Chapter 634 - The Last Dance
"You're saying they don't die?" Enkrid asked.
"That's right, they don't.
Evil spirits themselves can't be cut by mere swords.
If you could use spiritual energy, it'd be easier, but in here, that's impossible.
That's why those things are as dangerous as death itself."
As he spoke, several drowned corpses stretched their heads forward unnaturally.
Their necks elongated, as though their spinal bones had gained elasticity.
It was a grotesque feat only possible because they were inhabited by evil spirits. Frost marks were visible on their bodies, hinting that the spirits possessed an innate ability to emit cold energy.
"It's not something that can be solved by cutting them with Will. You don't even need to ask about that."
Bran clearly stood out as the sharpest among the treants.
He answered even before Enkrid had the chance to ask if slashing with Will would work.
"Zero."
At Bran's call, Zero stepped forward and severed the arm of a drowned corpse approaching them.
As Zero slashed, the translucent arm of the evil spirit within reached out over the corpse's shoulder.
The movements weren't fast, making it relatively easy to dodge its grasp if seen.
The pale arm shimmered faintly, enough for Zero to evade it and retreat safely.
The severed arm of the drowned corpse twitched a few times before planting its fingers into the ground and crawling forward.
"See? Cut off an arm, and it moves on its own. Same with a leg. Burning them isn't easy either." This was something you wouldn't know without firsthand experience.
Clearly, the fairy group had previously explored this labyrinthine terrain in earnest.
Their knowledge reflected prior attempts at conquering the maze.
Enkrid had already deduced this based on their earlier comments about these creatures being undying.
Bran's lack of panic only confirmed they also knew how to deal with them.
Enkrid glanced at Bran, who continued without pause.
"Go behind them and find the orb nearby. Destroying it will end them. While the rest of us hold them off, one of us has to go."
After listening, Enkrid nodded.
It sounded like an awfully bothersome method.
Until the orb was found and destroyed, they would be locked in a battle of unknown duration.
It seemed designed to drain their stamina and wear them down with fatigue.
'If there's a demon here...'
It would surely be a cunning and manipulative one.
"Without a weapon capable of slashing souls, they're invincible. But if we buy enough time, Brisa will find the orb."
The fairy group discussed the strategy of breaking through while one of them, the female fairy Brisa, gripped a short dagger.
Her sharp eyes scanned the drowned corpses, likely plotting the most optimal path in her mind.
Just as they were concluding their plan, Fel spoke up.
"That won't be necessary."
He stepped forward, gripping his sword.
Fel's weapon, called Idol Slayer, was a blade that could cut both evil spirits and souls.
In essence, it was the nemesis of the undead and incorporeal entities.
Against spiritual and amorphous foes, it was a weapon akin to divine providence.
"Clear the path."
Enkrid commanded, and Fel began to move, tapping the ground lightly with his feet.
"Careful."
Brisa warned as she noticed all the nearby drowned corpses, along with others loitering in the vicinity, reacting to Fel's movements.
Her caution was valid; the situation could indeed turn dangerous.
If Fel's weapon had been an ordinary blade, the danger would have been immense.
Without responding, Fel shifted his left foot and swung his sword.
In that swing, Enkrid saw traces of the swordsmanship Ragna had once demonstrated—cuts that formed an almost impenetrable wall.
Fel's blade slashed through the necks of the drowned corpses, the strike continuing onward in one seamless motion.
Enkrid recalled sparring with Fel and observing his exceptional talent firsthand.
'An extraordinary gift.'
If not for Ragna, Fel's skills would undoubtedly have stood out.
Even with Ragna present, Fel's talent was impossible to overlook.
His strikes were not just learned but interpreted and adapted into his own unique style.
Moreover, Fel possessed a natural ability to spot the flaws in an enemy's defenses.
This allowed him to swing not with deliberation but with instinct, his blade tracing ideal trajectories.
His innate skill was undeniable.
The Shepherd's Sword moved gracefully, cutting through dozens of drowned corpses as Idol Slayer danced like it was performing.
