Chapter 628

Chapter 628

The flow of seconds slowed to a crawl. The scope of Enkrid’s awareness expanded.
He moved past mere vision—listening with his ears, scenting with his nostrils, and interpreting the world through his skin.
Because his physical form had already engaged its reflexes, calculating the precise instant of impact was trivial for Enkrid.
He grasped the momentum and path of the incoming shaft and reached a conclusion.
Raising his arm directly into the projectile’s course, he closed his fingers.
*Thwip. Hummm.*
The arrow settled firmly in his palm.
Its intended destination had been unmistakable—just beneath the shoulder joint.
“They weren’t shooting to kill.”
The entire sequence concluded just moments after the air began to whistle. Enkrid stood motionless, his right arm held high, the shaft and fletching of the arrow vibrating within his grasp.
He could feel the intent radiating from the weapon—yet he remained ignorant of its origin. Based on the rules of trajectory, it had flown from straight ahead. His logic accepted this—but his instincts flatly denied it.
The discrepancy between objective fact and subjective feeling was… captivating.
“I can’t sense a thing.”
Pell remarked.
Enkrid surveyed the area, the arrow still gripped in his hand. His eyes found nothing out of the ordinary.
As they remained watchful—
*Piiing.*
A trio of additional arrows surged forward.
The archer was so perfectly coordinated that the resonance of the three shafts cutting the air merged into a solitary note.
That was merely the audio. Within his heightened state of perception, Enkrid identified them instantly—three separate threats.
He had secured one—why not three?
Releasing the initial arrow, he snatched two of the newcomers from the air with both hands and launched a kick at the final one.
*Crack!*
The kicked projectile was knocked violently off course.
Plucking arrows from the sky was a feat—but kicking one? That pushed the boundaries of the possible.
Only a knight of true caliber could execute such a maneuver.
“Chances are it’s an enchantment,”
Pell noted from his position, fingers hovering over his sword’s crossguard. He suggested their inability to find the shooters was due to sorcery.
Enkrid gave a silent nod, continuing his patient wait for a reaction.
They weren’t being greeted with open arms; that much was obvious.
Should they take an aggressive stance?
Would any movement provoke a fresh barrage of arrows?
Perhaps if he neutralized every shot, they would finally engage in dialogue?
“Quite the energetic welcome, isn’t it, you pointed-eared nuisances?”
Lua Gharne barked, seeing no reason for courtesy toward people who had just attempted to pin them.
“…Entry is forbidden to those from the outside.”
A voice drifted from beyond the verdant haze.
Even as he heard it, Enkrid was unable to lock onto its source. That same sensory mismatch persisted.
He wasn’t without options—he could always start felling the trees standing behind the fog.
“That would certainly provoke them.”
Fairies—even the few Enkrid had encountered long ago—were known for their hatred of tree-felling.
It wasn’t that they would sacrifice themselves for every stray branch or tuft of grass. Rather, their protection of the woods was an act of defending their own hearth.
Like any civilization, they focused on survival and growth. And the woods were the perfect habitat for fairies: their diet consisted of foliage, greenery, dew, and fruit. The forest’s vitality was their life force.
This was the reason they revered a colossal tree at the heart of their settlement—naming it the World Tree.
In some instances, it held genuine arcane or spiritual significance. In others, it was merely an exceptionally large tree.
Regardless, Lua Gharne had just delivered a stinging remark, and a typical fairy would have responded with hostility. Instead, the voice simply reiterated:
“This location is not for outsiders.”
“I understand.”
Enkrid replied with a calm indifference.
“If I were to yell ‘Shinar, come out and play,’ would she appear?”
Probably not. So, should he storm forward and cause a scene?
He was still considering his path. Holding two arrows in his hand served as a sufficient warning, depending on the audience.
“We recognize your prowess. However, even if you slay us, the seal will not break.”
A different fairy voice answered. Logical, steady, and clinical—even when facing a threat, fairies spoke with cold reason. That icy detachment reminded Enkrid of Shinar.
Even though they were speaking, it felt like conversing with the wind. The voice was audible—but the speaker’s position? Still masked.
