Chapter 374
Episode 113: Temar’s Fourth Tomb (Part 1)
It was because of faith.
Because she believed that her sister, Lriet, as their queen, would always make the “right choice,” Shil had dropped her sword.
Shil glared at the fallen blade, clenching her teeth. Crimson droplets trickled down from Lriet’s neck.
The fairies who had followed Shil reluctantly lowered their weapons as well. The air was thick with disappointment directed at Shil.
Shil, my little sister.
But Shil said nothing, her eyes fixed only on the sword lying on the ground.
Right now, no matter what I say, it would be hard for you to accept. But I believe that someday, you will understand my choice. Now, go back.
Shil turned away.
As she started to leave, the fairies followed suit, as if resigned to the situation.
Sigh.
Lriet exhaled deeply, gazing toward the forest where Shil and her kin had disappeared. Her sigh was a tangled mix of anxiety and relief.
The relief wasn’t because she had escaped being stabbed by her sister and the fairies’ blades.
Fairy culture is truly amusing. They draw their swords, threatening to kill their queen, yet with just a few words, they simply turn and leave… Heh.
From the shadows of the forest behind Lriet, a figure emerged.
The person’s face was obscured beneath a hood, but the black robe bore the emblem of Runcandel’s Black Sword.
“Rokia.”
Lriet turned and called out the name.
Rokia Ganesto.
She was one of Runcandel’s ten elite knights, a figure unmatched by anyone in Runcandel when it came to pure magic.
In Runcandel—no, in the human world—such a thing was unimaginable. Still, it’s fortunate. If they had truly intended to harm you, not a single one would have survived.
Rokia chuckled softly, causing Lriet to furrow her brows.
“Is this entertaining to you? This situation?”
“Yes, it’s amusing and even a bit cute. Like watching children play at war. Though, I must admit, Lriet, you were impressive not to stop even when the blade touched your neck. Or maybe that’s just how much you trust me?”
“Think whatever you want.”
“To be honest, if that blade had pierced just half a fingernail deeper into your neck, I was ready to wipe them all out immediately. I held back, but if I had killed them, you’d have hated me.”
Rokia smiled gently and continued.
“But it’s better to earn your hatred than the wrath of our clan leader. Don’t do reckless things like this without consulting him. If I hadn’t volunteered to guard you…”
“I never asked for a guard.”
“That’s exactly the problem. That’s why I, being perceptive, followed along. Anyway, if I hadn’t been here and those fleeing fairies had actually stabbed you, and the clan leader had gotten angry… it wouldn’t have ended with just a few traitors dead.”
“Temar is a good man.”
“Of course he is. But would he remain good after losing his own people? The clan leader of Runcandel isn’t some pushover fool. In my opinion, you just put the entire fairy race in danger. Just as your sister said.”
Lriet had no words.
Rokia ruffled her hair affectionately.
“Let’s go back. Oh, and from today onward, you are the steward of Runcandel. The clan leader ordered me to inform you.”
After that day, Shil and the fairies who followed her left the Primordial Forest.
And they were forgotten.
Starting on March 4th, 797, when five fairies were forgotten, it took less than a few years for all fairies in the world to be erased from memory.
Because Runcandel had been defeated.
Though their forms remained in the world, they were no longer truly alive.
Like shadows—dark, strange shapes.
To others, the forgotten fairies appeared as such. Yet no one noticed them. Even if they walked in crowds through bustling cities or passed through wild forests teeming with animals.
No one paid attention to these ghostly fairies.
They were like meaningless passing winds—completely ignored.
Even the fairies themselves, those forgotten, were driven by instinct alone. They couldn’t even communicate with each other.
They couldn’t hear, read, or remember the voices or writings of those who still existed.
Nor could they feel emotions. The forgotten fairies drifted through the void of time as nothing more than visible black air.
To be forgotten was to exist without existing—to have no influence on the world and no way to communicate.
There could be no harsher punishment.
The fairies, along with those crushed by the power of Ziphl, were paying a cruel price.
Oh.
Amidst this endless meaningless time, no one could say how long had passed—
Shil and the fairies heard a voice.
To hear a voice…
What had once been an ordinary, unremarkable experience before being forgotten now opened the eyes of the forgotten fairies for the first time.
Their eyes opened, they saw their darkened forms, consciousness returned, and they understood the terrible situation they were in. A shudder of despair surged through them.
They turned their heads toward the source of the voice—“Oh.”
What appeared before Shil and the fairies was a woman, darker and larger than even their shadowy forms.
“You have so many orphans.”
The woman looked at the fairies with great interest.