The ice-covered drowned corpses were formidable, clinging to life even as they died.
Severed arms moved independently, trying to latch onto the living.
Burning them was impractical; the evil spirits repelled flames, and the damp surroundings made igniting a fire difficult.
Fighting them without spiritual energy to purify them was indeed a grueling task.
Two fairies reached for oil flasks hanging from their waists.
The plan was to douse the creatures and set them ablaze if necessary.
However, they never got the chance to throw the flasks.
The oil was a high-grade alchemical concoction made from treant sap, flaxseed oil, and rare herbs.
If Krais had known about its existence, he would have protested vehemently.
'You're using something that expensive just to kill monsters? Please, don't. Give it to me instead!' That's undoubtedly what he would have said.
Regardless, the oil wasn't needed.
Fel was enjoying the thrill of wielding Idol Slayer after so long.
Heads were severed, chests pierced, and even among semi knights, his skill surpassed many.
This was natural given his remarkable talent and relentless training.
Fel's daily sparring partners included Enkrid, Ragna, and Rem—warriors who far exceeded his level.
Add to that the rivalry with Ropord, and it was clear everything in Fel's life served as a catalyst for his growth.
Even when faced with a hundred drowned corpses blocking his path, Fel didn't falter.
The creatures charged relentlessly, their cursed wounds capable of leaving lingering marks.
Yet Fel remained unfazed.
Moving like the lead in a grand ballroom dance, his swordplay became a mesmerizing performance.
Thwack!
The sticky ectoplasm flowing from a split head belonged to a dead spirit.
Slash!
The shrill wail from beneath a severed skull was the scream of an evil spirit.
For Fel, cutting through the incorporeal beings was simpler than swatting individual flies.
As he cleared the creatures, a staircase leading downward emerged.
Among the corpses, a faded orb rolled out.
Bran had suggested bypassing the creatures to find the orb, but in reality, one of the drowned corpses had held it.
Bran's strategy would have required much more time and effort.
Still, there was no point in criticizing him for it.
"Let's spar later."
Zero suggested to Fel, his words revealing an unusual eagerness for battle, even among fairies.
Though Enkrid found it admirable, the other two fairies showed no reaction.
"You and that Frog over there—you're both incredible fighters." Bran's calm voice carried a hint of hope.
It was a quiet, resolute kind of hope.
"We can't leave Lady Shinar to be the bride of a demon." The male fairy spoke firmly.
Without replying, Enkrid began descending the staircase.
Unlike before, these stairs were well-maintained, evidence of deliberate construction—whether by humans, monsters, or demons.
"Do you know how many floors there are?"
"Even if it's a labyrinth, it's not vast enough to be called a grand maze. The demon is likely hiding on the next floor."
Bran's words were uncertain, but it was natural he didn't have all the answers.
Upon reaching the next level, the group found themselves in an intricately carved corridor, its rectangular path extending into impenetrable darkness.
The gloom was so thick that even the fairies' heat-sensing abilities couldn't pierce it.
'Magic.'
Enkrid's instincts whispered the truth.
"This is our only chance to rest."
Bran advised them to take a break.
Though the dampness from earlier was gone, the oppressive atmosphere had grown heavier, thick with suffocating and ominous pressure...
"This is probably better than not letting us sleep for a week in the mountains for training." That was Fel's statement.
What he referred to was the training that Enkrid had also undergone.
It was training where one had to respond in an extremely fatigued state, alongside endurance.
The training plan had been devised by Audin and Rem.
Of course, the two had endured it as well.
As for Ragna, he hadn't participated at all.
"Why would I do something like that?" That was all he said.
The infamous hellish training course at Border Guard was known for such challenges.
Fel had successfully passed through all of it.
Frogs, like Luagarne, had a different physical foundation altogether.
Enkrid, on the other hand, was someone who relished that kind of training.
So, he wasn't particularly tired.
His body had only loosened up.
But they still rested.
When one's stamina dropped, the mind would begin to falter as well.
The body and mind could not be separated.