Having mastered the sensory arts, Enkrid could distinguish a northern breeze by the snap of a flag. He had even saturated his very being with Will. Yet, the speaker remained a ghost.
He wasn’t here to bully them—or to stir up trouble. Though if negotiations failed, a few strikes of the blade might be required.
If they were the ones mistreating Shinar? Then he would have to practice a bit of conversational swordsmanship.
He had employed that tactic before—on fiery spirits and holy knights. It wasn’t a “friendly” way to talk.
Once those reflections faded, Enkrid finally spoke up.
“Shinar Kirheis.”
He spoke the name of the fairy he had met before—declaring his intent.
Still, no physical presence could be detected in the brush.
“I am here to find her.”
He followed up, allowing them a moment to digest the information.
“…Who are you?”
At last, a response that sounded somewhat human.
Enkrid assumed he had little to offer in terms of a name. Surely these fairies wouldn’t recognize him.
But that wasn’t entirely accurate. Fairies might reside behind hidden veils, but they weren’t entirely severed from the rest of the world.
They engaged in commerce. They communicated.
Pell, who had grown up in a remote herding community, understood how even the most isolated groups knew the names that carried weight.
If a man like Enkrid gained notoriety—there was no keeping it a secret.
He also reckoned that announcing his identity before mentioning the Border Guard would leave a better taste in their mouths.
To be honest? He just felt like speaking up first.
Pell stepped out. Before Enkrid could utter a word, Pell raised his voice.
“Lord of Border Guard, Protector of the Frontier, Knight of the Iron Wall, Slayer of Demons, Heartbreaker of Lad—ah, scratch that last bit. The Mad Knight Enkrid!”
Clear and echoing—his voice cut through the green vapor.
Perhaps he was still feeling the sting of their recent training sessions. He had slipped in a little insult. But it proved effective.
“Knight of the Iron Wall?”
A different fairy voice spoke, not the one from before.
“Guardian of the Demonic Territories?”
Another chimed in.
Good grief, the titles were starting to pile up.
Enkrid nearly protested, but held his tongue. In the end, you don’t earn a reputation with words—you do it with deeds.
The fairies continued to speak with their quiet, steady tones, but now their words held a ghost of feeling: respect, astonishment, as subtle as a leaf’s tremor. Only a master of perception would even notice it.
“Heartbreaker? Perhaps that explains why Shinar came back on her own…”
A quiet mumble drifted from the background, but Enkrid paid it no mind.
At the very least, they weren’t holding Shinar in a cell.
“May I enter, then?”
Enkrid inquired.
Fairies only accepted guests who had been invited—that was their custom.
“If you truly are the Knight of the Iron Wall.”
The voice came back.
They didn’t accept his identity without proof. More queries and responses were exchanged.
But in truth—the act of catching and kicking arrows had likely provided all the evidence they needed.
If a conflict erupted, the mist wouldn’t protect them. Even the hidden fairies understood that.
To put it simply—someone with that level of power had no need to pretend to be someone else.
“It is a privilege, Demon Slayer.”
A resonant male fairy voice answered.
“I have never witnessed anyone intercept arrows in such a fashion. Truly incredible, human warrior. And to kick one away…”
This time, a female fairy spoke. It was difficult to determine her years by her voice alone.
Their voices became more distinct. The haze began to dissolve and drift away.
Only then did he realize—the fog had been perfectly motionless the whole time.
“A spell to cloud perception.”
He understood it only once it started to shift.
He filed the feeling away in his internal catalog. It wasn’t a conscious effort—more of a reflex, a byproduct of his sensory training.
As the vapor cleared, blurred silhouettes took shape.
The mist didn’t vanish entirely—but as the sun sank and the shadows grew long, five fairies became clear.
Many people picture fairies as small and weak. The truth was… different.
Three of them were of small stature—not like dwarves, but shorter than the average human adult. More akin to young teenagers. Their frames appeared delicate—yet they bore longbows that exceeded their own height.
Despite their fragile looks, one could see the defined musculature in their arms. These were not children.
The three marksmen were female—the ones who had targeted him.
The remaining pair were male. One was quite large, while the other possessed hair as white as snow.
Enkrid’s attention settled on the white-haired man. He lingered a fraction of a second too long on the hair—and the man picked up on it.
