Eternally Regressing Knight
Chapter 629: Chapter 629 - Striking with Vigor
A tree giant smoking tobacco?
Naturally, this was a first.
Before Enkrid could utter a word, the tree giant spoke again.
"Oh, you’re human, huh? Then it’s only natural you haven’t seen this before." The deep brown eyes, seemingly carved from tree bark, were oddly fascinating.
Those eyes blinked as they focused on Enkrid.
He had heard of fairies made of wood before.
"...Treant?"
Behind Enkrid, Luagarne tilted her head and asked curiously.
"That’s correct."
The white-haired fairy nodded.
Treants were one of the fairy clans created long ago by a god of the forest, tasked with protecting and preserving the trees.
Not all fairies were like Shinar.
The term "fairy" encompassed a variety of beings, including the Dryads, Treants, and Winged Fairies.
Dryads were said to resemble green leaves, and Winged Fairies were small, palm-sized beings with wings, also known as pixies.
Yes, Enkrid knew of them.
But he never imagined one puffing on tobacco so delightfully.
Between lips formed of bark and dried leaves, the rolled brown leaf cigar glowed red at the tip before fading again.
Puff.
Smoke billowed out, swirling like clouds and floating away.
How was this even possible?
During his mercenary days, he’d known men who were chain smokers, but the most they could manage was blowing smoke rings.
If that one mercenary obsessed with smoking tricks were here, he’d likely cry "Master!" and cling to the tree giant.
"Want one?" the tree giant asked.
"You’re being rude to our guest, Bran," someone admonished.
"Rude? It’s not like human tobacco. This stuff’s good for you," Bran replied casually, walking to the side.
The creaking sound of bark rubbing against itself accompanied his movements.
"I don’t smoke, so I’ll pass," Enkrid finally answered.
He was human, after all.
If something was shocking, he reacted.
And this was one of those moments.
What on earth was that tree giant?
Why was it smoking tobacco?
Shouldn’t it be more cautious with fire, being made of wood?
Yet there it was, puffing on its cigar with utter satisfaction as it walked away.
What if it caught fire?
Maybe Shinar had been overly cautious about fire for good reason.
Such thoughts raced through his mind.
As Bran, the Woodguard, moved aside, the surroundings came into view.
Oddly, no one seemed to pay attention to the smoking tree giant.
Instead, everyone was busy staring at Enkrid and his companions.
Enkrid instinctively scanned the area with his eyes.
"Whether fighting or not, observation is fundamental," Luagarne had taught him.
Enkrid adhered to that lesson.
At the city’s entrance lay a clearing, surrounded by towering trees.
The open sky above bathed the area in warm sunlight.
The atmosphere was serene and quiet.
The city exuded an overall calmness.
Birds singing and the chirping of insects could be heard, but they seemed like background music symbolizing peace.
Enkrid sharpened his awareness, noting many details around him.
Within the hollowed-out trunks of massive, ancient trees, fairies poked their heads out like squirrels.
Underneath the towering trees were more tree giants resembling Bran, each with a colossal presence that skewed one’s perception of size.
Some were even larger than Audin, and there were those twice the size of an average human, resembling actual giants.
One was likely three times as large.
The largest of them sat with closed eyes and a shut mouth, looking just like an enormous tree.
Taking in these sights, Enkrid broadened his perspective further.
The area featured a large clearing at the center, surrounded by wooden structures.
These structures seemed to form the city’s core, though it was unlikely to be the entirety of it.
"Is the forest serving as both boundary and structure for the city?"
The fairy settlement was home to hundreds, if not thousands.
It wasn’t a place that could be fully grasped at a glance.
Even walking through it would likely take days.
The city was vast—larger than Border Guard.
Though it wasn’t paved with broad avenues, paths winding between the trees offered access to various areas.
Enkrid switched from broad observations to focused scrutiny, catching sight of something that stood out—the bases of the wooden structures, which he assumed to be homes.
These homes resembled natural treehouses crafted by squirrels in an architectural guild.
Their roots pierced through the ground, anchoring them firmly.
Overall, they retained a tree-like appearance.
What was bothering him about these structures?
"Why?"
Enkrid asked himself twice, seeking an answer.
His instincts told him these weren’t ordinary homes.
The roots looked like part of the tree, but that wasn’t all.
"Could those things move if necessary?"
His intuition insisted they could.
