A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

When a child sees something fascinating, they fall into it easily. Especially if it’s something they’ve always preferred since they were young.

Shinar had enjoyed watching refined iron from an early age. More precisely, she enjoyed watching iron transform as it was refined. The entire process where flame met metal always sparked her curiosity.

As a child, Shinar was utterly enthralled by fire, as if intoxicated by it.

“What’s so great about that? Let’s go see the flowers or visit Bran.”

In contrast, her sister was more ordinary. She liked to look at flowers like other children and would lie down in the grass until its scent clung to her skin. For fairies, having the scent of grass settle into their skin was an important part of life.

To lie between the grasses, enjoy the fragrance of flowers, and watch the fluttering wings of bees and butterflies carrying nectar. And during those moments, to spend time with a fairy who would become both friend and teacher, learning wisdom from them—that was a fairy’s childhood.

Fairy society did not favor rigid apprenticeship. Instead, they chose a method that took longer but allowed one to awaken slowly. Within lives of play and joy, they would learn their roles and duties. Because their lifespan differed from humans, such methods had naturally developed.

Later, by learning emotional restraint, they would become adults.

“You really find that fun?”

Her sister pouted as she asked. She was still a young fairy, so unrestrained emotion lingered in her tone.

“If you watch long enough, it feels like that could become anything.”

Shinar replied. And no sooner had she finished speaking than the hammer moved.

Daa-ang.

The hammer struck the metal. In the fairy city, there were specific clans that handled metal. The Naidels, the ones who forged the Spring Blades. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Before being recognized as masters, they would go through a training process, crafting single-edged swords or various tools and weapons. What Shinar was watching now was one such apprentice in the middle of that training.

“If you get too close, sparks will fly.”

One of the apprentices said.

His name was Aden. Shinar’s first love.

Looking back, she wasn’t sure if she liked Aden or the fire he handled. But as a child, Shinar believed she liked Aden. It was a time when she didn’t yet know how to hide emotions.

“Then just make sure they don’t fly.”

“Fire doesn’t move the way I want it to.”

“That’s why you’re still an apprentice.”

“That sounds like a very provocative statement.”

Aden was about the same age as Shinar, though it was certain she had been born earlier.

But unlike humans, fairies didn’t consider a few years’ difference as grounds to call someone brother or sister. Still, Aden’s manner of speaking was more mature than Shinar’s.

Was that maturity because he handled fire? Or was it innate? It wasn’t something she was particularly curious about.

Shinar was born into the royal family, but in fairy society, a king merely represented or protected the other fairies. They weren’t beings who could do whatever they pleased.

In a way, it was a position with duties and responsibilities but no benefits. There was no hierarchy laden with authority. Still, all fairies knew she was of royal blood.

“Lady Kirheis. Why don’t you go get the flower’s permission and make a crown from their bodies and enjoy the scent of grass?”

That was why Aden would joke like this. Shinar merely snorted in response.

A young fairy rolling around among the flowers and grass was akin to a human splashing in warm water. The difference was that fairies enjoyed it far more.

In that sense, Shinar was a very peculiar fairy. Even Aden, who had made fire his craft, would spend his breaks watching swarms of bees among the grass and flowers. But she preferred watching fire to frolicking in the grass.

“What’s so fun about that?”

Her sister grumbled. It was a childish time. Her sister soon left to go about her own business. She didn’t pressure Shinar. As was typical in fairy society, they believed everyone would come to understand the meaning of their life in time.

Shinar gave her a vague wave, then asked Aden:

“Do you know what Igniculus means?”

Daa-ang! Daa-ang!

Several clanging strikes passed before Aden, sweating in front of the furnace, responded.

“Do you think there’s a fairy who doesn’t?”

Fairies couldn't refine metal using moonlight alone.

Naturally, they had forges and had to handle fire. And they needed fuel to burn.

The Woodguards gathered the fuel. The sap and firewood from the tree fairies could keep the flames burning for months without going out—it was one of the mysteries of alchemy.

