Aitri spoke from within the illusion.
“Are you serious?”
It was a short but weighty question. And it was also sothing the real Aitri would never have said.
‘Even if I used a different sword for a mont...’
On the surface, she would’ve let it go, then quietly trained herself afterward until she forged sothing even greater.
So this—seeing a new swordsmanship—would likely serve as just as much of a stimulus for Aitri. That’s what he thought.
“The sword’s na is Penna. In the continental tongue, it likely ans feather—or leaf.”
As she spoke, Lephratio’s gaze turned toward Enkrid’s waist. More precisely, toward Burnt Spark.
“You won’t be able to use that anymore. Hand it over.”
Whether it was just good timing or she had prepared in advance, it was hard to tell. But it felt closer to the latter.
Enkrid hadn’t just broken the Silverblade—he had shattered it. And Burnt Spark was cracked through as well.
He hadn’t realized it while awakening and wielding the Wavebreaker swordsmanship, but once it ended, he had no intact weapon left.
The orange-glowing demon’s attacks had been that intense. They struck like a flash, crashing down like lightning.
He had alternated between high-speed cognition and thought-splitting, using the Wavebreaker sword to block the attacks. In doing so, he hadn’t just consud the Silverblade—he’d also drawn Burnt Spark when necessary to use as a shield.
And so, he ended up with no weapon left in hand.
‘And I lost Fortune when I left the labyrinth, too.’
Fortune had burned away to save Shinar’s life. Literally turned to ash, charred black like a fire-consud blade.
He hadn’t seen it himself. He’d passed out right after blocking the strike.
Only now did he truly realize how fortunate that luck had been.
Enkrid quietly untied Burnt Spark and handed it over. Lephratio took it and set it gently aside.
He would later learn that Burnt Spark, too, had once been touched by Lephratio’s hand.
“How is it?”
Lephratio’s voice was emotionless, but Enkrid sensed a hint of anticipation beneath it.
Penna—Feather.
The na suited the blade exactly. When he gripped the handle, it fit perfectly. The blade curved gently, with a single edge honed to perfection.
Lephratio plucked a strand of her own hair and laid it atop the blade. Shick—the hair sliced cleanly, without a sound.
“In terms of cutting ability alone, this is the finest of all the weapons I’ve forged,” she said, switching from the fairy tongue to the continental language. And true to her words, the blade was sharper than any sword he had ever seen.
“No maintenance required. Its energy sustains the sharpness. The tal it's made from—Moonlight Silver—was refined by etching true silver infused with moonlight using energy.”
Silver imbued with moonlight wasn’t just rare—it was legendary. A material so mythical, it barely existed in stories.
“It’s... too good. Isn’t sothing like this a treasure even within the city?”
Enkrid spoke honestly.
The blade wasn’t longer than two spans of his palm—hardly a main weapon—but depending on its use, it could be incredibly versatile.
“It is a treasure. That’s why I’m giving it to you.”
As if to say, why ask the obvious?
And Lephratio wasn’t done. What the fairy clan had claid to be “busy preparing for migration” was, in part, actually them preparing gifts for their idol.
“You gave him Penna? Even said you’d die with it in your hands.”
As Lephratio handed over the sword, a Druitess entered the chamber suffused with warmth.
She walked in on light toes, barely touching the ground, her steps as weightless as drifting leaves in the wind. She was the sa female Druitess Enkrid had seen earlier in the clearing.
She smiled radiantly and leaned in, her erald-green irises shining with a non-human beauty—distinct from Shinar’s, but otherworldly all the sa.
“Because I didn’t die.”
Lephratio responded as she approached. aning she had expected to die consud by the demon and the demonic realm—but had survived.
Unlike the Druitess, Lephratio showed no signs of regret. If anything, she seed pleased Enkrid had accepted the sword.
“We have sothing to give you too.”
The Druitess spoke. Enkrid rembered hearing from Shinar that among the fairies, the Druitess clan favored the idea of “we” over “I.”
That trait was shared with the pixie fairies, who spread dust, while other fairies like the Woodguards leaned toward individualism.
Such was fairy society—but there was no need to know the fine details.
“Co.”
The Druitess took Enkrid’s hand and pulled him along. Lua Gharne followed, puffing her cheeks in a playful grin.
“Your demon charm is shining.”
“There’s even a rumor you’re not just winning hearts—you’re abducting brides.”
