Became a Medieval Fantasy Wizard

Chapter 104

TL/Editor: raei

Proofreader: Pickhead7

Schedule: 5/week

Illustrations: None.

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Gunnar was astonished as he watched Ian toss a fireball as casually as one might throw a snowball.

He wasn't the only one that was shocked.

[It's hot! So hot!]

The troll, too, was caught off guard by the sudden blaze.

"Ian! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine! This is fun. Kira, wanna try?"

"Uh, um?"

Surprised, Kira had even forgotten her act as a dignified wizard.

However, she quickly regained her composure.

She didn't fully understand why Ian's hands weren't burning.

She vaguely guessed it was with the aid of some supernatural being.

'Mystery.'

To the average person, an astrologer's ability to predict the future appeared extraordinary.

Similarly, Ian’s ability to grasp fireballs with his bare hands seemed utterly bizarre.

Asking how it was possible was pointless.

It was incomprehensible and unreplicable, hence deemed mysterious, and the art of managing this mystique was known as magic.

[Burn it! Burn it all down!]

Kira heard a voice whispering in her ear, like an auditory hallucination.

The mystery of the flames swirled around her.

In that moment, Kira was certain—the flames would never harm her.

"Damn!"

Ian had ignited a clod of earth, which Kira then firmly grasped.

As Kira followed Ian’s lead and held the fireball in her hand, Gunnar stared at the wizards with shocked eyes.

"My god..."

Ian and Kira, like children in a snowball fight, hurled the flaming clod at the troll.

The fireball Ian threw smashed into the troll's face.

Boom!

Unable to endure the wizards' torment, the troll eventually fled into the blizzard, crying.

"Sh*t. Should have put a rock in it."

Ian licked his lips in disappointment.

Gunnar, still trembling, stuttered,

"Are your... hands okay?"

"Hands? Oh, they're fine."

As Ian waved his hands perfectly fine, Gunnar felt as if he had been tricked by a fairy's prank.

Curious, he touched a remaining ember.

"Ouch!"

It was f*cking hot.

"Hey! What are you doing? Are you crazy?"

"No... since you just picked up fire with your bare hands... I thought it wouldn't be hot..."

Ian, incredulous, retorted,

"Do you think you and I are the same?"

Ian was a traditional wizard who had undergone years of rigorous training under Eredith.

Having recently advanced his fire magic skills, handling a fireball with bare hands was hardly a notable feat for him.

"Wizards... are amazing..."

In the North, unlike the Empire, there were no systematically trained wizards—only shamans and prophets.

"That being said, quite a spectacle of a welcome."

Ian remarked, seeing the troll rampage in the snowfield, feeling the reality of being in the northern lands.

"Let's push ourselves a bit today."

No one opposed Gunnar’s suggestion.

They had thought the North was similar to the Empire, but they hadn't expected to encounter monsters immediately.

"There weren't usually this many monsters."

"Usually?"

"Yeah. Trolls live in the forests and rarely leave their territory. But for one to leave on its own..."

Ian crossed his arms and said,

"Could it be a lack of food?"

"Probably."

The forest's food situation must be so dire that trolls need to venture out of their territory to hunt.

'The Northerners said they had a bad hunting season.'

Both the southern and northern tribes had failed miserably in this year's hunt.

Ian looked up at the snowy mountains swirling with snow.

What could be happening beyond those mountains?

"Here we are! Ian!"

Gunnar’s carriage was heading towards a village surrounded by a wide fence.

It was the village of the Sky Claw Tribe.

---

---

The Sky Claw Tribe is a member of the Okaha tribal coalition.

Located at the very southern edge of the north, they were the most detached from conflicts and wars.

Because of this, the Sky Claw Tribe was more amiable and sociable compared to other northerners.

They readily welcomed outsiders, taking great pride in this as a tribal virtue.

...At least, that’s what Ian had heard.

"Grandfather! I'm here!"

"Gunnar. You've returned."

Ian followed Gunnar as he walked through the village.

The village was lined with huts made from animal skins.

Every yard had skins drying, and children were busy playing and tearing into jerky with dogs.

At first glance, it looked like any ordinary, peaceful village.

But Ian could feel it—the piercing stares of locals wary of outsiders!

"Welcome, wizard of the Empire. I am Madagal, the priest of the Sky Claw Tribe."

"Ian Eredith."

As Ian and Madagal greeted each other, the tribe members peeked and stared.

Aware of their gazes, Madagal suggested,

"Hmm. Let’s head to the temple for now."

Madagal led Ian to what they called a ‘temple’.

...It was a hut full of holes.

The chilly wind blew through it as if there was no need for air conditioning.

It was f*cking cold.

"[Wind.]"

"[What do you want, human?]"

"[Could you blow a bit more gently?]"

"[I really hate feeling stifled. But okay, just for a bit.]"

As soon as Ian entered, he used magic to block the wind.

Madagal was briefly taken aback as Ian murmured in a strange language, but when the cold wind stopped as if by magic, he couldn’t hide his admiration.

"Wow. Is this the [magic] of the Empire? Truly fascinating!"

"It’s nothing special. The wind is just in a good mood today and listened."

Ian downplayed it, but to Madagal, it seemed an incredibly impressive skill.

Where else in the world can a human ask favors of the wind!

Even the barbarian shamans handled the forces of nature, but not in the clean, sophisticated way Ian did.

No wonder Maronius was known as a genius wizard.

Gunnar had seen Ian's magic several times but was still amazed.

A truly unique guest had come from the Empire.

"I heard from the monastery. They said the [Eternal Egg] has hatched?"

"What did you say?"