And Igniculus.

A word seemingly tied to the forge and the smithing clan.

In the language of the continent, it meant a spark or flash.

Fairies live for long spans of time, typically flowing through life like a calm melody without any dramatic falls.

Igniculus, when translated literally, referred to a period of blazing like fire. For one fairy, that could be love. For another, it might be the drive toward a goal.

Fairies were creatures of leisure, but in that moment, they would blaze and burn. During such moments, they would grow and change.

Some fairies described it as a period of transformation, like iron in the forge struck by a hammer.

Before learning emotional restraint—Shinar had liked that word.

Igniculus, the spark.

That was why she later chose Needle, not Naidel, as the name for the sword she would receive. A sword that handled sparks.

Yes, that’s how it had been.

One day, it happened. To the girl who was enthralled by fire, something approached, claiming it would be her secret friend.

At first, it approached as warmth.

Because no one knew of it, no one could prepare. And because no one prepared, no one could react.

Fwoosh.

“Wanna play with me?”

The flame spoke.

Orange flame blazed in the air. To anyone, it looked like a fire spirit.

Some fairies could commune with spirits or ghosts. Shinar had been enamored with flame since she was young. So this wasn’t considered strange. Everyone thought that way.

“That’s amazing.”

After learning emotional restraint, her sister’s tone had become more composed. The same was true for Shinar.

“Yeah. I think so too.”

When she revealed the flame’s presence, her sister responded that way. The warmth became a friend. And one day, that friend became a raging blaze.

The warmth that approached had transformed into a disaster called fire.

It burned everything. Her people, her friends, even the city where she was born and raised.

Grahhhhh—!

As the Woodguards burned to death, the acrid stench rose and stabbed her nose. It was a smell Shinar would never forget for the rest of her life. To fairies, that smell was no different from the scent of burning flesh. When Dryads burned, the smell of burning grass filled the air.

The gates of hell opened in the fairy city.

“Aden.”

“I’ll stop it.”

At some point, Aden had become a full-fledged smith. He charged forward with a sword.

The demon cloaked in fire defeated and killed him.

Before any blisters could form, the flame blackened his entire body.

A fairy’s death came with the smell of grass, flowers, and trees burning all at once.

“Custos Akitos Responsum.”

A fairy skilled in summoning spirits stepped forward to quell the flames—but it was futile.

Water fell like rain to smother the fire, but it wouldn’t be extinguished. Tragedy and despair settled over the fairy city.

Shinar watched as the flames consumed the city.

Five Woodguards burned. Bran was burned halfway but barely survived.

A giant made of fire lifted its head. It was five times larger than a regular fairy and looked around at those blocking its path.

“Because you played with me, I’ll leave now. From now on, I’ll build a home here. Children of wood and flowers, let’s live together forever. I’m what you call a demon.”

Said the demon, feigning affection and warmth. It literally nested in a corner of the city.

There was no doubt who the fairy it called ‘friend’ was.

“A curse.”

Even if fairies learn emotional restraint and know no lies, it doesn’t mean their hearts are pure or strong. Some weak-hearted, broken fairies resented Shinar.

They had lost their children, their friends, their lovers. Shinar couldn’t blame them. No, at that time, she didn’t even think to blame them.

She couldn’t understand most of what was happening.

Why? Why was this happening?

“It’s not your fault.”

Her father cut the thought off firmly.

“Yes. This is just our responsibility.”

Her mother said.

No—it had happened because she was intoxicated by her own flame.

There was a time her heart broke from the guilt. There was a time when she lost her voice and didn’t speak for years.

Kirheis.

Didn’t that mean protector when translated?

Shinar’s parents had a duty to drive the demon out of the city. Her father wielded a bow. Her mother wielded a sword. That year, her mother mastered elemental power and became a fairy knight.

“Daughter. It’s not your fault.”

Her mother repeated her usual words and drew her sword.

Where had the demon that burned everything come from? No one knew.

