A Knight Who Eternally Regresses Chapter 637: Winter and Spring

When a child sees sothing fascinating, they fall into it easily. Especially if it’s sothing they’ve always preferred since they were young.

Shinar had enjoyed watching refined iron from an early age. More precisely, she enjoyed watching iron transform as it was refined. The entire process where fla t tal always sparked her curiosity.

As a child, Shinar was utterly enthralled by fire, as if intoxicated by it.

“What’s so great about that? Let’s go see the flowers or visit Bran.”

In contrast, her sister was more ordinary. She liked to look at flowers like other children and would lie down in the grass until its scent clung to her skin. For fairies, having the scent of grass settle into their skin was an important part of life.

To lie between the grasses, enjoy the fragrance of flowers, and watch the fluttering wings of bees and butterflies carrying nectar. And during those monts, to spend ti with a fairy who would beco both friend and teacher, learning wisdom from them—that was a fairy’s childhood.

Fairy society did not favor rigid apprenticeship. Instead, they chose a thod that took longer but allowed one to awaken slowly. Within lives of play and joy, they would learn their roles and duties. Because their lifespan differed from humans, such thods had naturally developed.

Later, by learning emotional restraint, they would beco adults.

“You really find that fun?”

Her sister pouted as she asked. She was still a young fairy, so unrestrained emotion lingered in her tone.

“If you watch long enough, it feels like that could beco anything.”

Shinar replied. And no sooner had she finished speaking than the hamr moved.

Daa-ang.

The hamr struck the tal. In the fairy city, there were specific clans that handled tal. The Naidels, the ones who forged the Spring Blades.

Before being recognized as masters, they would go through a training process, crafting single-edged swords or various tools and weapons. What Shinar was watching now was one such apprentice in the middle of that training.

“If you get too close, sparks will fly.”

One of the apprentices said.

His na was Aden. Shinar’s first love.

Looking back, she wasn’t sure if she liked Aden or the fire he handled. But as a child, Shinar believed she liked Aden. It was a ti when she didn’t yet know how to hide emotions.

“Then just make sure they don’t fly.”

“Fire doesn’t move the way I want it to.”

“That’s why you’re still an apprentice.”

“That sounds like a very provocative statent.”

Aden was about the sa age as Shinar, though it was certain she had been born earlier.

But unlike humans, fairies didn’t consider a few years’ difference as grounds to call soone brother or sister. Still, Aden’s manner of speaking was more mature than Shinar’s.

Was that maturity because he handled fire? Or was it innate? It wasn’t sothing she was particularly curious about.

Shinar was born into the royal family, but in fairy society, a king rely represented or protected the other fairies. They weren’t beings who could do whatever they pleased.

In a way, it was a position with duties and responsibilities but no benefits. There was no hierarchy laden with authority. Still, all fairies knew she was of royal blood.

“Lady Kirheis. Why don’t you go get the flower’s permission and make a crown from their bodies and enjoy the scent of grass?”

That was why Aden would joke like this. Shinar rely snorted in response.

A young fairy rolling around among the flowers and grass was akin to a human splashing in warm water. The difference was that fairies enjoyed it far more.

In that sense, Shinar was a very peculiar fairy. Even Aden, who had made fire his craft, would spend his breaks watching swarms of bees among the grass and flowers. But she preferred watching fire to frolicking in the grass.

“What’s so fun about that?”

Her sister grumbled. It was a childish ti. Her sister soon left to go about her own business. She didn’t pressure Shinar. As was typical in fairy society, they believed everyone would co to understand the aning of their life in ti.

Shinar gave her a vague wave, then asked Aden:

“Do you know what Igniculus ans?”

Daa-ang! Daa-ang!

Several clanging strikes passed before Aden, sweating in front of the furnace, responded.

“Do you think there’s a fairy who doesn’t?”

Fairies couldn't refine tal using moonlight alone.

Naturally, they had forges and had to handle fire. And they needed fuel to burn.

