The Wandering Shaman's Prize
While walking the forest path, Isaac reflected on the events he'd endured. Chasing a wolf into the woods and encountering what must have been a spirit... Misjudging his opponent and getting cocky, only to be subdued. Running his mouth and feeling the cold edge of death from Skadi...
'Early on, I really thought my life was over.'
Still, her misunderstanding had eventually cleared up, and thanks to that, he'd learned profound shamanic arts. He harbored no grudges or regrets. Wandering shamans like him were the type to risk their lives for a chance to learn new spells, after all.
And it wasn't just his shamanic skills that had grown. Isaac fiddled with the ice crystal in his pocket and grinned.
'Lord Wendigo sure has a big heart. If only all spirits were like that, how easy life would be.'
A shiver ran through him as the cool mysticism coursed from his fingertips. It was only half an ice crystal, but even that fragment was extraordinary to Isaac—a treasure far too precious for a wandering shaman.
Shamans contracted with spirits to access greater mysticism. Gathering and refining the mysticism embedded in nature had its limits when it came to wielding higher-level spells. But with this ice crystal, he could surpass those limits.
Of course, once the mysticism inside was depleted, he'd have to hunt for spirits again... but
'If I can't grow enough to contract a spirit after a stroke of luck like this, that's on me.'
Isaac didn't deny that the ice crystal was a fortunate windfall. If he couldn't rise to greatness as a shaman despite it, then he simply wasn't cut out for it.
He fondled the other ice crystal in his opposite pocket, pondering. Should he... use them both?
'...No matter how I look at it, that's overkill.'
He'd never contracted a spirit himself, but among wandering shamans, Isaac was fairly capable. Otherwise, how could he have sensed Skadi's worries and resolved her problems?
Thanks to that talent, he'd assisted contracted shamans a few times and observed them handling the mysticism granted by their spirits. He was certain the mysticism in this ice crystal exceeded what they'd used for their spells.
'Better to use one to gather materials for spell research.'
Sometimes, you had to accept a small loss to aim higher. Isaac decided on the first tribe he'd visit outside the forest—one perfectly suited for this.
* * *
After three days and nights of travel, Isaac arrived at the city of the Freyr tribe. Northerners rarely formed communities large enough to call cities, but the Freyr were an exception—a legendary tribe among their kind.
'Every northern shaman passes through here at least once.'
Isaac gazed up at the statue in the city center. It depicted a hooded woman raising a staff—the founder and hero of the Freyr tribe, the great shaman Freya.
Legends said she'd contracted four spirits in her lifetime, thanks to her unmatched eloquence and skill...
'But she couldn't stop there. Her hubris led her to seek a fifth, and the spirits betrayed her.'
Like most heroes, Freya met a tragic end. Still, contracting four spirits was an undeniable feat. Many who heard her tale dreamed, "I'll be the second Freya!" But not Isaac.
'I'll never pull something that reckless.'
In his view, Freya had talent but was a fool. Contracting even two spirits guaranteed wealth and glory—yet she'd ruined it all with greed. Isaac had no intention of becoming that arrogant madwoman.
Especially after meeting Skadi and Wendigo, who wielded immense power yet lived simply.
He passed the statue and entered the city's pride and lifeline: the shamans' street. Wild-eyed wanderers from forests and mountains hawked their trophies.
"Rare herbs and insects from the world's edge!"
"This pelt's from the fiercest wolf in my mountain..."
The Freyr city was a paradise for shamans, drawing every mysticism-tinged item from the region thanks to their founder's fame. Most were useless, though—hunters and herbalists lacked the Spirit Eye to detect true mysticism. They peddled based on odd looks or foul smells, hoping for the best.
'A few are decent... but the rest is junk.'
Judging there was nothing worth his time, Isaac pushed to the street's end, where a massive mansion loomed. Tattooed warriors, their bodies etched with spell-infused markings, guarded the entrance with menacing auras.
As Isaac approached, they glared.
"This is the abode of Syr, descendant of Freya and shaman of the Freyr tribe. State your business."
"I'm Isaac, a wandering shaman. I've come to auction an item any shaman would covet."
The guards didn't budge—impostors could claim the title too. Isaac sighed, awakening the spell on his cloak. Wolfish agility wrapped his body as he drew his staff and thrust it at a guard's throat.
"!"
Only then did the guard notice the staff. He prided himself on superhuman eyesight from Syr's tattoos, yet...
'No ordinary shaman!'
"Our apologies! Too many frauds impersonating shamans lately..."
"This city's never been short on frauds. Now step aside."
"Yes, sir!"
Isaac pocketed his staff and entered. Thick smoke and dim light blurred the interior, but he stayed calm. His Spirit Eye pierced the haze, following glowing mysticism to a door at its end.
"This is a lightning-struck lacquer tree branch—perfect for thunder, poison, or plant spells..."
"A black rooster ideal as a spirit offering! One'll soothe their wrath far easier!"
