Became a Medieval Fantasy Wizard

TL/Editor: raei

Proofreader: Pickhead7

Schedule: 5/week

Illustrations: None.

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After driving away the unholy mystery, Pyra began to act much more familiar with Ian.

It seemed that a kind of camaraderie had formed from facing the same enemy together...

From Ian's perspective, there was nothing to lose.

Pyra was a shaman of the Red Bear tribe and wielded a different kind of influence.

Thus, Ian tried to have as many conversations with Pyra as possible.

“…So, do you really think the Elixir of Life is useless?”

Ian and Pyra exchanged knowledge about the mysteries.

“As far as I know, I don't know what power lies in the heart of a monk, but in the end, isn't the monk themselves the owner of that power?”

“That's right.”

“If the Elixir of Life works through some mysterious force, I believe it requires the voluntary cooperation of the one lending that power.”

“Hmm…”

“Unless Takarion willingly sacrifices himself to truly save the chief, I doubt it will have any proper effect since it's being forced upon him.”

Pyra agreed with Ian's calm logic.

It made sense upon reflection.

The first Elixir of Life was invented by a shaman who wanted to share their life force with others.

Since then, it’s been passed down by word of mouth in the spirit of “If they did it, we should try it too.”

A lot of shamanistic knowledge was inaccurate.

If someone saw an effect, it would be packaged and passed down as knowledge without question.

If there's a tale about a shaman in some village eating pear blossoms to cure stomachaches,

Then pear blossoms become known as a remedy for stomachaches.

The problem is that there’s no way to verify if the shaman really ate pear blossoms to cure their stomachache.

Most stomachaches heal over time anyway, so they just feed the person pear blossoms and wait until it passes.

And then they conclude, “See, pear blossoms are good for stomachaches!”

In fact, most ancient knowledge was of that form.

There weren't enough resources or people to conduct proper experiments, so they often accepted hearsay as truth.

“Ha… if you say so…”

Pyra readily agreed with Ian's opinion.

He had witnessed Ian's skills firsthand and learned about his extensive magical knowledge through deep conversation.

“Actually, I don't really want to make the Elixir of Life either.”

“…?”

“I keep getting bad omens.”

Ian listened to Pyra’s story.

The one who first demanded the Elixir of Life was Ragnar, the chief’s son.

“Since the chief keeps losing strength, he asked me to make him a tonic. But you’ve seen the chief, haven’t you? He's just at an age where it’s natural to lose energy. This isn't something I should meddle with.”

“Hmm, yes, that seemed to be the case.”

Ian understood that part well enough.

In an era where medical technology wasn’t advanced anyway, what could they do about an old man lacking energy?

But that was the thinking of the intellectuals.

People in power like Ragnar didn’t understand the minds of professionals.

You shamans are f*king competent, aren’t you? You do all sorts of weird stuff with mysteries, right? But you can’t heal people? Does that make sense?

When experts say, “It’s not possible!” those in high places often respond, “Why not? Isn’t it just a lack of effort?”

Ian understood Pyra’s hardship.

“Well, even in the Empire, nobles harass wizards for strange reasons.”

In the Empire, there’s a so-called Wizard Rights Protection Act established during the Golden Empire era, so wizards can protect themselves by raising a fuss first.

But here in the land of savages, it seems there’s no such thing as a Shaman Protection Act.

“…I couldn’t foresee the failure of the Great Hunt Festival either. I interpreted you as a symbol of bad luck and failed to detect the appearance of the unholy mystery.”

“Pyra.”

Regrettably, it was all true.

But this didn’t mean Pyra was an incompetent shaman.

Mysteries are inherently fickle and hard to perceive.

Especially the barbaric mysteries of the North, which are even harder for humans to handle. Mistakes are to be expected.

The problem was that Pyra had made consecutive mistakes at the most critical moments.

“I… I must take responsibility for my actions. Or rather, I should obediently follow Ragnar’s words. In his eyes, I’m probably just a quack shaman.”

“…”

“I think I’m past my prime. What use is a shaman who blindly interprets omens out of greed?”

Ian tried to console Pyra.

But that was a gesture that underestimated a Northern shaman.

After saying so much, Pyra let out a bizarre laugh.

A great shaman draws inspiration even from their own mistakes.

