Chapter 638: There Are No Simple Dreams
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 638: There Are No Simple Dreams
Encrid nodded calmly. His composure suggested that everything happening was only natural.
Behind him, the elves—including Bran, who had been reduced to a mere onlooker—blinked in surprise. They were stunned.
What had she just said?
"I wanted to watch the clouds drift across a blue sky while eating apples. I wanted to pick my friend Krais's pocket just to tease him, and I wanted to teach that child, Seiki, so many more things."
"I see," Encrid replied.
It was a brief acknowledgment, providing a steady rhythm that didn't disrupt her flow.
Sinar added a few more words after that. For a final wish, it was incredibly modest. They were the kind of things anyone would call simple dreams.
And yet, all those things had existed within the time she spent with Encrid.
When the things the demon had stolen—stability, peace, joy, and hope—were restored within Sinar, she had finally learned how to manipulate vital energy.
So, was it not natural that everything she desired was bound to her life as an Igniculus—a life lived like a spark?
An elf's spark is their condensed life. It is their experience. And she had experienced all of it by the side of the man standing before her.
"You shouldn't have come back," Bran said.
From the Tree Giant smoking his pipe came a tone of deep, heavy regret—an emotion rarely seen in elves, who usually kept their feelings under tight control.
"You should have stayed there and lived your life."
"You could have done that," Arkoiris chimed in.
Brisa's expression darkened as well. The luminescent stone in her hand lowered slightly; she was so focused on the conversation that she had momentarily forgotten she was holding her arm up.
"Sacrificing oneself just to buy a reprieve... Is that how it always ends for everyone?"
Only Zero offered a different perspective. Having known those who had died for the city, it was a natural question for him to ask. Beneath his words lay a firm resolve; he did not wish for her sacrifice.
You're strong, Zero, Encrid thought.
He felt he could faintly understand what Zero wanted. The boy didn't want Sinar's protection. If there was a demon to face, he would face it himself. If the end was coming, so be it, but until then, he would struggle with everything he had.
Perhaps it was an "un-elf-like" way of thinking. But for an elf born in an era of demonic exploitation, perhaps it was the only natural way to be. Having lived not as a child of trees and flowers, but as an adversary of demons, he had learned how to fight rather than how to live in leisure.
Of course, Sinar had not lived merely as a cursed child either. She had risked everything to save the city of Kirhais. The elves who had come here knew that. Only those who understood her sacrifice had remained in the city.
They also knew they were hostages. If they fled, the demon would hold Sinar entirely responsible.
Yes, they knew. And Sinar knew it too.
If she left, the demon would slowly wither and kill every single elf remaining in the city. That was an unalterable fact. As long as the demon existed, it would never change.
In Sinar’s place, the demon would simply choose a new elf, drag them away, and then drain, chew, tear, and savor their vital energy. In the end, it would find Sinar and force her to witness every single sin she had tried to turn away from.
This was undoubtedly the demon's intent. They were shackles to one another—shackles that clamped so tightly around the ankles that they chafed the skin and drew blood, yet never loosened in the slightest.
Encrid relaxed his arms and corrected his posture. He listened intently, not missing a single syllable that fell from Sinar's lips. His demeanor alone showed his absolute sincerity.
As he listened quietly, the underlying meaning woven into her words became clear.
I want to stand by your side. For the rest of my life, I want to stay in the order—simply watching, listening, and enjoying myself.
That was the desire hidden between her words.
Some might call it a simple dream, but to Encrid, there was no such thing as a "simple" dream. There was only preciousness. At least, that was how it was for him. Therefore, Sinar's dream was precious.
If a knight couldn't even save a child who wanted to bake bread, why be a knight? Why even hold a sword? If he couldn't protect a single person standing by his side, what on earth could he protect?
By that same logic, if this elf wished to achieve her dream, he would make it so. That was why he had come all this way.
To be honest, asking why she had left was just an excuse. He had come to meddle and interfere, regardless of whatever damn duty was involved. He admitted as much to himself—though he would never say it out loud.
Encrid recalled the knight who had protected her city with her death. He had lost Oara in the Gray Forest. Was it Sinar's turn to be lost here?
