The fairy who had taken the role of guide had once worked as a mercenary for the Information Guild, and he had learned much from that time. His eyes swept over the surroundings, out of habit—so that he could remember anything that entered his sight.
What caught the fairy's eye was a knight in black armor, sprawled across the ground. A familiar sight.
Black Serpent Ele?
He had only met him once in passing, but he had not forgotten the appearance of that armor. It was too distinctive to forget. The name engraved neatly on the armor was still visible. Though the armor itself radiated an ominous aura, the name carved into it seemed filled with affection.
Olivia, Sophia.
Hard names to forget. Judging from the circumstances, the fairy could piece together what had happened. He was the successor chosen by Ermen, and now he was acting as their guide. His eyes ceaselessly read the traces of battle that remained on the ground.
He killed them all by himself.
Even if three had joined forces to bring down Black Serpent Ele, it would have been shocking. But the scene suggested otherwise.
"It was a cultist. A so-called Apostle of the Advent."
Just then, Luagarne spoke. The fairy nodded cautiously and turned his gaze. At the far end, he could make out the body that had held the staff capped with a circular iron ring.
An Apostle of the Advent. A scourge upon the continent. A mouthpiece of demons.There were many titles for the being Enkrid had slain. Not a demon, but a man who had done worse than any demon.
It was said that he had once single-handedly annihilated an entire city. That with a curse, he had turned hundreds of people into wraiths.Given another decade or so, perhaps he would have stepped into the realm of legend. At least, that was the fairy's judgment.
"He could fight a little, but it wasn't much of a stretch."
Pel spoke boastfully.The fairy, having finished assessing the scene, could not help but be astonished. Astonished enough to forget his emotional restraint.
Could this be real?
"You killed an Apostle?""Seems more like it was a fake."
The fairy had asked in disbelief, but Enkrid's reply was calm. He meant it sincerely. The fairy judged his words to be the truth.To an outside observer, it would seem that it was Enkrid who had mastered emotional restraint, not the fairy. The fairy's eyes were wide with shock, while Enkrid remained composed.
"A fake?"
That didn't seem right. The fairy asked again, and Luagarne shook her head and called to Enkrid.
"Enki.""What?""When we return, have a spar with Rem.""I was going to anyway, no need to tell me.""Then you'll understand."
Understand what? He couldn't be sure. Yet at the same time, he felt like he might already know.
"If these were fakes, then the ones who prepared them could be called the greatest traveling troupe on the continent starting today. And if not, then they were thieves who had sold away their souls. That armor and the staff the Apostle carried are both precious treasures."
Ermen's successor had many strengths, but a few flaws as well. For one, he was a bit too talkative—for a fairy.He rattled off his words in a rush, then looked to Enkrid.
"That so?"
Enkrid only gave a slight nod. The fairy inhaled deeply and then began to speak again at a leisurely pace.
"Yes, that was Black Serpent Ele's symbol, and the staff the Apostle carried was forged from magic metal. Do you know what magic metal is? Ah, this reminds me of my first year after joining the Guild as a mercenary. There was a woman at the reception desk named Emily. She always treated me curtly. At first I thought it was because she disliked me. Yes, that's right, I hadn't yet adapted to human society, so I misunderstood. My senses told me she was fond of me, but her words were sharp and blunt. Thanks to her, though, I learned much about human speech and behavior. Even about bed manners—ah, not that I fathered a half-blood child, no. But because Emily looked after me, I managed to go on my first mission…"
Fairies were not normally so talkative. This was a side-effect of adapting to human society.A fairy could not tell lies, but a mercenary of the Information Guild often needed to fabricate them. After much thought, this fairy had chosen instead to speak in tangents, to bury truths and half-truths within endless chatter that confused others. It had become a habit. Among fairies, this was tolerated—others patiently listened, and could still pick out the essence of his meaning.
Enkrid, too, could grasp the gist of his words. But that didn't mean he liked listening. The tangents were far too long.
"Summarize."
Enkrid cut him off. The fairy had just been about to tell the story of his second date with Emily.
"Huh?"
The fairy obeyed quickly. After all, it was a command from his idol.
"Compress it into one point.""Er, right…"
The fairy faltered, then realized he needn't spin lies this time. So he shortened his words.
"It's expensive."
Enkrid looked at him and thought he resembled not Ermen, but Krais.
Like the fairies' version of Krais.
A single compressed statement tied to commerce. Perhaps it was because he had been worn down by the world. But then again, it wasn't a bad thing.Representing his clan, he had often been involved in trade, so it was only natural that his thinking had become shaped this way.And if one wanted to live among humans and other races outside the fairy forests, learning the language of exchange and negotiation was more practical than expecting courtesy and respect.
Not that Enkrid thought that far into it. He left such considerations to people like Krais or Abnaier. Instead, he just asked what he was curious about.
"Why is it expensive?""The staff is made of a metal that can absorb mana. The more mana it takes in, the more attuned it becomes, which is why it is sometimes called a living stone. Some even call it a Philosopher's Stone. To be precise, it's not merely expensive—its value could buy a small castle."