The Woodguards gathered the fuel. The sap and firewood from the tree fairies could keep the flas burning for months without going out—it was one of the mysteries of alchemy.

And Igniculus.

A word seemingly tied to the forge and the smithing clan.

In the language of the continent, it ant a spark or flash.

Fairies live for long spans of ti, typically flowing through life like a calm lody without any dramatic falls.

Igniculus, when translated literally, referred to a period of blazing like fire. For one fairy, that could be love. For another, it might be the drive toward a goal.

Fairies were creatures of leisure, but in that mont, they would blaze and burn. During such monts, they would grow and change.

So fairies described it as a period of transformation, like iron in the forge struck by a hamr.

Before learning emotional restraint—Shinar had liked that word.

Igniculus, the spark.

That was why she later chose Needle, not Naidel, as the na for the sword she would receive. A sword that handled sparks.

Yes, that’s how it had been.

One day, it happened. To the girl who was enthralled by fire, sothing approached, claiming it would be her secret friend.

At first, it approached as warmth.

Because no one knew of it, no one could prepare. And because no one prepared, no one could react.

Fwoosh.

“Wanna play with ?”

The fla spoke.

Orange fla blazed in the air. To anyone, it looked like a fire spirit.

So fairies could commune with spirits or ghosts. Shinar had been enamored with fla since she was young. So this wasn’t considered strange. Everyone thought that way.

“That’s amazing.”

After learning emotional restraint, her sister’s tone had beco more composed. The sa was true for Shinar.

“Yeah. I think so too.”

When she revealed the fla’s presence, her sister responded that way. The warmth beca a friend. And one day, that friend beca a raging blaze.

The warmth that approached had transford into a disaster called fire.

It burned everything. Her people, her friends, even the city where she was born and raised.

Grahhhhh—!

As the Woodguards burned to death, the acrid stench rose and stabbed her nose. It was a sll Shinar would never forget for the rest of her life. To fairies, that sll was no different from the scent of burning flesh. When Dryads burned, the sll of burning grass filled the air.

The gates of hell opened in the fairy city.

“Aden.”

“I’ll stop it.”

At so point, Aden had beco a full-fledged smith. He charged forward with a sword.

The demon cloaked in fire defeated and killed him.

Before any blisters could form, the fla blackened his entire body.

A fairy’s death ca with the sll of grass, flowers, and trees burning all at once.

“Custos Akitos Responsum.”

A fairy skilled in summoning spirits stepped forward to quell the flas—but it was futile.

Water fell like rain to smother the fire, but it wouldn’t be extinguished. Tragedy and despair settled over the fairy city.

Shinar watched as the flas consud the city.

Five Woodguards burned. Bran was burned halfway but barely survived.

A giant made of fire lifted its head. It was five tis larger than a regular fairy and looked around at those blocking its path.

“Because you played with , I’ll leave now. From now on, I’ll build a ho here. Children of wood and flowers, let’s live together forever. I’m what you call a demon.”

Said the demon, feigning affection and warmth. It literally nested in a corner of the city.

There was no doubt who the fairy it called ‘friend’ was.

“A curse.”

Even if fairies learn emotional restraint and know no lies, it doesn’t an their hearts are pure or strong. So weak-hearted, broken fairies resented Shinar.

They had lost their children, their friends, their lovers. Shinar couldn’t bla them. No, at that ti, she didn’t even think to bla them.

She couldn’t understand most of what was happening.

Why? Why was this happening?

“It’s not your fault.”

Her father cut the thought off firmly.

“Yes. This is just our responsibility.”

Her mother said.

No—it had happened because she was intoxicated by her own fla.

There was a ti her heart broke from the guilt. There was a ti when she lost her voice and didn’t speak for years.

Kirheis.

Didn’t that an protector when translated?

Shinar’s parents had a duty to drive the demon out of the city. Her father wielded a bow. Her mother wielded a sword. That year, her mother mastered elental power and beca a fairy knight.

“Daughter. It’s not your fault.”

Her mother repeated her usual words and drew her sword.