“Are you intrigued? Fairies turn gray as the years pass.”
“It’s my first time seeing an elder.”
“Most go back to their ancestral lands to face the end. So yes, it is uncommon. I offer my apologies for the arrows. They were intended as a caution. We did not anticipate you catching them.”
Enkrid gave a nod. Just as the fairy claimed, none of the shafts had been aimed at vital organs.
The subsequent three had been a test—of his prowess.
So, it wasn’t a major grievance.
He was here to see Shinar. And now, he was standing before someone who might have the details.
He looked at the white-haired fairy. He seemed to be the leader.
Shinar had mentioned once that fairies had deep respect for age. The more years one had, the more wisdom they possessed—and thus their opinions carried more weight.
She’d made a point of that several times, usually right after informing him of her own age.
“Come. Walk with us.”
The elder made the invitation.
Enkrid nodded. Pell and Lua Gharne followed in his wake.
“Demon Slayer.”
The large male fairy spoke up.
His sharp jawline and piercing eyes gave him a confrontational aura—but a tiny spark of admiration was visible in his look.
You had to be looking for it to see it.
They had been raised from their earliest days to suppress their feelings. For them, this was the equivalent of a human shouting in joy.
The eyes of the other fairies held similar looks—though three of them had a strange sort of longing in their gaze.
It was barely there. Enkrid only sensed it because he had spent so much time around Shinar and had sharpened his awareness.
The fact that they recognized his name—and looked at him in that way—was certainly out of the ordinary.
The large fairy spoke with a slow, deliberate cadence, picking each word. His voice was rigid and cool, but carefully weighted.
“It is an honor to meet you.”
It wasn’t the words themselves, but the genuine intent behind them.
Yes—he was sincere. Enkrid sensed it in his tone and gave a nod.
This was the same fairy who had called it an “honor” earlier from within the mist.
“If the opportunity arises later… might we test our steel?”
He added.
The same level tone. Enkrid was becoming accustomed to it.
“A sparring match?”
“Yes.”
“Whenever you like.”
As they talked, the white-haired elder stepped in.
“Do you believe now is the appropriate time, Zero?”
Still using a neutral voice.
“My apologies, Elder.”
Zero lowered his head.
If they were human, you might suspect he wasn’t truly remorseful. The other three fairies stayed quiet once they were in the open.
Evidently, they weren’t fond of small talk.
Enkrid had nothing further to say.
“Quite a bellicose fairy.”
Pell remarked with a dry wit. A biting bit of sarcasm. No one could tell if he was being serious or not.
The fairy stared at Pell. Pell matched his gaze.
A momentary flicker of tension—but the fairy looked away, and the atmosphere relaxed.
“Pathetic.”
Pell whispered.
In fairness, Pell was no stranger to starting a fight. It was just that Rem usually took center stage.
“I need to keep my focus.”
Enkrid noted to himself, using Pell’s behavior as a cautionary tale.
“Follow me.”
The elder turned around and began to lead.
He stepped into the mist, making almost no noise. Soft footfalls—the inherent poise of the fairies. They truly were natural-born stalkers.
As they moved deeper into the green haze, the view grew worse. It was an arcane shield that stopped even light from passing through.
Thanks to his time with Esther, Enkrid had learned enough about magic to recognize that much.
Eventually, the ground dipped a bit—and they came upon a strange tunnel.
Foliage curved around in a flawless circle, creating a long corridor. The floor and the ceiling were crafted entirely from leaves.
How they had built this—Enkrid couldn’t even guess.
He walked through, losing all track of time.
Nothing but leaves in every direction, the smell of greenery and blossoms, like a dream sequence.
It didn’t even feel like magic was involved.
Then, all of a sudden—he blinked, and the tunnel was gone.
Stretched out before him was the fairy city.
“Welcome to our home,”
the white-haired elder said.
There were no high stone walls or massive fortresses—but something truly shocking appeared at the first glance.
*Puff.*
A giant figure constructed entirely of timber lifted a branch-like limb—and took a pull from a cigarette.
“What’s the matter? Never seen a tree have a smoke before?”
The wooden titan asked.
Enkrid felt the sudden impulse to pinch his own arm to see if he was awake.