Even if the mental strength of the fairy folk was robust, fatigue would soon reveal weaknesses.
After a brief rest, the group continued forward.
The path was a straight line, so they wouldn't get lost.
As they moved, the darkness began to dissipate, and monsters emerged.
"It's a troll." Fel spoke.
As soon as his words ended, Enkrid grabbed the troll's neckbone and yanked it out, swiftly decapitating another one who had been wielding a mace.
It happened in an instant.
The passage was wide, so using swords wasn't a problem.
The glowing stone barely lit the front and back, but the sides were filled with pitch-black darkness that seemed to move, almost as if something was slithering.
In reality, dark soot-like particles did emerge from the darkness.
However, Zero recognized it first.
"Evil spirits."
He said, and Fel's sword cut through the evil spirits.
After that, they encountered creatures like a cockatrice or basilisk, who could cast the curse of petrification.
They were weak monsters, though.
It felt as if they had fought for an entire day.
"Is someone making monsters out of thin air or something?"
Fel muttered.
Fatigue was secondary, but he was starting to get bored.
However, that boredom didn't last long.
The next monster blocking their way was alone.
The creature, standing motionless like armor on a stand, had black armor, a hollowed-out face, and was crawling with maggots.
Its gaze was dull and lifeless.
It was hard to say that it was still alive.
In fact, it was clearly dead.
The black eyes and decayed skin confirmed it.
Its lean body caught the eye, as did the thick sword it held.
The sword's tip was on the ground, and its blade was a dull brownish color, seemingly absorbing the light emitted by the glowing stone rather than reflecting it.
The sword prevented any light from spreading beyond a certain radius.
Because of this, twisted shadows were cast on the floor.
"Arzila?"
Zero recognized the figure.
It was an unfortunate and cursed soul, one bound to the demon realm even after death.
Enkrid didn't have time to listen to Zero or Bran.
Creek.
The dead creature's head tilted to the side.
There was no malice in it, but the movement and presence were unmistakable.
Enkrid crossed his feet and stepped forward.
His drawn sword gleamed as it reflected light, contrasting with the blackened sword held by the creature.
Why was he stepping forward?
He had a feeling that this opponent was too tough to leave to anyone else.
It was a gut feeling.
The black soot-like substance moved behind the dead creature, and it charged forward.
Clash!
Next, Enkrid saw the sword that scraped the ground and shot up from below.
Bran, confirming the opponent, quickly shouted.
"Avoid it!"
What he actually meant was to not collide with it.
Bran had been observing Enkrid as they advanced, and naturally, thoughts of hope had come to his mind.
That man had to be a knight.
The rumors of him slaying a demon weren't baseless.
But at the same time, Bran thought, they couldn't just rely on him and abandon the preparations they had made.
'Not being able to release magical energy doesn't mean it's impossible to use it entirely.'
The emission of magical energy might be suppressed, but the energy that had already been refined could still be used.
The fairy clan wasn't foolish.
They had brought along means to fight.
The refined magical energy had been crystallized into fruits.
They were called Chiaos.
In the continental language, it meant "Final Dance." If consumed, one would certainly die.
But just before death, one could unleash tremendous magical energy in combat.
That was the fairy's trump card.
Bran judged that now was the time to use Chiaos.
The opponent was Arzila, a fairy knight who had entered the labyrinth in the past and wielded a cursed sword.
The cursed sword was the engraved weapon of Arzila.
If it collided seven times, the weight of the sword in the opponent's hands would double.
It was a technique crafted by a genius fairy knight, a combination of magical energy and will.
Bran didn't know how the demon realm had changed Arzila, but one thing was certain. "If they collide, he'll lose."
Bang!
Before Bran's warning had ended, the swords clashed.
At the sound of it, Bran shouted again.
"Don't let your weapons clash!"
Enkrid was currently blocking Arzila's swift strikes.
Bran could barely register it, but one thing was clear: if they stood still, they would be wiped out.
***
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Many thanks to my friend Tulips for proofreading the chapter :)
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