But it felt like it had come for Shinar. Everyone said so, and Shinar herself felt it too—so it must have been true.

“Cursed fairy.”

“Get out.”

Once a fairy’s heart broke, they didn’t stop blaming her.

And her father and mother, who went to kill the demon, never returned.

“Shinar, you don’t have to live like this. Okay? None of this is your fault.”

Her sister told her to cast off the burden of duty. Then she took up the sword and learned to control elemental energy.

Amid their calm and peaceful lives, a spark flew.

A moment of brilliance like a flash—Igniculus.

Her sister’s name was Nyra Kirheis. She sparked the ember known as talent.

Thus, her sister became a fairy knight and went to slay the demon—and failed.

Shinar had no talent for spirit resonance. All that remained was to train her body.

Back then, even her skill with elemental energy was laughably weak.

“It’s because of you. Everything is your fault.”

The resentment of a fragile fairy pierced her skin and branded itself into her organs.

Her father, her mother, and her sister all died. The demon created a labyrinth, and at the entrance of the labyrinth, her sister’s sword was planted.

Naidel.

The Spring Blade that Nyra had wielded. Her sister had truly been a fairy of spring—like the embodiment of flowers and the scent of grass. Shinar recovered Nyra’s sword.

“No duty binds you. Go out and live your life.”

“If only you leave, it's all over.”

“Don’t do something so foolish, Shinar.”

“Let’s bind ourselves in the chains of duty.”

“Blame won’t change anything. What matters is what comes next.”

“The demon demanded a bride.”

“Shinar?”

“They said they wanted another fairy.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

Many voices had spoken. Shinar had no reply. She simply reminded herself of her duty. In between all that, there was no space for personal dreams, hopes, or wishes.

“Slay the demon.”

The next fairy to become a knight was Arzilla. She led the remaining forces into the city to fight the demon. Shinar was one of them. She entered the labyrinth and saw the demon.

“So it’s you.”

Those were the demon’s words upon seeing her. A monster with reason—what a terrifying existence that was.

“If you run, I’ll hunt the others down one by one, torture them to death, and send them to you as gifts. I’ll pluck out their eyes, rip off their nails, peel their skin, and kill them. Then I’ll giftwrap the remains and deliver them to you. So go on and run. The thrill of imagining that moment—the moment I finally find you and hand you the box—it sets me ablaze with joy. Still, if that doesn’t suit you, maybe you’ll think of another method. I don’t know what that would be.”

The demon’s whispers were cruel. Vicious, wicked, and brutal.

“What I want is for you to be my mate.”

Even if his whispers were full of lies, Shinar had no choice.

Then the demon turned into fire and whispered like [N O V E L I G H T] a friend.

“I’ve thought of a way to save you. Bring me a mate. Someone to take your place.”

A way to fulfill her duty. A means to buy time.

Shinar had to find a new mate and offer them to the demon.

Otherwise, the only thing she could do was offer her stubborn life to buy time for the few fairies left.

Shinar wasn’t a fool. She knew that going to the demon wouldn’t make it spare the others. The only thing she could offer was a temporary delay. And yet, there were no other options. Despair wrapped itself around her shoulders and coiled around her.

Inside that web of despair, Shinar searched for a way.

She left the city and began a journey to find the “mate.”

To be honest, she didn’t truly intend to find one. If she were to lay her heart bare, maybe it was just a short reprieve—a brief joy before the end.

Perhaps she simply wanted to make a memory, right before she danced her final dance with the demon.

Even if she brought a mate, the demon would’ve enjoyed watching her collapse. Even if she failed to find one, the demon would’ve relished watching her despair.

That’s why it granted her a reprieve—a chance to leave.

During that time of reprieve, that grace granted by the demon, by chance... she made a memory.

“Who’s the commander of the 444th platoon?”

She remembers the first moment she saw him. His name was Enkrid.

At first, he was just a slightly odd human. A man worth watching. A man with ridiculous ambitions.

Watching that man press forward... was fun.