“Kehihihik! But Ian! You’ve opened my eyes!”

“Me? I did?”

“Yes! Once I crumbled, everything became clear! I can see exactly what I misinterpreted and what warnings I ignored!”

Ian was genuinely impressed.

Wow, this person has incredible mental resilience.

Most people would have collapsed under such a streak of misfortune.

But Pyra was a shaman.

He could think of both his luck and misfortune as being intertwined with mysteries.

“I was wrong, and you were right! That’s certain!”

“No, Pyra… why would you say that…”

“Because the omen told me so!”

Pyra frantically spread out Arcana cards in front of Ian.

The Tower, the Devil, and the Death card.

“The Tower! This means I made a wrong choice and need to reflect! And that’s exactly what happened!”

“The Devil! I was overconfident in my shamanism and got so caught up in my judgment that I believed only one truth! The cause of that obsession was me!”

“Death! But just as morning comes after night, my foolishness has met its end because of you, Ian! A new future awaits!”

Ian felt like the world was spinning in front of him.

“Is this the omen?”

“Yes! Hrundal had already shown me everything! I just didn’t realize it! Ah, how great is this!”

Pyra stuck his head out of the tent and shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Hrundal!!!”

“…”

I thought he was a calm person.

Turns out he was just as crazy as the wizards.

But I understand.

Those who deal with mysteries often have eccentricities. I’ve seen that many times before.

‘Looks like I’m the sanest one here.’

Ian nodded as he looked at Pyra.

Mystics in this world are all strange.

Except for me.

---

---

Before meeting Ragnar, Pyra spoke to Ian.

“Let’s go find [Hrundal’s Tears].”

“…What?”

“It’s a conclusion I’ve reached after long deliberation. You can do it.”

Pyra calmly explained.

“[Hrundal’s Tears] is a miraculous elixir that Northern people crave.”

“Like that Elixir of Life…”

“Don’t compare it to the Elixir of Life! That’s just a tonic; this is a truly precious medicine!”

After hearing the story, [Hrundal’s Tears] was roughly positioned like Korean wild ginseng.

“Deep in a freezing cave untouched by humans, where the power of nature gathers and condenses into droplets, that’s [Hrundal’s Tears].”

“Uh…?”

Thoughts whizzed through Ian’s head.

A cave, a liquid elixir formed by the concentrated power of nature?

That’s totally…

“Gongcheong Seokyu[1]?”

“Seokyu? What Seokyu? It’s Hrundal’s Tears!”

“If you drink it, does it dramatically boost your internal energy?”

“Internal energy? What’s that?”

Ian stopped rambling there.

In a world with no energy circulation, how could there be Gongcheong Seokyu?

Though he didn’t know exactly what Hrundal’s Tears were, he understood that the Northerners truly considered it a precious elixir.

Like Koreans diligently taking red ginseng and wild ginseng without knowing exactly how it benefits their health.

“What Ragnar wants is a tonic for the chief, not the heart of the monk you’re trying to protect.”

“That’s true.”

If there’s a better tonic than Takarion’s heart, Ragnar wouldn’t insist on opening Takarion’s chest.

“Only those blessed by Hrundal can find Hrundal’s Tears. Ian, disciple of Eredith! You can do it! Climb the holy mountain Gramunt and receive his blessing at his temple! Then he will grant you the remaining Arcana cards! With those, you will find Hrundal’s Tears!”

Although Ian hadn’t said anything, Pyra was already acting as if Ian had found Gongcheong Seokyu… no, Hrundal’s Tears.

It was certainly a good proposal.

After all, Ian needed to find Hrundal’s temple to begin his Arcana magic training.

And Hrundal’s Tears would undoubtedly help in rescuing Takarion.

If there was a problem, it would be if they couldn't find Hrundal’s Tears and ended up making a wasted trip.

But with Pyra, the shaman, so confident, Ian also began to harbor the expectation of “maybe…”

At the same time, he was certain that now was the perfect time to rescue Takarion.

“Alright, let's try to find these Hrundal’s Tears.”

“As expected…!”

“But I have one condition.”

Ian spoke clearly to Pyra.

“Release Takarion first, and I’ll climb the holy mountain with him.”

“The monk? You’re asking to have him released beforehand?”

Pyra quickly understood what Ian was aiming for.

