Chapter 636: Indeed, Encrid Had No Intention of Listening
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 636: Indeed, Encrid Had No Intention of Listening
A throne carved from bone pulsed with a pale blue light in the darkness. It was an eerie glow, distinctly different from the warmth of sunlight or the silver of the moon.
Seated upon it, Sinar’s blonde hair looked dull, its luster swallowed by the ominous radiance.
"Welcome. Let me introduce you. This is my companion."
Sinar spoke, gesturing behind her with an open hand.
Before anything could be seen, the stench hit him first. It was a foul cocktail of every imaginable odor—the reek of rotting meat, bodily fluids, and excrement, all concentrated in one place.
It was a stench so vile that an ordinary person would have been unable to endure it without gagging. Encrid simply shut off his sense of smell.
The more sharply one trains their senses, the more they naturally learn how to dull them in reverse.
With his sense of smell blocked, he craned his neck to see what she was presenting. Behind him, Brisa held the luminescent stone a little higher.
As the light rose, the visible area expanded. It didn't illuminate everything, but it was enough.
A troll, an ogre, and a ghoul. The troll sat atop a Twin-Headed Human-Faced Dog. They neither roared nor drooled; they simply waited in a chilling silence. It was undeniable—they were waiting for Sinar's command.
"The 'companion' part was a joke," Sinar said.
Her voice resonated like the notes of a finely tuned instrument.
"Instead, I have decided to become their queen."
A lie.
Elves do not know the meaning of a 'lie.' Only after wandering the continent and becoming weathered by the world do they learn the art of deception. Sinar was telling a lie she had learned in exactly that way.
In other words, it was incredibly clumsy.
What would Krais—a born liar who delighted in deceiving others with his clever mind—think if he saw Sinar now?
“What do you take me for?”
Would he say something like that?
Even though it was hardly a moment for laughter, an amusing thought crossed Encrid's mind first. Facing such a transparent lie made it so. That was just how it was.
There was no need to hold back his laughter, yet he couldn't laugh.
Why?
It was likely because of the elves, whose specialty was emotional restraint. Thanks to his habit of absorbing and learning from everything around him, he had naturally adopted a part of their demeanor. It had happened in the realm of his subconscious.
This was absolutely not born of anger.
"Now, will you fight my children?"
The unique specimens of the troll, ogre, and ghoul stepped forward from the bone throne.
"...Who is whose child?"
Arkoiris, who had been listening from behind, stepped forward. The elf, who loved Sinar, could not hide his emotions; they were written plainly on his face.
The subtle twitching of his facial muscles betrayed his state of mind. The wrinkles around his eyes, his furrowed brow, his trembling lips—every feature conveyed pure agony. Even so, his expression was not distorted to the grotesque extent of a human's.
"There is no need for this," Arkoiris murmured.
His voice was incredibly quiet, but no one present was dull enough to miss it.
"We cannot leave you to remain as the Demon's Bride."
Arkoiris spoke again, his resolve clear. However, there was one thing different from when he had said those words before: the light flickering in his eyes.
The light of hope.
There was no need to question who had given him that light.
The owner of the blue eyes shining in the darkness drew his weapon.
Chiring.
The Truesilver sword absorbed the light of the luminescent stone, casting a white glow that resembled moonlight. Perhaps that was why people called Truesilver the metal of the moon.
It radiated a mysterious, ethereal light. Anyone who saw the glow emanating from Encrid's sword right now would surely nod in agreement.
"You shouldn't have come here," Sinar said.
Encrid raised his sword with an indifferent air. He positioned the blade between his eyes, sharpening his focus. He observed the approaching monsters. As his thoughts accelerated, his eye of insight opened, and the future came into view.
"Take the ghoul, Pel."
Behind the monster's torso, something like soot was visible. An Evil Spirit had possessed it, boosting its innate abilities—though this was something Encrid and his companions could not know.
Not that it would have mattered much if they did.
With his thoughts accelerated, Encrid mapped out his path—a trajectory leading directly to Sinar.
Grrrr.
A sound like boiling water bubbled from the muzzles of the three monsters.
Thump!
Kicking off the ground with its hind legs, the Twin-Headed Human-Faced Dog lunged. The troll riding on its back came with it, extending long claws to strike.
It was fast. However, because its movement was linear, it was easy to predict. Besides, its speed and power were hardly fiercer than the sword of the elf knight they had encountered on the way.
Encrid stepped outward with his left foot, simultaneously channeling a violent amount of Will into his sword.
The Truesilver blade rang with a sharp ping. Through his palm, the sword seemed to scream, warning him that its body would shatter at this rate.
Then, Encrid swung the sword, overflowing with Will, in a diagonal slash.
In terms of pure technique, it was a simple diagonal strike. Within the concept of Jeong-Jung-Hwan-Kwae-Yu, it could be called a Heavy Sword Style downward slash.
However, what was loaded into that sword was the entirety of Encrid's Will.
To everyone's eyes—even to Sinar's—the blade Encrid swung vanished for an instant. Exceeding a certain speed, the metal tore through the air.
Boom!
The sound of an explosion followed the blade's path. Before that sound could even register, Encrid's sword had already sliced through the troll and the Twin-Headed Human-Faced Dog.
With Encrid at the center, the troll and the beast were split vertically and flung to the sides. A dull thud echoed. Black blood erupted from the carcasses, pooling on the floor.
The floor of this level had not been damp, but Encrid had just made it as wet as the floor above.
Encrid exhaled a sharp breath and spun his sword. Drawing a half-circle in the air, the blade rose and settled into a high stance.
Lacking a weapon, the ogre used its forearms as a shield. Peering through the gap between its massive arms, the beast lunged.
The sight of the monster charging while trying to shield itself was laughable.