So that was it. Who would appreciate such a gift? Esther? Krais?Enkrid simply nodded.
No more enemies blocked their way on the road back.The death of a cultist would ripple across the continent—not like a storm, but like a steady drizzle spreading outward.He had never been the type to lead from the front, but one who worked in the shadows. If Enkrid had not posed such a threat, the Apostle himself would never have stepped out openly.
In truth, Enkrid had already foiled many of the cult's schemes.He had destroyed the gnoll colony. He had ended the Naurilian civil war.And in the process, he had slain both the Apostle of Curses and the Apostle of Forbidden Arts.
The Apostle of the Advent could no longer stand by and watch.It had become a problem too urgent to ignore, one that demanded his personal involvement. Why he had only stepped forward now—it was Enkrid who was the anomaly.
After all, he was not supposed to survive anything. Not curses. Not forbidden magic. Not assassination attempts by the most notorious killers on the continent. Yet he always did.Of course, only Enkrid himself knew that he had, in truth, died countless times already.
"It's raining."
Pel, walking ahead, remarked. Indeed, droplets began to fall. Not snow, but rain—signaling the end of winter.
Several days later, after they returned to Border Guard, Luagarne saw for herself the change in Enkrid.
"…Gods above, what in blazes did you do out there?"
Rem had been beaten. The result of a one-on-one spar with Enkrid. Enkrid, standing awkwardly, simply asked in return:
"Don't hold back. Fight seriously. No need to throw the match.""Heh… fine. Let's fight like our lives are on the line, you lunatic."
That day, Rem truly went all out.
If it wasn't a fight to the death but a spar, there was hardly a style better suited than the Wave-Blocking Sword. After all, it was a sword art forged from hundreds upon hundreds of sparring matches.
A moment earlier, Rem had shifted his footing to strike down with his axe while simultaneously stomping on Enkrid's foot with his right leg.If Enkrid dodged the axe, his foot would be stomped, and Rem would seize the advantageous position to continue attacking without pause.
It was an improvised move—impossible to read as a set play, and clever in how it drove the opponent into a defensive posture.The old Enkrid would have relied on his sturdy body, parrying the axe with his sword while letting his foot be crushed, or retreating and yielding initiative.
But this time was different.
Enkrid kicked aside Rem's foot and used the short sword he had received from the fairies to parry the axe.Neither strike lacked for strength, and the timing was perfect. Two lines of thought, executed at once.
Rem was shocked at how swiftly his attack had been dismantled. Not that he stopped his movements.
Clang.
The sound of blade against axe was not loud—but Rem felt threatened. And that threat took shape in the next instant. Using the rebound from deflecting the axe, Enkrid's short sword came crashing down.
Rem had no time to dodge or block. He caught Enkrid's wrist with his left hand.But in the very moment he thought he had secured the wrist, pain exploded across his forehead.
Thunk.
A headbutt.
Forget mind games—Rem staggered back, vision flashing white. He swung his axe down instinctively, but of course, nothing was there. That was the end of it. Enkrid did not press the attack further. Instead, he simply watched with unreadable eyes.
It was only a spar, true—but even so, the situation was unsettling.
Though he did not say it aloud, Rem could no longer deny one truth.
I lost?
His pupils trembled. Even when fighting Ragna, he had never been pushed back like this.Of course, if he unleashed his full arsenal of spirit-descent techniques and invocations, he would not be in danger of losing. And a single headbutt didn't decide a match.
But this was a spar. By those terms, he had lost.
What if Enkrid had continued his assault after the headbutt?It was pointless to argue hypotheticals. Yet still—
I might have lost.
Rem revised his thought. If he put a percentage to it, there was an eighty percent chance he would have been defeated.Even after Enkrid had told him to stop joking and fight seriously—even when Rem truly did.
"Damn it, you block like a stone wall."
Every blow was stopped.
"I named it the Wave-Blocking Sword.""My axe is stronger than any wave.""That so?"
Their banter was light, but their eyes were serious. And yet Rem could not overwhelm him. If anything, he was slightly on the back foot.
An inexhaustible well.
That was Enkrid's willpower. No matter how much Rem fought, he knew he could not outlast it.
Even if this weren't a spar—even in a real fight—I wouldn't win.
His natural warrior's instincts told him so. How could he not be shocked?
Especially when Enkrid's weapon wasn't even his main armament, but a short sword. True, it was a treasure—but its short reach was a disadvantage.
"Let's go again."
They clashed once more. A brief exchange.
"Enough."
Rem twisted his wrist, slashing four times in rapid succession with his axe as he retreated. He had used this against Ragna recently, and even Ragna had stumbled against it. With divine power filling his body, even a small motion carried crushing force.
But Enkrid angled his sword, deflecting every strange trajectory the axe carved.
Clang, clank, ping, tang!
The weapons sang like instruments.
When their spar ended, three onlookers had gathered.Audin had risen from his prayers and holy recitations.Ragna had woken from his nap in the sun, hand resting on his hilt.And Jaxen had crept to the roof's edge, chin propped on his hands, eyes shining.
All three had seen and felt the same thing.