Chapter 638 - No Simple Dreams
Enkrid nodded calmly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
The fairy group, including Bran, who had become mere spectators, blinked in surprise.
What did she just say?
"I want to eat an apple while looking at the blue sky and clouds. I want to steal coins from our friend Krais's pocket and tease him, and I also want to share more things with that kid, Seiki." "Yes."
Enkrid responded without interrupting, his reply fitting perfectly as a suitable interjection. After that, Sinar added a few more words.
Her wishes were as simple as they could be.
Anyone would call them modest dreams.
And all of those were contained within the time spent with Enkrid.
The demon had taken away things like stability, peace, joy, and hope, and those things were refilled in Shinar as she learned how to control her energy.
So, her wishes would surely belong to the life she had lived like Igniculus, a life like a spark.
The fairy's spark is an experience of concentrated life.
She had lived all of that by the side of the man before her.
"You shouldn't have come back." Bran spoke.
From the voice of the ancient tree giant burning at the beginning of the year, there was an intense, restrained sense of regret—something too deep for a fairy to express.
"You should have stayed there." Bran repeated.
"You could have."
Arcoyris also spoke.
Brisa's face darkened.
The luminous stone she was holding dropped a little lower.
She was so focused on the conversation that she almost forgot she was holding it up.
"Is it necessary to sacrifice yourself for a delay? Is that what happens to everyone?" Zero spoke from a unique perspective.
He knew the people who had died for the city.
So, it was a natural thing for him to say.
Behind his words, there was also a sense of not wanting others to sacrifice.
'Strong.'
Enkrid thought to himself.
He felt he had an inkling of what Zero wanted.
He did not want Shinar's protection.
If there was a demon, he would face it.
If this was the end, then so be it, but until then, he would struggle.
It was a way of thinking unlike that of a fairy.
After all, he was born during the time when the demon ravaged the fairies, not as a child of trees and flowers, but as a fighter.
Perhaps this was inevitable.
Shinar did not only live as a cursed child either.
She had risked everything to save the city of Kiraheis.
The fairies who had come here knew that.
Only those who knew that stayed in the city.
And they also knew they were hostages.
If they fled, the demon would place all the blame on Shinar.
Yes, they knew.
Shinar knew that too.
If she left, the demon would slowly kill each fairy remaining in the city one by one.
That would never change.
It would never change as long as he existed.
The demon would use the fairies as he had used Shinar before—wooing them, taking them, draining their energy, and devouring them.
In the end, he would show Shinar the sin of ignoring him.
All of this was the demon's plan.
Each plan represented one chain.
A chain that would not loosen, no matter how the skin tore or how the blood ran from her ankle.
Enkrid relaxed his arms and corrected his posture.
Then, he listened carefully, not missing a single word or phrase that came from Shinar's mouth.
You could tell just by looking at his attitude how serious he was.
As he listened quietly, he could hear the meaning hidden within her words.
'I want to stand by your side. I want to stay with the madmen knights for the remainder of my life, just watching, listening, and enjoying.' Her wish was mixed in with her words.
Some might call it a modest dream, but there is no such thing as a modest dream.
Each dream is the most precious thing to the person dreaming.
To Enkrid, it was so.
And so, Shinar's dream was precious too.
If he couldn't even save a child who dreamed of baking bread, what was the point of being a knight?
What use was the sword?
If he couldn't protect those standing by his side, what would he protect?
In the same sense, if the fairy wished and hoped, then he would make it so.
That was why he had come.
To be honest, asking about why she had left was an excuse.
He had come to get involved in whatever that "duty" was.
But he wouldn't say it aloud.
And now, Enkrid recalled the knight who had died protecting her city.
Yes, in the Gray Forest, he had lost Ohara.
Was it now Shinar's turn to be lost here?
It was a question he had asked before and received an answer to.
The answer to that question had not changed.
He wouldn't leave it like that.
Shinar spoke again.
No one could know, but the demon had been whispering in Sinar's ear for a long time.