Where had the demon that burned everything co from? No one knew.

But it felt like it had co for Shinar. Everyone said so, and Shinar herself felt it too—so it must have been true.

“Cursed fairy.”

“Get out.”

Once a fairy’s heart broke, they didn’t stop blaming her.

And her father and mother, who went to kill the demon, never returned.

“Shinar, you don’t have to live like this. Okay? None of this is your fault.”

Her sister told her to cast off the burden of duty. Then she took up the sword and learned to control elental energy.

Amid their calm and peaceful lives, a spark flew.

A mont of brilliance like a flash—Igniculus.

Her sister’s na was Nyra Kirheis. She sparked the ember known as talent.

Thus, her sister beca a fairy knight and went to slay the demon—and failed.

Shinar had no talent for spirit resonance. All that remained was to train her body.

Back then, even her skill with elental energy was laughably weak.

“It’s because of you. Everything is your fault.”

The resentnt of a fragile fairy pierced her skin and branded itself into her organs.

Her father, her mother, and her sister all died. The demon created a labyrinth, and at the entrance of the labyrinth, her sister’s sword was planted.

Naidel.

The Spring Blade that Nyra had wielded. Her sister had truly been a fairy of spring—like the embodint of flowers and the scent of grass. Shinar recovered Nyra’s sword.

“No duty binds you. Go out and live your life.”

“If only you leave, it's all over.”

“Don’t do sothing so foolish, Shinar.”

“Let’s bind ourselves in the chains of duty.”

“Bla won’t change anything. What matters is what cos next.”

“The demon demanded a bride.”

“Shinar?”

“They said they wanted another fairy.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

Many voices had spoken. Shinar had no reply. She simply reminded herself of her duty. In between all that, there was no space for personal dreams, hopes, or wishes.

“Slay the demon.”

The next fairy to beco a knight was Arzilla. She led the remaining forces into the city to fight the demon. Shinar was one of them. She entered the labyrinth and saw the demon.

“So it’s you.”

Those were the demon’s words upon seeing her. A monster with reason—what a terrifying existence that was.

“If you run, I’ll hunt the others down one by one, torture them to death, and send them to you as gifts. I’ll pluck out their eyes, rip off their nails, peel their skin, and kill them. Then I’ll giftwrap the remains and deliver them to you. So go on and run. The thrill of imagining that mont—the mont I finally find you and hand you the box—it sets ablaze with joy. Still, if that doesn’t suit you, maybe you’ll think of another thod. I don’t know what that would be.”

The demon’s whispers were cruel. Vicious, wicked, and brutal.

“What I want is for you to be my mate.”

Even if his whispers were full of lies, Shinar had no choice.

Then the demon turned into fire and whispered like [N O V E L I G H T] a friend.

“I’ve thought of a way to save you. Bring a mate. Soone to take your place.”

A way to fulfill her duty. A ans to buy ti.

Shinar had to find a new mate and offer them to the demon.

Otherwise, the only thing she could do was offer her stubborn life to buy ti for the few fairies left.

Shinar wasn’t a fool. She knew that going to the demon wouldn’t make it spare the others. The only thing she could offer was a temporary delay. And yet, there were no other options. Despair wrapped itself around her shoulders and coiled around her.

Inside that web of despair, Shinar searched for a way.

She left the city and began a journey to find the “mate.”

To be honest, she didn’t truly intend to find one. If she were to lay her heart bare, maybe it was just a short reprieve—a brief joy before the end.

Perhaps she simply wanted to make a mory, right before she danced her final dance with the demon.

Even if she brought a mate, the demon would’ve enjoyed watching her collapse. Even if she failed to find one, the demon would’ve relished watching her despair.

That’s why it granted her a reprieve—a chance to leave.

During that ti of reprieve, that grace granted by the demon, by chance... she made a mory.

“Who’s the commander of the 444th platoon?”

She rembers the first mont she saw him. His na was Enkrid.

At first, he was just a slightly odd human. A man worth watching. A man with ridiculous ambitions.