Encrid felt a fresh surge of willpower rising to replace what he had spent. At this moment, he felt more powerful than at any other time since entering the labyrinth.
A gap was visible between the ogre's forearms. He could thrust into it if he wished. But there was no need to exploit a gap. He could simply cleave the entire thing in two.
Encrid felt the weight of the air, as if he had stepped into a swamp of crushed stones. It pressed down on his shoulders and dragged at his ankles.
It's heavy.
The pressure threatened to burst his blood vessels. Yet, it was bearable. Had he not just endured it a moment ago? A portion of his Will, moving subconsciously, surged through his body like a protective shield.
Overcoming the pressure, he swung his sword. Once again, a thunderous roar erupted.
Boom!
Encrid finished his second strike.
Splurt!
The blade sliced through the ogre's head and torso before exiting. Cleaved from its skull down to its chest, the ogre spilled brain matter, entrails, and black blood in torrents. It flailed its arms in the air for a final, useless moment before collapsing with a deafening crash.
Meanwhile, Pel had dispatched the ghoul. Seeing that one of the ghoul's arms was charred and decayed, it seemed Luagarne hadn't been standing idly by either.
After a brief silence, Sinar offered her assessment. Her words were entirely unexpected.
"You've grown dull, Enki."
Though she said he had grown dull, she was not referring to his swordsmanship. The level of the strike he had just shown was higher than anything he had displayed before. It was the result of his immense growth and his mastery of Will—an achievement made with the help of the swordsmanship Sinar herself had shown him, the style that manifested the four seasons.
"You've grown dull," she repeated.
Without waiting for an answer, she continued.
"If you became a knight and wished to move forward, you should have turned away. You are dull. You are so dull that you won't be able to cut down anything."
Encrid shook the blood off his sword and swept his hair back with his left hand. The blood that had splattered while killing the monsters stained his skin. It was sticky and foul.
Do elves have a bath culture? Or do they wash in clean lake water? The blood of monsters smelled terrible and felt worse. He wanted to finish this quickly and wash up.
"Sinar Kirhais."
Encrid called her name.
Everyone strained to hear what he would say next. Was it an answer to her calling him dull? Or would he demand to know what she was doing?
The man named Encrid always defied expectations.
"Why did you leave?"
He had come all this way for this very question, so he simply asked it.
"..."
Sinar's voice, which usually flowed like music, ceased for a moment.
Darkness and silence were a natural pair. Silence seeped into the dark cave. Brisa held the luminescent stone higher. As the light spread, the visible range expanded further.
There was no change in Sinar's expression, but Encrid could tell she was taken aback.
"It seems you didn't listen to a single word I just said."
"You didn't write the reason you left in your letter," Encrid replied. "So I came to ask."
Something resembling a smile flickered across Sinar's face. What followed was a supreme compliment.
"...You crazy bastard."
"She's smiling?" Arkoiris whispered, astonished. He wasn't the only one. Everyone, including Bran, was shocked.
"So you did know how to smile," Bran said. "You don't have to do this anymore. Sinar, let's go back."
Sinar erased her faint smile and shook her head.
"I am cursed."
It was a claim that would have made Esther, who had been writhing in Encrid's arms trying to break an actual curse, snort in disbelief.
"So go back, Enki. This is no place for you."
Encrid looked into Sinar's eyes. They were dull. It was as if someone had spilled the paint of despair into them.
"I beg of you. Go back."
It felt as though that despair might drip down at any moment, yet it remained pooled within her gaze.
"Tell me why I should. I came to hear the reason."
Another blunt remark. Listening to him, Pel wondered who on earth could ever defeat such stubbornness. As for Luagarne, she merely thought, 'Classic Encrid.'
Sinar looked at the man standing before her. A man with blue eyes, black hair, and numerous scars earned from rolling through battlefields. Thanks to his natural looks, it was difficult to guess what his life had been like unless one examined those scars one by one.
She had thought as much when she saw his body in the past. Those scars, those gouges in his flesh, spoke of the life he had lived.
I will become a knight.
"You're dreaming a futile dream," they must have told him.
I will protect those standing behind my back.
"Just worry about protecting your own life," they must have mocked.
The flower that had bloomed amidst that mockery was looking at her now. Sinar did not want that flower to wither because of her.
She wanted to pour out every word. She wanted to list reason after reason to persuade him. She wanted to lay bare the long, painful journey of her life, revealing everything.
Originally, she hadn't wanted to. Everyone has shameful secrets. But now, she wanted to send him back, even if it meant exposing them. No, she had to send him back.
"I must become the Demon's Bride. I have to."
Sinar spoke again, but the one standing before her was a stubborn man who had risen to the rank of knight with nothing but meager talent and sheer Will.
Indeed, Encrid had no intention of listening.
"The reason," he repeated.
"Because if you enter Holy Matrimony with me, you will become the price," Sinar’s voice faded. "That is why you cannot be here."
Encrid's attitude remained indifferent.
"Was your dream to become a Demon's Bride?"
Is this really what you want?
Sinar knew instinctively: this man would not back down until he saw this through to the end. Had her attempt to end things been too clumsy? Or had she, deep down, wished for this?
While claiming she wanted him to leave, had she actually been waiting for him to come and fetch her? Had her weak soul urged things to turn out this way?
Is it now time to curse my own soul?
Sinar closed her eyes. She felt an irresistible pressure dragging her down into the abyss of her soul. Memories she did not wish to recall surged up.
*
Clang—
Just as everyone has a childhood, Sinar had one too.
Clang—
Her very first memory was the sound of a hammer.
And...
"Sinar."
Parents who, though outwardly indifferent due to their restraint, were infinitely warm on the inside.
"Are you here again? I told you, let's make flower crowns."
And a sister who cherished her.
Yes, there was once such a time.