Fireballs Like Snowballs
Watching Ian pick up a blazing fireball and hurl it like a snowball, Gunnar panicked. But he wasn't the only one taken aback.
[H-Hot! It's hot!] The troll was just as flustered by the sudden firebolt.
"I-Ian! You okay?"
"Yeah! I'm fine! This is fun. Wanna try, Kira?"
"Uh, yeah?"
Kira was so shocked she'd forgotten her haughty mage act. But she quickly pulled herself together. She didn't know the exact reason why Ian's hand wasn't burning—only that it had to be help from some being beyond human comprehension.
Mystery. Just as a fortune-teller's ability to predict the future looks miraculous to ordinary eyes, Ian grabbing fireballs barehanded was pure freakishness to normal folk. Questions like "how is that possible?" were pointless. It was incomprehensible and impossible to imitate, hence called a mystery, and the art of wielding it was dubbed magic.
[Burn them! Burn them all!] Kira heard a whisper in her ear like a hallucination. The mystery of flame swirled around her. In that moment, she knew: the fire would never harm her.
"Hya!"
Kira snatched the ignited peat clump that Ian had lit. As both mages gripped fireballs, Gunnar stared at them in horror.
"By the gods..."
Ian and Kira flung the burning peat at the troll like kids in a snowball fight. Ian's fireball smashed into the troll's face.
Kuooooh!
Unable to endure the mages' torment(...), the troll finally fled into the blizzard, bawling.
"Tch. Should've stuffed rocks inside before throwing."
Ian smacked his lips in regret. Gunnar stammered in a still-shaking voice.
"Y-Your... hands okay?"
"Hands? Yeah. Fine."
Ian waved his unharmed hand, leaving Gunnar feeling like he'd been toyed with by a fairy. Just to check, Gunnar touched the remaining embers.
"Hot!"
It was scalding.
"Hey! What the hell! You nuts?"
"No... You grabbed fire barehanded like it was nothing... Thought it wouldn't burn..."
Ian shot back in disbelief.
"You think you're me?"
Ian was a proper mage trained under Eredis for years. Now with his Pyrokinesis leveled up, grabbing fireballs barehanded was kid stuff.
"Mages... are amazing..."
The North had no systematically trained mages like in the Empire. Shamans and prophets filled the role instead.
"Anyway, what a rowdy welcome."
Seeing the troll rampaging in the snowfield made Ian truly feel he'd set foot in the North.
"Let's push hard today."
No one objected to Gunnar's suggestion. Ian had thought the North and Empire were much the same, but meeting monsters right away? Unexpected.
"Monsters weren't usually this common."
"Usually?"
"Yeah. Trolls live in forests and rarely leave their territory. For one to come out on its own..."
Ian crossed his arms.
"Short on food?"
"Probably."
The forest's food situation must be dire enough for it to hunt outside its turf.
'Northerners said hunting season was a bust.'
Both southern and northern tribes had come up empty this year—a disaster.
Ian looked up at the snow-swept mountains. What was happening beyond those peaks?
"Here! Ian!"
Gunnar's wagon headed to a village ringed by a wide fence. The Sky Harpoon Tribe's home.
The Sky Harpoon Tribe is part of the southern Okaha Tribal Alliance. Located at the southernmost edge of the North, it's the most isolated from conflicts and wars.
Thus, Sky Harpoon folk are milder and more sociable than other northerners. They warmly welcome outsiders, seeing it as tribal pride.
...Or so the stories went.
"Grandpa! I'm back!"
"Gunnar. You've returned."
Ian followed Gunnar through the streets. Huts of beast hides lined the way. Every yard had hides drying; kids tore into jerky while playing with dogs.
So far, it looked like a peaceful village. But Ian could feel it: piercing glares wary of outsiders!
"Welcome. Empire mage. I am Madagal, priest of the Sky Harpoon Tribe."
"Ian Eredis."
As Ian and Madagal greeted each other, tribesfolk peeked suspiciously.
Madagal, aware of the stares, cleared his throat.
"Ahem. Let's head to the temple first."
Madagal led Ian to the "temple."
...It was a drafty hut full of holes. Wind whistled through like AC on blast. Freezing.
"Wind, be still."
"What's up, human?"
"Could you blow a little gentler?"
"I hate stuffy places, but okay, just for a bit."
⟨ Aerokinesis ⟩
The moment Ian entered the te?mp?le?, he blocked the wind with magic. Madagal blinked at the strange mutterings, but as the draft vanished like a lie, he couldn't hide his awe.
"Ooh! Is this Empire magic? Incredible!"
"Nothing special. Wind was in a good mood today and listened well."
Ian downplayed it, but to Madagal, it was absurdly impressive. Who else could ask the wind for favors? Barbarian shamans wielded nature's forces too, but not so cleanly or elegantly. No wonder Maronius was hailed as a genius.