You are a cursed fairy, and everything you have belongs to me, the demon.
The demon also urged her.
"If you want to live, bring someone like yourself and offer them."
For a long time, ever since Shinar had believed that the death of all the other fairies around her was her fault, the memories surged in her mind.
Pain and joy conflicted, tormenting her.
"If it weren't for you, would everyone have lived happily?" Naira, her sister, asked her in a nightmare.
In truth, it was just an accident.
The demon had planned it, and the young, intoxicated fairies were not to blame.
She knew that well in her head.
But her heart spoke differently. "Run away. This is not your duty." Bran spoke.
She had people who had supported her.
There were things she had fought to protect against the demon's whispers.
She wanted to protect them.
Therefore, her own personal desires, her small dreams, were futile and meaningless.
She felt she had no right to fulfill them.
"The blue-nosed deer should never live with the other deer."
Shinar tried to forcefully hold onto the swaying fragment of a boat, attempting to stop it.
Enkrid faced the situation head-on.
There were things he did not know, but based on what he did know, he made deductions.
The results of those inferences.
He thought he understood Shinar's intention.
Perhaps it would not be much different from the other fairies who had come along.
She probably wanted to die with the demon.
They had probably decided that it was better for Shinar to die than endure the torment.
Shinar had likely intended to give them some leeway but would die in the end.
Rather than wearing a flower crown, she wanted to wear one made of thorns.
Perhaps she was waiting for the moment when the demon weakened or had made some other preparation.
After all, she wasn't foolish.
She must have prepared for something.
Enkrid understood the results of her reasoning but didn't acknowledge it.
Because knowing it wouldn't change anything.
That was why he could say what he said.
"I don't care."
The words were crafted with will.
Luagarne slammed her palm down.
"Whatever." Fel added.
"I knew I couldn't talk him out of it."
At those words, the fragment of the boat, which had been swaying in the storm, let out a piercing scream, as if it would shatter.
Shinar knew she would regret it.
But even knowing that, she couldn't help herself.
In the end, the fragment of the boat broke and scattered into pieces of wood.
But so what?
If there's no boat, swim.
If you have no legs, crawl with your arms.
Enkrid spoke from his own life.
He had dared to challenge that life because it had inspired him.
She didn't dare say anything back.
Sinar's mouth opened.
In a calm and ordinary tone, she spoke plainly.
"If you save me, you must take responsibility for all the fairies. That's my dowry."
When she said that, Enkrid, who had maintained a respectful attitude up until then, suddenly became serious.
His tone even seemed rude.
"I can't do that."
"Can't you?"
Shinar asked again.
"I can't take the dowry."
The labyrinth itself was dark, even the light from the glowing stone had faded.
Enkrid seemed to carry light within himself.
Whether that came from his attitude or the words he crafted, it was hard to say, but it simply felt that way.
"Then, Enki, will you save me?" Shinar asked again.
"I will."
Enkrid nodded.
He had been listening intently, so no one noticed that he hadn't even sheathed his sword.
His gaze, holding the sword, shifted behind Sinar.
The figure that had been lurking behind the bone chair walked forward, trudging.
The demon that had once tormented Sinar had discarded its vocal cords and hidden itself in the darkness.
It sank into silence, but it wasn't because it wanted to hide.
"The Demon One-Killer."
What Shinar knew was just the name.
The demon that once wielded fire no longer existed.
The demon, who had used its will as a hammer and time as an anvil, had refined its form.
The demon, shedding its flesh, had split itself into two entities: one for combat, and one for production.
The one for combat, whose sole purpose was to annihilate enemies, was the One-Killer.
Enkrid sensed a clear will from the creature before him.
It wasn't particularly violent or ferocious.
Instead, it felt filled with purity.
Why was that?
'Pure murderous intent.'
Could it be that the creature had turned all its will into pure murderous intent?
It was a single-minded will to kill anyone who dared approach.
