likely just hold a blade to its throat to intimidate it, while Audin would probably start bellowing for everyone to offer mindless prayers to the Lord.
“Enki.”
What would my beloved do in this moment?
He was a man who never failed to discover a path forward. A person defined by a monumental sense of purpose and a spirit that radiated light.
He was someone who would dive headlong into the unknown just to claw out the finest possible outcome. I only reached this point because I stood by the side of such a man.
“I am capable of this as well.”
Shinar’s perception expanded in a heartbeat. Her cognition shifted into high gear as she pursued a solution.
If she continued to mirror the stance of the demon on the opposite side, the spirit beast’s psyche would shatter. It was already teetering on the edge of total collapse.
She stilled her racing thoughts and leaned in to whisper to the Salamander.
“Feel the hate. Let the anger take hold. It is alright to let your fury burn.”
The thermal parasite was suddenly struck dumb. Could it not comprehend what this eccentric fairy was attempting? If a demon could feel such bewilderment, perhaps that alone was a badge of merit.
Who could truly say.
The demon remained silent for a breath before speaking with even greater intensity.
“…Yes, hate. Loathe it all. Let it burst forth.”
From its perspective, the fairy was essentially assisting its cause. If that were the case, it simply needed to capitalize on her actions.
Shinar spoke as if she were in total agreement, only to pivot on the very last sentiment.
“And then, sever yourself. Do not allow that hatred to fester within your core.”
Those instructions struck home within the Salamander.
Shinar’s plan was straightforward. She had retrieved a practical concept from her observations of Enkrid and put it into practice.
The Wavebreaker Sword Style, as he described it, functioned on dual tracks of cognition. She adopted that logic: if making a choice was too agonizing, then why not bifurcate the very essence of the being?
In this realm, spirit beasts lacked physical density. Therefore, such a feat should be achievable. It was a perspective born of her fairy nature.
And if it failed?
She would cross that bridge when she came to it.
Whether this was a stroke of luck or destiny, Shinar chose to view it as the latter.
There was a deep resonance between her and the Salamander. Though the demon had provoked its mind, much like humans feel a natural kinship with those of their own kind, the Salamander’s spirit was more easily swayed by a fairy who radiated familiar energy.
Consequently, the spirit beast followed her lead.
A congested weight within the Salamander began to slough away. The creature condensed its malice into a solid orb, shaped it, and cast it out.
The observers watched as that mass took on a crude shape and lunged toward the companions below. With her mind still merged with the aerial fire, Shinar bore witness to the entire event.
She watched as the first distorted figure was obliterated by a single swing of an axe.
“Some insignificant, unholy scrap?”
Rem likely would have muttered something of that nature. He couldn’t be heard from this altitude, where the figures below appeared no larger than the flat of a hand.
The parasite of heat was stunned first by the fairy’s intervention, and then a second time by the prowess of the warriors below.
The manifestations it was projecting now were drawn directly from the Salamander’s own trauma.
In essence, these were the shadows of those who had once subjugated spirit beasts through raw power.
In that bygone era, the caliber of knights and sorcerers surpassed current standards, and the beasts themselves were more formidable.
There were creatures back then that had slaughtered knights and lost themselves to madness. The strength of the monsters of that age was beyond comparison.
Though the thermal parasite was not ancient, it possessed knowledge of that time.
The memories the Salamander was currently discharging were from that brutal period, yet they couldn’t even manage to delay the party; they simply dissolved. They were no match. They were cut down one after another with effortless strikes.
The demon did not succumb to panic or rage. It simply adjusted its calculations.
“Balrog’s fall wasn’t a matter of chance.”
It wasn’t labeled a demon without reason. Fury and frustration over a collapsed strategy could be dealt with later. Its current priority was an objective assessment of the situation. The demon faced the facts and processed the data sent back by the primary consciousness.
“There is nothing left to be done here.”
Once that conclusion was reached, the manifestation began to crumble and drift away like a piece of decaying fabric.
Even with the demon gone, these mortals would still be unable to aid the spirit beast.
Even if the malice had been purged and separated, where would the creature reside? Nowhere.
Thus, the spirit beast would continue its cycle of agony. Ultimately, it would degrade until it became a puppet for the demons. It would eventually crawl back and beg for the torment to cease. That was the inevitable conclusion. For that reason, the demon prepared to depart, a mocking laugh trailing in its wake—
The entity’s gaze locked with the Dragonkin, who had been observing the scene in silence. More accurately, they recognized one another’s presence.
The sole reason the Dragonkin had projected his mental form to this height was to fix that demon’s identity in his memory.
And if he perished in doing so?
So be it. Dragonkin typically held very little regard for their own longevity.
This made him an exceptionally dangerous foe to provoke.
