This fairy did not kill Anno.
It was not that the fairy did not want to kill Anno.
Anno was a rabid beast that had invaded his territory. He had no reason not to strike this human down.
But—
Anno was "human."
Humans possessed an instinct for survival.
Guided by that instinct, Anno avoided the fairy's sword.
Though he was no match for the fairy before him, Anno himself was not weak—he was, in fact, quite strong. He would not be killed easily.
"Why are you running?"
Those words were not spoken by the long-haired young fairy. Anno had asked them himself.
After asking that question, even Anno froze.
Why was he running?
He was stronger than those fairies, so he had killed them. This fairy was stronger than him, so wasn't it perfectly natural for this fairy to kill him?
So why was he running?
Because he wanted to live?
Did he want to live too?
No. He was human. Naturally, he should want to live.
"Where do you think you're running to?" the fairy asked again, thrusting his sword at Anno's chest.
Anno snapped back to his senses and quickly retreated, avoiding the strike.
A trace of fear involuntarily entered his gaze as he looked at the fairy.
It was not fear of death, nor fear of anything else.
What Anno feared might have been the collapse of his own self-identity.
How long had he existed?
He had spent more than six months in the Fairy Realm, and before entering it, he had studied Britain's noble etiquette under Merlin for some time.
His memory was excellent. Even now, he could recall everything he had learned back then perfectly.
But now—
Avoiding another strike from the fairy, Anno panted heavily, yet he had no intention of fleeing.
The fairy