It was a question he had asked before, and an answer he had already found. That answer had not changed.
He would not let that happen.
"Do you know of the deer that is born with a blue nose? I am that blue-nosed one," Sinar continued.
Though no one else could know, the demon had whispered endlessly into Sinar's ear for a very long time. It told her she was a cursed elf, and that everything she owned belonged to him.
The demon had urged her: "If you want to live, bring someone like yourself and offer them up."
It had been this way for a long time—from the moment Sinar believed everyone around her had died because of her, until now.
Memories rushed through Sinar's mind. Painful memories clashed with joyful ones, torturing her.
"If it weren't for you, everyone would have lived happily, right?"
Naira, her sister, appeared in her nightmares to ask that question.
In truth, it was merely a coincidence. The demon had planned it, and the young elf, intoxicated by fire, was guiltless. Her mind understood this perfectly. However, her heart spoke otherwise.
"Run away. There is no such thing as duty," Bran had told her. The elven elders had said the same.
There were those who shielded her. There were things she had protected while enduring the demon's whispers. She wanted to protect them. Therefore, her personal desires felt fleeting and meaningless. Even if it was a simple dream, she felt she did not deserve to achieve it.
"A blue-nosed deer must not live with the others."
Sinar tried to force the small boat of her heart, tossing in a storm, to a halt.
Encrid faced the situation head-on. Though there were things he did not know, he deduced them based on what he did. This was his conclusion.
He could roughly guess Sinar's intention. It likely wasn't much different from the group of elves who had accompanied her. She was prepared to die along with the demon. They intended to kill her rather than let her endure a lifetime of agony.
Sinar, rather than just dying, likely wanted to buy them a reprieve. Even if she were to die in the end, she wanted to wear a crown of thorns instead of flowers to prevent the slaughter from happening right away. Whether she was waiting for a moment when the demon weakened or had made other arrangements, she was no fool; she must have made "preparations" of her own.
Encrid recognized the truth, but he did not let on. Knowing changed nothing. And because of that, there was only one thing he could say.
"I don't give a damn about any of that."
His words were forged from sheer will. Luagarne slapped her palm against her leg.
"Indeed," Pel added. "Knowing full well that no one can stop that stubbornness of his."
At those words, the small boat tossing in the storm shrieked as if about to shatter. Sinar knew she would regret it, yet even knowing that, she could not hold back. In the end, the boat shattered, scattering into wooden splinters.
But so what? If there is no boat, you can swim. If you have no legs, you can crawl with your arms. Encrid had spoken this truth through the way he lived his life. Hadn't she dared to say she had fallen for him because she was so moved by that very life?
Sinar spoke again. Her tone was plain, ordinary, and calm.
"If you save me, you must take responsibility for the entire elven race. That is my dowry."
Upon hearing those words, Encrid, who had maintained a polite demeanor until now, stiffened. His tone as he spoke next was almost blunt.
"I can't do that."
"You can't?" Sinar asked.
"I can take responsibility for them," Encrid replied, "as long as it's not a dowry."
The labyrinth was incredibly dark. Even the light of the luminescent stone was fading, reaching the end of its lifespan. Yet, the man named Encrid seemed to harbor light within himself. Whether that light came from his resolve or the words he forged, it was impossible to tell, but that was simply how it felt.
"Then, Enki... will you save me?" Sinar asked once more.
"I will."
Encrid nodded.
Because they were so focused on the conversation, no one had noticed, but Encrid had not even sheathed his sword yet. With blade in hand, his gaze shifted behind Sinar.
A figure that had been lingering behind the bone chair stepped out with heavy, plodding steps.
The demon that had originally tormented Sinar had discarded its vocal organs and hidden itself within the darkness. It had submerged itself into silence. Of course, it had no intention of staying hidden.
"It's the demon One-Killer."
Sinar only knew its name. The fire-wielding demon that had existed before was gone. Using its will as a hammer and time as an anvil, the demon had refined and transformed its form. Shedding its physical body, the demon had split itself into two entities: one for combat, and one for production.
Among them, the demon whose sole purpose was combat and the annihilation of enemies was One-Killer.
Encrid felt a vivid will emanating from the creature. It wasn't particularly violent or ferocious. Rather, it felt filled with absolute purity.