To eliminate those who obstructed his mission, he belonged to a race that would gamble their very existence without hesitation.
“Subject recorded.”
The Dragonkin met that demonic smirk with a cold stare. There was no trace of amusement on his face. The demon felt an inexplicable shiver.

—

Shinar watched as the demon retreated. The dark vapor shattered into tiny specks. The influence that had been funneling the demon’s whispers into the Salamander evaporated.
Down below, Enkrid, Rem, and the rest were busy shattering and grinding down every falling orb of fire.
What was the next move, and how should they proceed?
Woodguards were composed of timber, and Dryads manifested their forms from foliage and moisture. Spirit beasts, meanwhile, were forged of pure flame. The Salamander, specifically, lacked any element of flesh or blood.
Because of this, it was nearly impossible for the beast to exist on the soil of this realm. This land was not a place meant for its kind.
Its only option was to endure through a forced slumber, clinging to the hope of one day returning to its point of origin.
“—Rest.”
The Salamander’s deep longing pierced through her.
Shinar sensed it. Simultaneously, she grasped that her role in this conflict wasn’t over.
If the strength of humanity was flexibility, and the dwarves excelled at crafting, then where Frokk focused on investigation and giants on the art of conflict, and beastmen on endurance, the Dragonkin’s specialty was maintaining the balance of peace.
And the unique gift of a fairy was distortion.
The talent for bending reality to avoid telling a falsehood was a fundamental trait of her race.
“That beast yearns to go home.”
“I cannot grant that wish at this moment.”
“Its desire to return isn’t merely longing; it is a search for sanctuary.”
“A sanctuary for a spirit beast need only be a realm of tranquility.”
Furthermore, a spirit beast never truly desired ruin or carnage.
Shinar whispered into the Salamander’s consciousness as it continued to peel away its own hatred.
She promised it a territory where it could wander freely.
She moved forward, driven by a mix of sudden inspiration and instinctive grace.
The Salamander had shifted into the form of a radiant lizard of embers.
A fairy’s gift was distortion.
If a creature that only found solace in its own world could be made to feel that same peace within the walls of the fairy city?
It couldn’t be achieved through simple tricks. One had to provide the being with a place of rest and sustenance.
What would such a creature consume? Typical fruit would never suffice.
A Dryad survived on morning dew throughout its existence. This would be a similar arrangement.
The Salamander fed on fire.
“But what is more basic than that?”
Shinar delved deeper into her fairy logic.
“Fairy energy.”
The source was identical—it would essentially consume magic. Let it dwell in a grove saturated with fairy energy and allow it to function by utilizing that power.
The idea struck her like a bolt of lightning, and she chased the thought.
“A realm constructed of nothing but fairy energy.”
It wasn’t its true home, but through distortion, she could fabricate an environment that mirrored its natural habitat.
Similar to how a sorceress like Esther might manifest a pocket dimension, it was a viable path.
The process?
It wasn’t overly complex. She was aware of several such locations within the fairy city already.
Fairies are immortal until they choose to accept their final rest, at which point they dissolve into pure fairy energy.
Their physical and mental essences disperse to nourish the entire city. This serves as the ultimate wellspring for the city known as Kirheis.
There is a specific site where they go to undergo this dissolution: The Forest of Repose. She simply had to replicate that concept.
“Built entirely of fairy energy.”
Within that space, she would form the foundation out of heat and embers.
“Alongside those who are kin to the flame.”
There were many who could maintain such a place. Even among the fairies, there were those who shared a bond with metal and fire. They were skilled in manipulating both fairy energy and heat. She drew her inspiration from them.
Long ago, due to the demons, they had despised the flame, but a fairy who had conquered that fear had turned fire into an ally.
“Follow me.”
With that, Shinar guided the spirit beast toward the fairy city.
To a fire lizard consumed by agony, no proposal could have been more enticing. Even if it had been a demonic bargain, the creature would have found it impossible to turn down.

—

Enkrid watched as the ball of fire ahead of him condensed and adopted a humanoid shape.
As he leveled Dawn Tempering at an angle, the blaze settled into a form with four limbs.
It stood as tall as Audin, wielding a blade of living fire in its right hand and a shield of concentrated heat in its left. This was the final manifestation of the Salamander’s malice.
The fire-forged aberration stepped forward. It gauged the gap and swung. It was a classic, vertical overhead strike intended to split the skull.
Crash!
The roar of the impact followed the movement. Streaks of fire blurred the field of vision.
Enkrid angled Dawn Tempering to intercept the flaming edge and retreated three steps. He moved just beyond the weapon’s reach, accounting for the extra length the clinging flames would provide.
The fiery sword then whipped horizontally across the space he had occupied a second before. A blade that had been descending vertically suddenly twisted with impossible fluidity to sweep across the ground.