Their perfectly symmetrical arrangement around the clearing felt far too deliberate to be natural.
Even the soil around their roots was slightly different in color.
Enkrid’s observational skills were exceptional.
His training with Jaxen hadn’t just enhanced his combat abilities but also his awareness.
And Luagarne had drilled into him the importance of studying the environment before engaging in battle.
Following these lessons, Enkrid carefully processed his observations.
While his learning pace might have been slow, once he mastered something, he never forgot it.
"Do these houses move?"
That was his conclusion.
Beyond that, his sharp senses noted the curious, emotionless gazes fixed on him.
Though they appeared dispassionate, they carried a faint trace of wonder and intrigue.
"Why do they look like that?" Fel remarked.
He wasn’t wrong.
Their gazes were unsettling—cold, emotionless—almost enough to stir primal fear.
Not that they were outright frightening.
Fel himself was unfazed, having faced far greater challenges.
After all, surviving alongside Enkrid had hardened him to such peculiarities.
"Human guests... How fascinating," one of the fairies remarked as they approached.
This was a Dryad, one of the forest clans known for their healing abilities and a predominantly female population.
The approaching Dryad was indeed a woman.
Her dark green hair and pale green skin exuded a refreshing aura of the forest rather than human beauty.
The mysterious green fabric, embroidered with golden threads, made her appear even more enigmatic.
The dryad, with eyes resembling intricately carved green leaves, scanned the group before speaking again.
"Are you different from those potato sprouts?"
Calm and composed, yet strikingly abrasive—that was the impression.
Enkrid, sensing this, began to empty his mind.
After all, they say that only an empty vessel can be filled.
Abandoning preconceptions and biases allowed him to accept whatever lay ahead.
In mere moments, his demeanor shifted.
The white-haired fairy noticed this transformation with their innate sharpness and was quietly impressed.
’His spirit is upright and unyielding.’
Though surprised, the fairy didn’t overreact.
Accepting things as they were was a hallmark of boldness, reflecting a subtle depth in the interaction.
"It’s not the usual time for visitors, so everyone must be startled," the white-haired fairy remarked.
"It’s also been ages since we’ve had a human guest," added another treant.
His voice sounded like the crunch of dry leaves underfoot, clear yet crackling, conveying his message with peculiar resonance.
The treants’ voices, like Bran’s, were uniquely captivating.
Enkrid observed the towering treants before him, noting that distinguishing one from another based on appearance seemed nearly impossible.
Compared to them, identifying individual Frogs was a much simpler task—though not an easy one, by any means.
"It’s been a long time since humans came here. Truly a long time," the treant said again, his voice rasping with a distinctive tone.
The oddity of their pronunciation, dictated by their distinct vocal mechanisms, was striking but comprehensible.
Having witnessed so many oddities, Enkrid merely accepted it without much fuss.
Acceptance, some say, is both a skill and a talent.
If so, Enkrid was unmatched on the continent.
After all, he had managed to coexist with the troublemaking Madmen unit, leading them as their commander.
Compared to them, the peculiar appearance of the treants didn’t seem all that extraordinary.
Enkrid stood resolutely before the treant blocking the clearing.
It was time for introductions.
Even in the fairy city, communication between sentient beings followed familiar patterns.
"Enkrid of the Border Guard," he said in his usual succinct manner.
A brief silence followed.
"He’s the Demon Slayer," added a burly fairy who had accompanied the white-haired one.
At this, murmurs spread among the nearby fairies.
"Demon Slayer?"
"The Unyielding Knight?"
"The Enchanter Knight?"
"The Heartbreaker?"
Their words were calm and detached, as though reciting from a book, but the slight widening of their crystalline eyes hinted at their astonishment.
Among the titles murmured, the last one—"Heartbreaker"—momentarily unsettled Enkrid.
He found himself genuinely puzzled.
He hadn’t encountered such a nickname elsewhere, so why had it emerged here?
After a moment of subdued warmth, the white-haired fairy spoke again.
"We’ll guide you inside."
With that, they led the group deeper into the forest.
The stares of the fairies lingered, their gazes intense yet silent.
Despite their outward calm, there was a palpable sense of awe and reverence as they scrutinized Enkrid.
Even the dryads and treants shared this behavior.
It felt as though their eyes were instruments performing a quiet symphony of observation and curiosity, blended with faint traces of goodwill.