Whether he found Hrundal’s Tears or not, Ian wanted to ensure Takarion's rescue.

It could have been a difficult proposal to accept, considering the efforts of the tribal warriors who had captured Takarion.

But Pyra didn’t overthink it.

“Alright, I’ll talk to Ragnar.”

Pyra was confident that Ian would find Hrundal’s Tears.

Since they would find them anyway, he decided it didn't matter if Takarion was released in advance.

“But Ragnar won’t understand why we’re releasing the monk.”

“Leave that to me.”

After securing Pyra’s promise, Ian went to find Takarion.

Whether the timing was good or bad, a tense atmosphere hung in the air.

“Hey, outsiders. Why don’t you hand over that pig nicely?”

Ragnar was nowhere to be seen.

But the warriors of the Red Bear tribe had surrounded Takarion.

Belenka and Kira stood against the warriors.

“We’ve seen how you treat this friend. And you expect us to hand him back?”

“Haha! You have no idea, but that guy is our tribe’s property! You’re stealing from us, got it?”

Kira’s eyebrows twitched slightly at the warriors’ rough threats.

She was great at acting, but she wasn’t particularly bold.

But Belenka was different.

Without batting an eye, she declared confidently.

“Protecting a monk of Heaven's Faith is a knight’s duty. Calling it theft won’t change that. I have no shame in my actions.”

“What?”

“You’re lucky we’re treating you as guests…!”

The Northerners raised their axes.

This was a place where fists were closer than the law.

Actually, with no courts to speak of, fists were all they had.

No one would blame them for smashing outsiders who got on their nerves!

With an attitude that showed she had nothing to fear, Belenka drew her sword.

“Ah, uh… maybe if I just go over there… it’ll be fine, right?”

“There’s no need for that. Stand tall, Takarion.”

Ian already felt a headache coming on.

Whether knights or savages, both had muscles for brains.

How long had he looked away before a fight broke out?

The only intellectual, Kira, stepped in to mediate.

“You guys. Can’t you at least see who’s coming before you start fighting?”

“…?”

Kira set up the toss.

Now it was Ian's turn to receive.

Ian took a deep breath and steadied himself.

Then, with clear and deliberate enunciation, he shouted with force,

"What is happening to a guest of Hrundal right now!"

Oberon landed on Ian's shoulder with a flap of his wings.

At the appearance of the wizard who travels with a crow, the northern warriors flinched and hesitated.

"That man..."

"The outsider who rebuked the shaman Pyra..."

Rumors had already spread far and wide that Ian had 'defeated' Pyra.

In fact, since they had never fought, it was difficult to discuss winning or losing.

Isn't it human nature to want to know who won when two people are shouting at each other, asking 'so who won?' when people are arguing?

Ian, having defeated the eccentric shaman Pyra, must certainly be a remarkable person.

"What, what do you mean? This pig is a guest of Lord Hrundal?"

"Pig, you say. Lord Hrundal would be delighted to hear such language. Oh nameless warrior."

Ian subtly showed an Arcana card from his pocket.

Even if the warriors are ignorant of mysteries, they recognize the tools of a shaman.

"Lord Hrundal!"

The warrior quickly covered his mouth, turning pale.

But blocking words won't make things okay when they're not.

Ian smoothly created a diversion.

"Listen well! This man is a guest of Lord Hrundal, recognized by him!"

"That man is Lord Hrundal's guest?"

Why would such a man be a guest of Lord Hrundal?

Well, because Ian said so, that's why!

Ian is well-versed in mysteries, but the warriors are not.

No matter what Ian claims, they can't refute it!

It would be a different story if Pyra appeared splendidly and shouted, 'Enough with the nonsense! Sky Worshipper!'

Sadly for the northerners, that shaman is now on Ian's side...

"Yes! Since he is a distinguished guest, treat him with honor!"

When Ian shouted, the northerners sneaked glances and scurried away.

Definitely going to tattle to Pyra.

But it was useless.

That shaman firmly believed that Ian had been chosen by Hrundal.

---

[1. raei: sorry I have no idea what this translates to in english, direct translation is pure stone oil but maybe in novels it'd be an elixir? It is a cliché in martial arts novels, often described as a milky liquid that accumulates in caves and drinking a drop can completely heal a body and also has the effect of raising one's internal energy to the next level.]

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