Watching that man press forward... was fun.

“Be careful with fire.”

Fire tends to burn everything away.

When she said that, Enkrid tilted his head, then looked troubled by her teasing joke.

Ti passed. The demon’s grace approached its end. Shinar had no choices left.

“Do you really have no intention of marrying ?”

She already knew Enkrid’s answer. A rejection. Even if he had said yes, she would have refused.

“I can’t let this man die.”

In other words, she had nothing left to offer to deceive the demon. The only thing left was to accept the demon’s proposal.

At most, twenty years. At the shortest, five.

She would beco the demon’s bride. Eventually, when he tired of her, he would chew her up bones and all.

Until then, she would wait.

A firm and resolute heart—like Will. The blade of Will does not break. It was a fight to endure until the day that blade was drawn.

When sothing like regret ca creeping in, sotis the whispers of evil spirits would flood her with remorse.

Fairies trained in emotional restraint should not be easily shaken—but the mont she faced the man before her, her heart rocked like a boat in a storm.

A boat eting the waves can capsize at any ti.

Then Enkrid’s voice suddenly pierced through her thoughts.

“Just because you’ve lived long doesn’t an today is different from any other day.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

Shinar agreed.

The life fairies pursued wasn’t wrong. But when crisis approaches, one must move accordingly. Is it right to stand still and be struck by an arrow you can see coming? Should you remain composed even as you watch the arrow fly toward you?

That’s not how it should be.

If you know, then dodge it—or block it.

When they beca aware of the demon’s existence, they should’ve fought with everything they had right then.

“We grew complacent.”

The fairy city had lived a life disconnected from the Demon Realm. They lived quietly and comfortably, bound by only the lightest of restraints. And that life had stripped the fairies of any sense of crisis.

“We shouldn’t have done that.”

They should’ve lived ablaze. Like fire.

Igniculus—they should’ve fought as sparks.

It was only after eting Enkrid that she could analyze the situation this calmly.

In a life that felt like drowning in a lake made of fla, burning even as she suffocated, she could finally breathe—and with that breath ca insight.

“Thanks to that, I’ve co this far.”

She would fight as a spark. She would raise the sword of Will.

But to ignite a spark, a trigger is needed.

You could call it fate—or you could call it Will.

If you believe in fate, you wait for that mont. If you believe in Will, you draw that mont out yourself.

Shinar, with her Will firm, t Enkrid like fate—and her spark ignited.

During their ti together, she burned. She awakened her elental energy.

Now, she had planned to hold her breath and wait with that spark inside her.

“I could have postponed it all.”

She had fooled herself into thinking she had nothing she wanted. But now, soone stood before her—soone who could not be deceived by any lie or trick.

“Did you not enjoy being with ?”

Enkrid asked again.

“Persistent man.”

Unconsciously, Shinar smiled. mories filled her head.

Friends burned by fire. The city. Her father, mother, and sister who died for her.

Over that sorrow, Enkrid appeared. Rem said nonsense. Ragna got lost. Audin prayed. Kraiss grumbled. Teresa sang.

Elsewhere, Rophod and Pell argued. Lua Gharne stood by Enkrid’s side and rolled Frokk’s bulging eyes.

Like a roof shielding her from a gloomy rain—those were the mories.

Yes. Watching him beco a knight made her happy. Even his silly jokes, tea ti, als, sparring, training—they were joyful.

Shinar said inwardly:

“You were spring. The only spring in my life, which had always been winter.”

And that spring now spoke.

“What do you want to do?”

It was a demand. A pressure. Say sothing—anything.

Shinar had seen what the demon had prepared in this place.

It no longer had vocal cords. All it had left was a body to forge monsters and a blade to cut down enemies.

And so she knew. They could not win. Telling them to leave was the right thing to do.

“I want to spar.”

But sotis, the body doesn’t obey. When the desire is too strong, the mouth opens on its own. That’s how Shinar’s lips parted.

“I want to sit by a campfire and make stupid jokes.”

What her heart wished for escaped through her mouth.