"This way," the white-haired fairy said, leading them into a dwelling carved into a large tree on the left side of the clearing.
The entrance, taller than expected, opened into a cozy interior.
Though the space wasn’t large, it felt welcoming, with the temperature and humidity just right.
The group passed through a short corridor with walls seemingly formed from intertwined tree roots.
A table covered with a green cloth awaited them in a room filled with the fresh scent of grass and aged wood.
The aroma was as natural and invigorating as summer, despite the chill of the season outside.
"It smells like summer," Fel murmured.
His words captured the essence perfectly—the harmonious blend of grass, old wood, and earth.
The house’s interior reflected the individuality of the fairies, from the furniture to the overall design.
Even the chairs, while resembling chunks of unevenly grown wood, had a peculiar charm.
"You’ve come seeking Shinar of the Kiraheis family?" asked the white-haired fairy, seated on one of the chairs.
"That’s correct," Enkrid replied, stating their purpose without hesitation.
He had anticipated meeting her as a matter of course upon their arrival.
"She’s not here, is she?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.
"No, she isn’t," the white-haired fairy confirmed with a nod.
As they spoke, another silver-haired fairy entered from a passageway, serving tea in cups that resembled hollowed-out wooden fragments.
Despite their crude appearance, the tea inside was excellent—exceptional, even.
If this had been a leisurely visit to savor tea, Enkrid would have offered his highest praise.
"She’s not here," the white-haired fairy reiterated.
Though the situation aligned with Enkrid’s intuition, he had hoped otherwise.
"Is she dead?"
It likely wasn’t the case.
As mentioned, he asked despite knowing the answer.
Some things must be spoken aloud, even if they are already known.
This question was one of them.
The white-haired fairy shook his head.
"She won’t be able to die, no matter how much she wants to, for a few years at least." From the fairy’s words emanated a deep scent of emotion—regret, remorse.
It was the first time Enkrid felt such a distinct emotion from him.
Though, for a human, it might have been no more than the faintest slip of feeling while speaking.
Several thoughts crossed his mind.
Though he wasn’t entirely sure, it seemed the fairy’s body was bound and restrained in some way.
"Can you tell me the full story?"
Since his counterpart approached with goodwill, Enkrid had no reason to show hostility.
Not only the fairy before him but even the one who served the tea seemed to be acting with kindness.
"I also have something I want to ask."
A question returned for a question, and this time, the emotion was palpable.
Though wrapped in composure, the desperate core beneath was unmistakable.
Enkrid waited for the fairy’s question.
It was an act of patience.
After all, they had assured him Shinar wasn’t dead, so all he needed was a path to reach him.
But was this a lie?
"Fairies find it hard to lie," Shinar had once told him.
It probably wasn’t.
Perhaps fairies exposed to the world’s trials on the continent might resort to lies.
But for a fairy raised in a society where sensitivity allowed everyone to discern truth from falsehood, lies were unnecessary.
They said there wasn’t even a word for "lie" in their language.
The white-haired fairy took his time before speaking.
His voice was deliberate, calm yet imbued with desperation.
"Do you really knowhow to kill a demon?" Enkrid didn’t answer immediately.
The earnestness in the fairy’s gaze demanded a cautious response.
After careful deliberation, Enkrid parted his lips, paused again to organize his thoughts, and finally nodded before speaking.
He responded sincerely, intending to reciprocate the goodwill shown.
"You strike it vigorously." Silence fell.
No one seemed inclined to speak.
From the adjacent room came the faint sound of movement.
The quiet was so deep it allowed even the rustling from next door to be heard.
"...Embarrassing," Fel muttered, breaking the silence.
Luagarne, after a moment of gauging the fairy’s reaction, added, "It wasn’t meant as mockery." Enkrid, upon reflecting on his words, realized his mistake.
This was entirely Rem’s fault.
Ragna, Jaxen, and Audin were also partly to blame.
Spending time with them, sharing discussions about swordsmanship and martial arts, had instilled in him a habit of giving concise and straightforward answers.
There were too many aspects that couldn’t be explained anyway. That habit had slipped out now.
Realizing his blunder, Enkrid tried to recover by adding, "You strike it vigorously until it’s dead."
"Should we sew his mouth shut?" Fel muttered again.
"This wasn’t always the case," Luagarne murmured before turning back to the fairy.
"It truly wasn’t meant as mockery."

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