"Ah. That’s Old Northern for you. It means 'Eternal Egg'."

Madagal rummaged through a shelf and pulled out a piece of leather.

This was the paper for northerners.

Northerners wrote their records on treated leather pieces in the Old Northern language.

"Yes. When I was young, the Sky Claw Tribe gave the Eternal Egg to Monk Isilla."

"What exactly is this Eternal Egg?"

Madagal explained plainly.

"It's the egg of a creature called a phoenix."

The phoenix is known to live forever.

It is an entity made purely of natural energy, without a physical body, and when its vitality wanes, it returns to an egg to regain strength and then hatches again.

"Wait a minute."

Ian took the baby phoenix from Kira.

"Peep! Peep!"

The phoenix looked at Ian with innocent eyes, oblivious to anything...

But according to Madagal, this creature has lived for hundreds, thousands of years?!

"[Do you understand Maronius’ language?]"

"Que?"

"[Que my ass.]"

Ian tried to recall.

Come to think of it, hadn’t he heard some mumbling right before the egg hatched in the baron’s castle?

"Don’t push too hard. It probably doesn’t understand you."

"What, you're saying it's a reincarnated being? It’s on its N-th life and it doesn’t understand Maronius’ language?"

"According to the legends, a phoenix only gains full consciousness once it discards its physical form."

"What's that supposed to mean..."

"Having a physical form is like being in a deep sleep for them."

It was an absurd notion.

A monster that only fully awakens by dying?

However, it was a tale only possible because the being had no physical body.

"So when does it die?"

The question seemed odd.

But Madagal answered nonchalantly.

"It wakes up whenever it wants to."

"Hmm..."

Ian understood why the phoenix had not eaten anything so far.

Since it was destined to die, there was no need for food.

"But it seems like it might wake up soon. The fact that it came all this way with your help indicates that."

Madagal believed in the miraculous nature of the phoenix.

The phoenix had long been a creature revered by the northerners.

He thought it wouldn’t have awakened in Ian’s hands without a reason.

"...Perhaps it's related to the troubles that have befallen the north."

That's when it happened.

A loud noise came from outside, and a group of people burst in.

"Old man! The Sky Fighters are here?"

"Oh no."

Madagal spoke with a troubled voice.

"Ian. Stay here for a moment. I’ll go welcome the guests..."

But it was already too late.

Sturdy men were trampling the carpet with their muddy boots.

"..."

Belenka's eyebrows twitched.

Though humble, this place was a sanctuary of Heaven's Faith.

If there was a priest and preparations to serve God, it indeed was a temple.

Yet these barbarians showed no respect for the deity.

"Gregory! What the hell are you doing!"

"Shut it, old fart."

The barbarian named Gregory kicked a desk over.

Bibles and leather-bound scriptures clattered loudly to the ground.

"Gregory!"

Gunnar glared at the barbarian Gregory with blazing eyes.

Gunnar was a simple man who believed in Heaven's Faith, but he was also a barbarian with northern blood.

Gunnar yelled as he lunged at Gregory.

Gregory mercilessly struck Gunnar.

Thump!

Gunnar fell, spitting blood, with his teeth scattered on the floor.

"A greenhorn still wet behind the ears."

Gregory strode towards Gunnar.

But he could not continue. A black-haired young man blocked his path.

"Stop. Back off."

"What?"

"I said, back off."

Gregory thought the black-haired young man must be insane.

Looking delicate and pretty like a girl.

How could such a puny guy talk big in front of him?

"You know who you're being cocky to..."

The black-haired young man.

Ian took a step towards Gregory and said,

"Then. Do you know who I am?"

In that moment, Gregory's eyes met Ian’s.

Eyes frozen with cold fury.

Yet beyond that, there lurked a kind of madness that seemed to wriggle like a monster under a frozen river, difficult to understand.

'...What the f*ck is this guy?'

"Back off now."

Chills ran down Gregory's body, and he found himself stepping back involuntarily.

Humans feel fear towards beings they cannot understand.

Ian, who dealt with mysteries, could create an aura that ordinary people could not understand.

Ian was a wizard shrouded in mystery.

"This... bastard!"

Belatedly, Gregory realized that he had actually stepped back as Ian had commanded.

Retreating in the face of an enemy was a disgrace to a warrior!

Almost reflexively, Gregory swung his fist towards Ian.

He didn’t strike out of a desire to hit.

He was threatened, and he wanted to deny the fact that he had been momentarily overpowered.

But the fact remained that he had thrown a punch—

And that prompted Belenka to act immediately.

Thump!

Belenka swung her scabbard, striking Gregory.

"Argh!"

Gregory screamed as he fell to the ground.

"God is watching. Do not act rashly."

Belenka spoke softly.

Gregory's companions hesitated.

Belenka was ready to draw her sword at any moment.

If they attacked, a bloodbath would ensue.

"Damn... these outsiders...!"

"Calm down, Gregory. They brought a phoenix from the Empire..."

"Shut up! Old man! Stop spouting nonsense!"

Gregory shouted angrily.

"You Sky Fighters! Because of these Empire bastards, the Ice God is angry! And yet the old man casually entertains these Imperials!"

"..."

"Damn it! If you have any sense, stop making sacrifices to the Sky God! Unless you want the entire tribe to starve to death!"

Gregory pointed his finger at Ian.

"And you! Take the hint and go back to the Empire! We don't have a single piece of meat to feed you!"

Gregory stormed off.

Ian sighed deeply as he looked around the chaotic room.

"We're clearly not welcome here."

Priest Madagal was at a loss and clearly apologetic.

"I... I will apologize on their behalf."

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