“Be careful with fire.”

Fire tends to burn everything away.

When she said that, Enkrid tilted his head, then looked troubled by her teasing joke.

Time passed. The demon’s grace approached its end. Shinar had no choices left.

“Do you really have no intention of marrying me?”

She already knew Enkrid’s answer. A rejection. Even if he had said yes, she would have refused.

“I can’t let this man die.”

In other words, she had nothing left to offer to deceive the demon. The only thing left was to accept the demon’s proposal.

At most, twenty years. At the shortest, five.

She would become the demon’s bride. Eventually, when he tired of her, he would chew her up bones and all.

Until then, she would wait.

A firm and resolute heart—like Will. The blade of Will does not break. It was a fight to endure until the day that blade was drawn.

When something like regret came creeping in, sometimes the whispers of evil spirits would flood her with remorse.

Fairies trained in emotional restraint should not be easily shaken—but the moment she faced the man before her, her heart rocked like a boat in a storm.

A boat meeting the waves can capsize at any time.

Then Enkrid’s voice suddenly pierced through her thoughts.

“Just because you’ve lived long doesn’t mean today is different from any other day.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

Shinar agreed.

The life fairies pursued wasn’t wrong. But when crisis approaches, one must move accordingly. Is it right to stand still and be struck by an arrow you can see coming? Should you remain composed even as you watch the arrow fly toward you?

That’s not how it should be.

If you know, then dodge it—or block it.

When they became aware of the demon’s existence, they should’ve fought with everything they had right then.

“We grew complacent.”

The fairy city had lived a life disconnected from the Demon Realm. They lived quietly and comfortably, bound by only the lightest of restraints. And that life had stripped the fairies of any sense of crisis.

“We shouldn’t have done that.”

They should’ve lived ablaze. Like fire.

Igniculus—they should’ve fought as sparks.

It was only after meeting Enkrid that she could analyze the situation this calmly.

In a life that felt like drowning in a lake made of flame, burning even as she suffocated, she could finally breathe—and with that breath came insight.

“Thanks to that, I’ve come this far.”

She would fight as a spark. She would raise the sword of Will.

But to ignite a spark, a trigger is needed.

You could call it fate—or you could call it Will.

If you believe in fate, you wait for that moment. If you believe in Will, you draw that moment out yourself.

Shinar, with her Will firm, met Enkrid like fate—and her spark ignited.

During their time together, she burned. She awakened her elemental energy.

Now, she had planned to hold her breath and wait with that spark inside her.

“I could have postponed it all.”

She had fooled herself into thinking she had nothing she wanted. But now, someone stood before her—someone who could not be deceived by any lie or trick.

“Did you not enjoy being with me?”

Enkrid asked again.

“Persistent man.”

Unconsciously, Shinar smiled. Memories filled her head.

Friends burned by fire. The city. Her father, mother, and sister who died for her.

Over that sorrow, Enkrid appeared. Rem said nonsense. Ragna got lost. Audin prayed. Kraiss grumbled. Teresa sang.

Elsewhere, Rophod and Pell argued. Lua Gharne stood by Enkrid’s side and rolled Frokk’s bulging eyes.

Like a roof shielding her from a gloomy rain—those were the memories.

Yes. Watching him become a knight made her happy. Even his silly jokes, tea time, meals, sparring, training—they were joyful.

Shinar said inwardly:

“You were spring. The only spring in my life, which had always been winter.”

And that spring now spoke.

“What do you want to do?”

It was a demand. A pressure. Say something—anything.

Shinar had seen what the demon had prepared in this place.

It no longer had vocal cords. All it had left was a body to forge monsters and a blade to cut down enemies.

And so she knew. They could not win. Telling them to leave was the right thing to do.

“I want to spar.”

But sometimes, the body doesn’t obey. When the desire is too strong, the mouth opens on its own. That’s how Shinar’s lips parted.

“I want to sit by a campfire and make stupid jokes.”

What her heart wished for escaped through her mouth.