Pure, unadulterated killing intent.
Would it look like this if one converted their entire Will into the pure intent to kill?
If you attack, I kill. Only that singular resolve filled the creature.
It had eye sockets but lacked a mouth and nose. Even where its eyes should have been, there were no human-like organs, only holes emitting a faint, orange glow. And the eyes were not the only places emitting light. Its skin looked like metal, and irregular lines ran across its entire body like engraved patterns, from which light also seeped out.
Though it stood on two legs like a human, long blades were attached to both of its arms, as if it were wielding a sword in each hand. It was a light that carried heat. As the creature stepped forward, the surroundings brightened as if a light source had appeared.
Encrid recognized exactly what his opponent was. The enemy of all species, the antithesis of intellect, the guardian of evil and injustice.
A demon.
Is its basic form similar to a Heartless?
In the Demon Realm, there were beings that had offered their very hearts to the Demon God to become monsters. They were called Heartless. They were monsters that fought with blades instead of arms, and because they had no hearts, they would not die unless their heads were severed.
The neck.
Was it a weakness? He didn't know. There was too little information to be gained just by looking at its exterior.
One-Killer took a step. The orange light pierced through the darkness. The movement of the light source was dazzling, meant to deceive the eyes. Of course, Encrid did not track his opponent with his eyes alone, so he was not fooled.
The feet.
Encrid watched the demon's foot press firmly against the ground. The transmission of force traveled from its ankle to its knee. A movement identical to that of a swordsman who had trained for many years followed.
Thump.
Kicking off the ground, the creature brought its blade down. Encrid swung his Truesilver sword upward to meet the vertically falling strike.
If he poured out all of his Will now, he wouldn't be able to block a second attack. Yet, he couldn't sever the creature's neck with the first strike either. He calculated and predicted the outcome with accelerated thoughts. Thus, he swung his sword upward, channeling only half of his Will.
The two blades clashed in midair.
Crash!
It felt as if a bolt of lightning had struck right beside them.
The demon One-Killer had a slender build, but its strength was anything but slight. Its power was comparable to the strike Encrid had just unleashed. And though it was just a feeling, he knew that hadn't even been its full strength.
Encrid took three steps back to bleed off the force vibrating through his sword. One-Killer did the same. The creature retreated with a light skittering sound, raising the blade on its left arm vertically.
Was it waiting for the next attack? If so, he would have to apologize. He had been catching his breath, feeling a bit excited.
But it was a moment where he couldn't help but feel that way.
"Don't interfere!" Encrid shouted to Pel and Luagarne. "This one is mine."
One-Killer had no mouth, so it could not smile. Yet, it felt as if the creature was grinning. Of course, a creature forged of pure killing intent possessed no such capacity for expression. It was merely an illusion—perhaps because he was looking at his opponent as if looking into a mirror.
A demon.
Could this be considered his first time actually clashing swords with one? The Balrog had been a mere fragment, which Oara had killed, and Count Molsen was nothing but a minion. He had never truly laid eyes on the demon known as the Master of 10,000 Wraiths.
Therefore...
Would it be fair to call myself a true Demon Slayer?
If he overcame this creature, he would be.
With its arms hanging loose, the creature stared at Encrid with eyes made of light. Its killing intent targeted him alone. It felt as if an imaginary blade would fly out and rip open his abdomen at any moment.
Of course, that wouldn't happen.
Feint Slash.
Just by looking at the demon, the technique known as Feint Slash—his reinterpretation of the Valen-style Mercenary Sword—was being triggered. In other words, this was a formidable foe. An enemy stronger than any he had faced before.
So how could he not be thrilled?
"This is crazy," Encrid said, ignoring the imaginary blade with his Will of Rejection.
Everyone was watching the fight in tense silence. Naturally, Encrid's words reached their ears clearly.
"It's too much fun."
Encrid muttered. Everyone who heard him doubted their ears. Was that really the right thing to say when facing a demon?
Those who knew him would have simply nodded, but to those seeing him for the first time, it was a shock.
"Was he a madman all along?" Bran's murmur was the only answer.
Even though Encrid himself believed he was the only sane one in the entire order.