Though her face was obscured by darkness, the fairies could feel that she was smiling.
And though they had never met her before—
They somehow knew her name.
“Helluram…” Shil whispered.
The name of the witch she had learned while fulfilling her duty as a fairy recorder before being forgotten.
Helluram smiled with satisfaction. As her laughter continued, Shil and the fairies dared to hope.
Someone recognizes us. Someone who can help us exist again.
It was only natural for the forgotten fairies to cling to hope—even if the one before them was the legendary witch who had brought countless calamities upon the world.
“How did you end up like this?”
“Ziphl erased our existence from the world.”
“Do you feel wronged?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Well… we didn’t commit any crime.”
Shil answered, feeling a sudden wave of shame.
At first, she couldn’t pinpoint what she was ashamed of. She pondered briefly, then found the answer.
She had betrayed her sister and turned her back on her kin who fought against Ziphl.
Facing that truth made her feel suffocated. At times, she wished she had remained forgotten, unable to feel anything at all.
Helluram saw right through Shil’s inner turmoil. She seemed to know everything about how Shil and the fairies had been forgotten.
“Not even worth mocking.”
Despite the insult, Shil and the fairies couldn’t argue.
They just wanted to be seen in a better light. To somehow impress Helluram and be allowed to exist in the world again.
The shame and self-loathing of betraying their queen and kin would eventually fade if only they could exist once more.
“Do you regret it?”
Shil and the fairies nodded.
“First you say you’re innocent, now you say you regret it. I have one question.”
“What is it?”
“Surely, a moment like this will come again. When it does, what choice will shameless ones like you make?”
Helluram locked eyes with Shil.
From her hands flowed magic and dark energy—the power known only to the spirit, the shadow, and their contractors.
Magic and spirit intertwined, forming dozens of bands that wrapped around the fairies.
“Uh, ah…!”
The fairies’ forms began to change.
Their bodies, once dark as shadows, regained their original colors, and their distinctive red hair cascaded down.
Shil and the fairies couldn’t help but cry as they looked at each other. It felt as if they had returned to their true forms after millions of years.
But before the tears could even fall to the ground—
The fairies had to endure another transformation.
“No… this can’t be!”
Their bodies shrank.
Their red hair fell out like the fur of a diseased beast, and their once harmonious faces twisted into monstrous, grotesque shapes.
Limbs contorted unnaturally, and their necks emitted metallic sounds. They looked like decayed, plague-ridden corpses—uglier than ever.
The transformation paused briefly.
“This is your true form.”
Helluram said simply, waving her hand once.
The bands began to move again, and the fairies’ forms shifted once more.
Their bodies shrank to the size of a child’s head, and tiny wings sprouted from their backs. When the wings fluttered, they made a delicate, tinkling sound.
It was a form most people would find adorable. But the fairies felt only humiliation.
“How amusing. You say you’re innocent, you say you regret it, and now you’re filled with nothing but the desire to exist again—and even feel such a luxurious thing as humiliation.”
“What have you done to us?”
“I gave you a chance. A chance to exist again.”
Helluram grasped Shil.
And on her back, she bestowed an especially large pair of wings.
“From now on, you are the king of those. When the moment you regret comes again, I will watch to see what choice you make.”
A moment of regret.
The moment you betrayed your kin and refused to fight Ziphl.
If a situation like that ever arose again, what choice would Shil and the fairies make? That was exactly what Helluram was curious about.
It’s incredibly hard not to forget a lesson once learned.
Helluram said this as he released Shil, continuing his words.
Besides, you’ve become far weaker than before. If you want to survive, you’ll have to think hard and work diligently. Now go.
The fairies didn’t dare meet Helluram’s gaze. No sooner had he spoken than they turned away, fluttering their wings.
And so, they reclaimed their existence and wandered the world once more.
Years passed before they finally found a home in the Wantaramo Forest.
By then, most of the fairies had forgotten nearly all memories of when they were truly fairies.
They had only regained existence by borrowing Helluram’s power; they hadn’t truly reclaimed their “selves.”
It wasn’t just the memories of being real fairies that had faded.
Most of the fairies—except for Shil, or rather, Shila—were even forgetting what Helluram had done for them and the words he had spoken.
Because it was all so dull.
A life without purpose, meaning, or hope was nothing but an endless stretch of boredom. So, when they stumbled upon humans in the forest, they killed them to find some amusement—and that was enough.
Only Shila, as their king, continued to worry about the future.
Shila’s worries only came to an end after a human arrived in Wantaramo Forest to deliver a message from Solderet.