The mansion's ground floor was a bustling market where dozens of shamans traded spell components—for silver, gold, barter, or knowledge. Isaac smiled at the spectacle.
Normally, he'd dive in to learn a new spell, but
'Not today.'
Confidently, he headed deeper, drew the ice crystal in the central hall... and was ambushed by a leaping shaman.
Expecting it, Isaac swung his staff. A blade of frost erupted, slicing the attacker. No wound remained, but every cut froze solid. As the shaman writhed on the floor, heart iced over, Isaac glared at the crowd with a savage expression.
"Any other idiots wanna end up like this moron?"
Onlookers retracted their killing intent with tsks, though greed dripped from their eyes. They stared at the ice crystal, instincts screaming of its extraordinary mysticism, rank be damned.
"Hand it over, and I'll teach you every spell I've ever learned!"
"Who wants your garbage spells? Take my hoard of materials and treasures instead!"
Impatient shamans brawled among themselves, vying to trade before Isaac could speak. He stayed unfazed—this was par for the course here. These spell-obsessed folk wouldn't hesitate to grovel for advancement.
But his target wasn't among the hasty ones.
Clap!
A clap echoed, and chaos halted. Enraged shamans apologized and parted like the sea. A golden-haired beauty strode through.
Isaac swallowed dryly—not mesmerized, but tense. She was Syr: Freyr tribe shaman, de facto ruler, Freya's blood heir.
She approached with a smile, her seductive rose scent teasing his mind, but the chill from his staff kept him sharp.
"Lady Syr, please step back."
"Oh, Isaac? Resisting my charm... You've improved since last time."
Amused, she retreated a step. Isaac eyed her briefly, then raised the ice crystal.
"Auction starts now. As always, the most enticing offer wins."
"What do you want?" an elder shaman asked.
Isaac nodded. "Spell research materials and silver, mostly. Spells are fine, but nothing below my current level."
Familiar shamans smacked their lips at his growth—why gain such a treasure only after leveling up? Lesser shamans withdrew in regret; renowned northern ones raised hands with bids, mostly silver or spells. Materials were always scarce.
One had no such shortage. Syr offered leisurely,
"Take whatever you want from my warehouse—silver, materials, anything."
"Damn it! Syr, even if it's your hut—"
"Of all days, she had to be here!"
Jeers and curses flew, but Syr ignored them. Jealous? Open your own market!
Isaac, who'd waited for her, smiled. "Swear it on your spells?"
"Of course. I swear on all mysticism and my arts."
A spell-bound oath was unbreakable. Breakers lost their spiritual essence, forever spell-less—a fate worse than death.
Isaac handed over the crystal cautiously. Syr snatched it, mocking the crowd.
"No sharing, even with those jealous glares~ Oh, Isaac."
"Yes?"
Tension eased by the smooth deal, he responded lightly—and regretted it instantly.
Syr smirked slyly. "Where'd you get such a treasure? And you've leveled up fast these past months... Find a dead shaman's hut?"
'This damn woman...'
Isaac scowled. Syr feigned innocence, but he saw through it. Shamans' eyes gleamed predatorily.
'One'll sniff out the truth. Hiding it won't help...'
Shamans weren't peaceful. Kidnapping a "good" one for secrets? Routine.
'Lord Spirit didn't warn against it... And the truth'll come out fast anyway.'
Trace his path? Trivial for clever shamans.
'Better reveal it here—they'll be too busy rushing to the forest.'
Isaac spilled his tale truthfully—they'd detect lies anyway.
"A kind spirit? Must've passed as truth 'cause it's too absurd to be a joke."
"Maybe a spirit's geas. Can't discern truth from spells then."
"Still... rewarding generously? No ordinary spirit."
"......"
Isaac swallowed a growl with a sigh. Even he barely believed it: a spirit assigning tasks fairly and rewarding properly?
'But it's true. What can I do?'
"Such things at the world's end..."
"Ahem, I'm off—sudden errand came up."
"Hey! Wait, me too!"
Shamans fled like the tide. No time for trades—grab what you could and head to the forest!
Isaac sighed at the exodus.
'Hope none try scamming Lord Spirit.'
He glanced at Syr, who hadn't bolted like the rest. Maybe her skill kept her from foolish greed...
"If it's a spirit who favors and cherishes beautiful women..."
'She's done for too.'
Isaac shook his head at her obvious scheming.
* * *
Wendigo's hunch matched Isaac's. A month after Isaac left, Geron approached with a troubled look, bearing a message.
"Lord Spirit, a message arrived. But it's... odd."
"Outsiders coming?"
Wendigo, savoring Skadi's secret sauce-glazed pork ribs, asked. Geron nodded.
Wendigo frowned. He'd warned Geron outsiders might come soon—why the sour face?
"I figured it was about time."
"Well..."
Geron grimaced, producing multiple messages.
Yes, multiple.
"Reports from outlying villages: shamans from outside have settled in, demanding to see you..."
"......"
Wendigo froze mid-bite, dumbfounded.