That comnt ca from Pell. Enkrid’s eyes turned toward him.
The shepherd t his gaze directly. With heightened insight, Enkrid probed the truth in Pell’s words. Then, he saw Pell’s eyes shift sideways.
Multiple clues overlapped in his mind. The rumor about abducting brides—Pell was the one spreading it.
“Don’t go around starting weird rumors.”
Enkrid said it with conviction. It even felt like he had channeled a bit of Will into his words.
“...How did you know?”
Pell didn’t bother with an excuse.
He hadn’t spread the rumor for any specific reason. Shepherds were a race that loved to tease with lies and fables. There was a reason the fable of the boy who cried wolf existed.
Until now, he’d had neither cause nor people to trick—but his true nature was erging.
He didn’t an anything by it, but the fairies were so easily amused that it had beco an entertaining ga for him.
“You’re easy to read.”
As Enkrid stared at Pell, he suddenly had another thought—one separate from the knightly standard he had just established.
Not sothing to say °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° aloud yet, but it was like a thread had been grasped.
“If you can’t block what you see coming, it makes no difference.”
Pell answered challengingly.
“Prove it in a spar.”
Enkrid said, then turned to follow the Druitess.
They crossed a few winding paths and soon ca upon a small stream.
It was strange to see such a stream flowing inside the city.
Crossing it revealed a leafy area that hadn’t been visible before.
Despite it being winter, the air was warm—unbelievably so. Butterflies and bees fluttered about.
“It’s to wear under your armor.”
The Druitess who had brought Enkrid waved her hand, and two smaller Druitesses—each a head shorter than her—brought over large leaves.
When they unfolded them, their gift was revealed.
The Druitess clan weaves thread by entwining leaves from special trees.
They soak the threads in Woodguard sap for days, then dry them in moonlight.
After repeating this for years, a single skein is produced—what the fairies call Fairy Thread.
Their gift was a garnt made from that thread. Specifically, it was an underlayer to wear beneath armor.
‘Kraiss would have a fit if he saw this.’
Even a few gold coins wouldn’t be enough to glimpse sothing like this.
Just as humans divide fabric by use, Fairy Thread had its variations.
This one was made from the sturdiest kind.
It was a vest that covered the torso, leaving out arms and legs. Even a light tap revealed its resilience—tough as chainmail forged from steel.
“It’s fireproof, doesn’t rust since it’s not tal, and it holds energy. Most evil spirits will flinch just from seeing it.”
Fairy energy was akin to life force—and that life force was the natural antithesis to evil spirits.
Fairies lived on the outskirts of the continent, rarely attacked by monsters. This was why.
Only now did Enkrid fully realize it.
‘Just by using energy, you keep most monsters away.’
But now, enemies had appeared that couldn’t be deterred by energy alone.
‘If I can’t protect myself—’
Then I must accept protection from others. That was the reality.
He didn’t need to think about it too hard. The circumstances organized themselves clearly in his mind.
To ask for help ant swallowing pride—but if Ern, the fairy leader, decided alone, there would be internal backlash.
And that would doom the migration.
Persuading every stubborn fairy one by one would take too long. Their slow response had nearly gotten them devoured by demons.
But rushing things would cause different problems. What could suppress all opposition?
He thought he knew.
‘Was it Shinar’s sche?’
Or maybe Ern’s?
Enkrid had received countless gifts—and had beco the fairies’ idol.
So had even started carving statues of him out of stone.
Fairy children carried these mini-statues like talismans.
It was only temporary, like a fad—but it beca the norm.
And for the fairy clan, this was the obvious choice.
‘They can’t entrust themselves to just anyone.’
They needed soone they trusted. Soone they could depend on.
By idolizing that person, they could preemptively suppress any internal dissent. That was how to quash backlash.
Humans light fires and use them. Frokk will just watch the fire burn.
Giants fight fire. Dwarves forge with it.
Beastkin avoid it. Dragonkin ignore it.
And fairies—
‘They pour water on it before it even starts.’
That was a proverb—about how one deals with problems.
Fairies are always preparing. That’s how they’ve survived even while evading the demonic realm.
They didn’t rely on energy alone—it was also about their conduct. And that hadn’t changed.
Even if Enkrid hadn’t chosen their new settlent, the fairies would have tried to keep his support one way or another.
It felt like a cleverly crafted lure.
Fairies never lie. Instead, they say nothing at all—neither truth nor falsehood.