Gunnar had seen Ian's magic plenty, yet still marveled. What an odd guest from the Empire.
"Heard from the monastery. The Egg of Eternity hatched?"
"What?"
"Ah, old northern tongue. Means Egg of Eternity."
Madagal rummaged a shelf and pulled out a hide scrap. Northerners' paper.
[Egg of Eternity]
They recorded in old northern on treated hides.
"Yes. When I was young, Sky Harpoon gave the Egg of Eternity to monk Isila."
"What's this Egg of Eternity? Exactly?"
Madagal said plainly.
"Egg of a creature called the phoenix."
Phoenixes were said to live forever. No flesh—just pure natural essence. When energy waned, they reverted to egg form to recharge and hatch anew.
"Wait, hold up."
Ian snatched the baby phoenix from Kira.
"Cheep! Cheep!"
The phoenix gazed innocently at Ian, clueless... But per Madagal, this thing had lived centuries, millennia?!
"You understand Maronius language, right?"
"Kyuu?"
"Kyuu my ass."
Ian racked his brain. Come to think of it, back at the baron's castle before hatching, he'd heard faint mutterings?
"Don't push it. Probably doesn't understand you yet."
"No, isn't it reincarnated? Nth life, and can't speak Maronius?"
"Legend says phoenixes gain full consciousness only after shedding flesh."
"What does that..."
"Having a body is like sleep for them."
Ridiculous. A monster that fully awakens only upon death? But possible since it lacked a true body.
"So when does it die?"
Odd question, but Madagal answered casually.
"When it wants to wake up."
"Hm..."
Ian got why the phoenix hadn't eaten. No need if it'd die soon anyway.
"But it'll wake soon. Coming here via your hand proves it."
Madagal trusted the phoenix's divinity. Northerners revered it. No way it'd hatch from Ian's hand randomly.
"...Maybe tied to the North's troubles."
Then—uproar outside. A group burst in.
"Old man! Heard sky-worshippers are here?"
"Oh dear."
Madagal said awkwardly.
"Ian, stay here a moment. I'll greet the guests..."
Too late. Burly men trampled the carpet with muddy boots.
"..."
Belenca's eyebrow twitched. Shabby or not, this was a Celestial Faith temple. Priest present, ready for worship—it counted. Yet these barbarians showed zero reverence.
"Gregory! What is this?!"
"Shut it, geezer."
The barbarian Gregory kicked the desk. Scriptures and hide records crashed noisily to the floor.
"Gregory!"
Gunnar glared murderously. Devout Celestial Faith follower, but northern blood ran hot too. He roared and charged.
Gregory backhanded him mercilessly.
Thwack!
Gunnar spat blood and crumpled. Shattered teeth scattered.
"Punk with no dry blood on his head."
Gregory strode toward him. But he couldn't advance.
A black-haired youth blocked the way.
"Stop. Back off."
"What?"
"Said back off."
Gregory thought the pretty-boy had lost it. Delicate as a girl, barely a fist's distance—daring to mouth off?
"You know who I am and still—"
The black-haired youth—Ian—stepped closer.
"Then. Do you know who I am?"
Their eyes met. Frozen rage in Ian's gaze. Beyond it, like a monster writhing beneath iced river—madness hard to fathom.
'...What the hell? This guy?'
"Back off. Now."
Chills ran through Gregory; he stumbled back unconsciously. Humans fear the incomprehensible. Ian, wielder of mysteries, exuded an otherworldly aura. A mage cloaked in the arcane.
"Y-You bastard!"
Realizing he'd retreated, Gregory flushed—cowardice before an enemy shamed a warrior! Reflexively, he swung at Ian. Not to hit, just to deny being overwhelmed.
But the swing was real—and triggered Belenca.
Thwack!
Belenca whipped her sheathed sword into him.
"Grah!"
Gregory screamed and fell.
"The gods watch. Mind your manners."
Belenca said lowly. His comrades froze. Her hand hovered on her hilt, ready. Attacking now meant bloodshed.
"Tch... You outsiders...!"
"Calm down, Gregory. They brought the phoenix from the Empire..."
"Shut up! Old man! Tell 'em to quit yapping!"
Gregory bellowed furiously.
"You sky-worshippers! Empire scum! That's why the Ice God rages! And you're cozying up to them!"
"..."
"Damn it! If you had sense, stop sky-god sacrifices! Unless you want the whole tribe starving!"
Gregory jabbed a finger at Ian.
"And you lot! Good advice—go back to the Empire! No spare meat for you!"
Gregory stormed out. Ian sighed at the wrecked room.
"Definitely not welcomed."
Priest Madagal was mortified.
"I... apologize on their behalf."