Enkrid pivoted his frame and utilized Dawn Tempering like a buckler, parrying the incoming heat with a firm shove.
Sizzle.
Embers the size of pebbles sprayed in every direction.
Snap.
Enkrid’s mantle flared outward, catching the sparks before they could land.
“Since its body is made of fire…”
It could execute these flamboyant maneuvers regardless of whether a physical joint would have snapped.
It began with a vertical plunge and then simply distorted into a horizontal arc. He could replicate the motion if he chose.
“But why bother?”
Just then, its limbs bent backward. It resulted in a completely unpredictable strike. One couldn’t easily read the opponent’s technique through observation alone.
Why? Because it wasn’t bound by a standard physical frame.
It performed movements without hesitation that no human could ever mimic. It wasn’t just lethal because it was made of fire; it was a freakish entity with terrifying precision.
“If it has a non-human body, the logic will be the same.”
If it were a multi-legged beast rather than a biped, its movements would be even more alien.
Enkrid fell into a brief contemplation and then his eyes snapped open. For a fleeting moment, a blue radiance seemed to erupt from his pupils.
It was a glow born of the intense conviction and willpower surging through him. That was the process of sharpening the blade of one’s resolve.
“If the situation is grim, we can tag out.”
“Brother, let me show you a technique I’ve been perfecting.”
“If you aren’t going to strike, then get in there.”
Rem, Audin, and Ragna spoke in succession. Jaxon remained quiet. Instead of words, he equipped a weapon from his person. It appeared to be an enchanted object, radiating an unsettling aura.
These were claws that emitted a soft coldness despite the surrounding inferno. Claws are weapons modeled after a predator’s talons. Three frost-covered blades were secured to the backs of Jaxon’s hands.
Enkrid gave no verbal reply and instead lunged.
Boom!
Dawn Tempering collided with the sword of fire. The adversary raised its shield. A burst of flame erupted from the shield’s surface, aiming for his face.
Enkrid simply performed a tight spin. Jaxon’s gaze sharpened at the maneuver.
Years ago, he had instructed him on how to deflect a sudden, close-range lunge.
Contort the shoulder to minimize the target area while simultaneously closing the distance to counterattack.
“This is difficult.”
“If it were simple, I wouldn’t be teaching it to you.”
That was a long time ago, back when that man was acting as a squad leader.
Enkrid executed that ancient technique as naturally as he drew breath. It was a movement that looked like it had been practiced for a lifetime. It was clear evidence that he hadn’t slackened in his daily drills.
Jaxon felt a spark of pride.
Enkrid then gripped the base of the blade with his left hand while keeping his right on the hilt, and in a motion like rowing a small craft, he thrust the sword upward.
The style of the swing was a gift from Ragna, and the way he braced his left foot to harness the momentum of his entire body was a technique from Audin.
Finally, despite the opponent being a mass of flame, he slammed his forehead into the creature’s head—a move that was purely Rem’s influence.
Bang!
Fire erupted right against his brow.
“Hold firm, Ironclad. Hold firm, Ironclad. Hold firm, Ironclad.”
Enkrid chanted the mantra internally, pouring his will into it. With that headbutt, he shattered the entity’s fiery skull; then, as he slid his foot back to create an opening, he transitioned to a single-handed grip and delivered a lightning-fast slash. The sword, coming down with immense force, left a trail of blue light as it cleaved through the Salamander’s hate.
Thoom!
The air pressure gave way, and the severed fire scattered in a rain of sparks. The resulting explosion ignited several small fires in the area.
The fire cloud that had dominated the sky had vanished. As Enkrid ran a hand through his hair, charred fragments of hair fell away like soot. The Dragonkin, having just regained his composure, spoke from behind him.
“The fairy performed a remarkable feat.”
It pertained to his duties, which is why he acknowledged it.
At the same time, Shinar was opening her eyes. Enkrid met her gaze. Her eyes, usually the color of fresh leaves, now seemed tinged with an orange hue.
“Is the thing actually dead, though?”
Even Rem wasn’t certain. The heavy presence they had felt emanating from the fire cloud had disappeared the moment Enkrid made his move.
“I didn’t destroy it.”
Enkrid clarified. Right before he had delivered the final blow, he had caught Shinar’s voice.
“You can strike it now.”
That is what she had told him.
As the two finished their exchange, a tiny flame coalesced in the spot where Enkrid had struck, forming a lizard no larger than a hand.
The creature flicked a tongue made of fire and backed away. Then, it faded away like a trick of the light.
Enkrid couldn’t truly comprehend the nuances of a spirit beast’s communication or its intent, but there was a faint impression he received from the disappearing lizard.
“Thank you.”
That was the message he felt.