It was funny—maybe because of everything he’d thought about lately—but it felt like this, too, connected to sothing he had just awakened to.
Not that he had a clear idea yet.
But it wasn’t sothing to criticize—it deserved praise.
He also thought he knew what Ern wanted.
Not the prosperity of their race—but its survival.
In that, he was an admirable fairy.
When Enkrid returned with all those gifts, the “admirable fairy” Ern was waiting outside his quarters.
“The migration is nearly ready. Will you co with us?”
“I think it’s better if I go first. If people see trees walking, so might panic and mistake them for monsters.”
Ern had explained the fairy city’s migration before. Enkrid fully understood it now.
It was a far cry from wagons loaded with pots and pans.
“Ah, I suppose humans might be scared.”
Enkrid thought to say that a few wouldn’t be scared—they’d attack on sight—but kept it to himself. It wasn’t important.
As he saw Ern’s calm expression, he spoke.
“Who ca up with the idol idea?”
He didn’t sugarcoat it.
Ern didn’t look flustered at all as he answered.
“I thought of it. Shinar pushed it forward.”
Enkrid realized Ern was more cunning than he seed. And Ern realized this man wasn’t just so swordsman, either.
And that reassured him.
Better to entrust their future to soone like this than a maniac with an axe.
From what Shinar had said, there was one like that in the Border Guard.
A man who got lost and killed a knight from an enemy nation, or sothing?
Unfathomable to fairies.
Then again, humans didn’t really understand the Mad Knight Squad, either.
But humans don’t need to understand each other to live together. Acceptance is enough.
That was Ern’s mindset, too.
“Well then.”
The migration would take months. So would depart early.
‘Better to move in waves than all at once, in case of danger.’
There would be monsters or beasts along the way—but judging from the fairies’ strength so far, they could handle it.
‘If the neighboring lords see this migration, they’ll be stunned.’
In any case, before the full migration began, Enkrid set out ahead.
“You’re my fiancé. Why are you leaving without even making a child?”
Shinar’s farewell was rather striking.
“Do you find that amusing?”
Enkrid replied.
Her affection for her savior was vast as the sea. She nodded deeply.
“Very much.”
As Enkrid prepared to leave, the entire fairy clan stopped what they were doing and ca to send him off.
So handed him letters. Others gave fruit, carefully cleaned and easy to eat.
“How dare you flirt with my fiancé?”
Shinar scolded them in a flat tone. Clearly, she wasn’t truly angry.
And none of the fairies even twitched an ear.
“Isn’t the true winner the one who takes him in the end, Kirheis?”
One fairy boldly issued a challenge—but it was all fairy-style banter.
Enkrid listened for a while, then gave up on understanding.
“See you later.”
Shinar would join the next migration wave, so it was a temporary goodbye.
Aside from Lua Gharne and Pell, Zero joined as a guide.
In a short ti, his skills had improved imnsely.
Especially his ability to channel emotion into combat—better than any other fairy.
When his feelings surged, he didn’t lose control—he used them to fight. Easy to say, but hard to do. It was a sign of true talent.
Naturally, Enkrid’s help played a part too.
As they left, after walking a while, Enkrid began sharing what he had realized with Lua Gharne.
To an outsider, it might’ve looked like idle chatter on a long journey. But it was far from it.
“I see.”
Lua Gharne nodded, then added,
“You’re hoping for sothing.”
This Frokk was very perceptive.
“Yeah. A Frokk with the talent to read potential would’ve created so kind of internal frawork, right? Am I right?”
Frokk could see limits. And from limits, they could determine ends. From ends, beginnings. And knowing both, they could divide and categorize everything within.
He was right. The Frokk’s evaluation frawork had structure.
“Teach .”
Enkrid said.
Just because he’d established the knightly frawork didn’t an it was over.
Lua Gharne once again glimpsed the greatness of the man before her.
That unyielding hunger to learn—that was one of his driving forces. If he were a Frokk, he would’ve thrown himself into fire if it ant learning sothing new.
‘If he were a Frokk...’
As long as “that” didn’t awaken, he wouldn’t die. So he’d grind his body to the bone, just like now.
“Of course.”
Lua Gharne answered without hesitation.
There was nothing to hide. This man’s very presence shattered one of her core beliefs.
“Limits can be broken.”
She was living proof of it. And as she listened to the system Enkrid had built, a thought ca to her.
How to break limits.
That was the path Enkrid now walked.
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