Its eye sockets were hollow, its mouth and nose nonexistent, with only a faint orange light flowing from the holes where the eyes should have been.
The light didn't just emanate from the eyes.
The creature's skin appeared metallic, with irregular lines running across it, etched like symbols, glowing with light.
It stood on two legs like a human, but with long blades attached to its arms—perhaps like holding swords in both hands.
The light emanating from it felt hot.
As the creature moved forward, it illuminated the surroundings, but it wasn't blinding.
Enkrid recognized who the opponent was.
The enemy of all races, the opposite of intellect, the guardian of evil and injustice.
A demon.
'Is its basic form similar to Heartless?'
In the Demon World, there exist beings that, after offering their own hearts to the Devourer, transform into monsters.
These beings are called Heartless.
They fight with blades instead of arms, and since they have no hearts, they cannot die unless their necks are severed.
'The neck.'
Could it be a weak point?
Hard to say.
There's not enough information to gather just from its appearance.
The One-Killer moved.
The orange light sliced through the darkness.
The movement of the light seemed to confuse the vision.
However, Enkrid was not distracted, as he didn't rely solely on his eyes.
'Its feet.'
Enkrid saw the demon firmly planting its feet on the ground.
The force of its step traveled up from its ankles to its knees.
It was a motion akin to that of a swordsman who had trained for many years.
Thud.
The creature slammed its foot into the ground, then plunged its sword downward.
Enkrid responded by raising his sword in a vertical strike to meet it.
If he poured all his will into the attack, he couldn't block the second strike.
He couldn't strike the demon's neck with the first attack either.
Calculating quickly, he adjusted the force of his strike, pouring only half of his will into the sword.
The two blades met in mid-air with a resounding clash.
Bang!
It felt as if a lightning bolt had struck right beside them.
The One-Killer's frame was slender, but its strength was anything but.
The force of the demon's strike was equal to that of Enkrid's own sword.
It felt as though the demon wasn't even using its full strength.
Enkrid, feeling the force of the blade, stepped back three paces to dissipate it.
The demon did the same, retreating with a soft step, then raising the blade on its left arm vertically.
Was it waiting for the next attack?
If so, Enkrid felt a bit embarrassed.
He had gotten a little too excited and was taking a moment to catch his breath.
But it was a moment he couldn't afford to let pass.
"Don't interfere!" Enkrid shouted, addressing Fel and Luagarne.
"This one is mine." He added quickly.
The One-Killer had no mouth, so it couldn't smile, but it almost seemed like it was smiling at that moment.
Of course, there was no such expression on the creature's face.
It was just an illusion, perhaps because Enkrid saw himself in the demon.
'A demon.'
This was the first time he had faced a demon in such a direct confrontation.
The Balrog fragment was killed by Oara, and Count Molsan was just a pawn of the real thing.
He had never truly encountered a demon, not in the way he faced it now.
So.
'If I defeat this one, would it be safe to call myself a true demon slayer?' That would be the case if he surpassed this demon.
The creature's light-filled eyes fixed on Enkrid.
Its murderous intent focused solely on him.
It felt as if a phantom blade was coming to carve through his abdomen.
Of course, that wouldn't happen.
'False strike.'
Just by looking at it, the false strike technique, a reinterpretation of the Valen-style mercenary swordplay, activated.
In other words, it was a formidable foe.
The strongest opponent he had faced so far.
How could he not enjoy this?
"I'm going crazy."
Ignoring the phantom blade with his will of rejection, Enkrid muttered.
Everyone was watching closely, waiting for the next move.
Naturally, Enkrid's words cut through the silence.
"It's too fun."
He murmured further.
Those who heard it doubted their ears.
Was he really saying that while facing a demon?
Those who knew him would nod, but for those who didn't, it was a shocking revelation.
"Is he insane?"
Bran murmured in response.
Enkrid, however, believed that he was the only one sane among the Madmen Knights.
***
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Many thanks to my friend Tulips for proofreading the chapter :)
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