Mysteries Lurk Within Humanity
An easily overlooked fact: mysteries flow even in humans. Why? The answer is simple. Because humans harbor unknown realms they can't perceive or comprehend. Take the soul, for instance. Do spiritual beings truly exist? If so, how can we prove it? Or superpowers. Can humans wield mysterious forces that transcend their innate limits? Things like telepathy, clairvoyance, or precognition? If possible, what is the principle behind them?
Someone who thinks, "Souls? Nah, when people die, they just turn into bug food!" wouldn't mesh with mysteries at all. Ironically, Ian—once a modern man—believed in them more fervently than anyone in this medieval fantasy world. Why? He'd conversed with them directly! He'd seen them with his own eyes and exchanged greetings in the Maronius Language. There was no way he'd deny their existence.
That's why Ian quickly realized the grotesque mystery before him stemmed from none other than a human. It was a monster born when human negative emotions gained power in the realm of mysteries.
"Ha, haha...! You little punk! Starting to get it now, huh? I am Paira, the shaman blessed by Hrun Dal himself!"
"Right! In the Empire, they call shamans mages, yeah? You're an Empire kid mage! What're you gonna do now? Show me that amateur skill of yours!"
Ian took a deep breath and tensed his body. If his focus slipped even a little, he'd puke up everything he'd eaten. The rippling mystery. The swirling emotions. The wandering will and destructive instincts...!
Even faced with the horrific mystery of Jushura Paira—something hard to even glance at—this fool had no clue what was wrong. One of two things: either Paira was a psycho psychopath crazy enough to wield that kind of mystery, or he'd lost his judgment from getting high on its negative emotions.
Ian prayed it was the latter. The former had no hope of redemption, but the latter still did.
"You dog-shit...!"
"...What?"
"You dog-shit shaman bastard! You don't even know what mystery you're wielding, and you dare call yourself one?!"
Ian ground his teeth and yelled.
"How cute, thrashing around like that! This is the mystery Lord Hrun Dal sent me..."
Ian cut Paira off immediately. No time for chit-chat. The longer this dragged, the worse it'd get.
"First off, this ain't a mystery you summoned. It's a poor lost one dragged out by your negative emotions!"
"Haha! What bullshit..."
"I don't know what you did! But you definitely opened a door, and that thing got sucked in through the crack!"
Ian was a proper mage, trained rigorously by Eredis for over seven years. When it came to mysteries, he had rock-solid knowledge.
Mysteries weren't limited to natural elements. Just as there were mysteries of great nature like fire, water, earth, and wind, there were also ones tied to human emotions like joy, sorrow, lust, and rage. Because humans themselves harbored mysteries.
A mystery infused with love's emotion became charm magic. One with rage became taunt magic.
The horrific mystery wailing and wandering before Ian's eyes was a tangle of every negative human emotion imaginable. The kind buried deep in the mystery realm, extremely hard to contact—impossible to pin to one specific feeling.
Ian could tell because it was a mix of all human negativity.
There'd be anger, sorrow, regret, jealousy... but also something utterly dangerous like murderous intent!
"If you're a real shaman! A priest of Hrun Dal! Snap out of it and face reality! Is that really the mystery you summoned?!"
"..."
A voice laced with sincerity carried power. Ian's words, infused with strong will, pierced the blob of negativity around Paira and reached his very soul. Like a splash of cold water to the face, Paira's mind cleared.
...What? What did I summon?
That wasn't the mystery Paira had meant to call. It was something even the summoner couldn't comprehend. Only then did he realize he was trapped in an indescribable mass of horrific emotions. It felt like being dunked in a pit of filth.
Within that mass, Paira clearly read a very dangerous emotion. Murderous intent. A mystery brimming with intense killing urge could truly kill. That's what they called a curse.
Murder curses were so dangerous they could kill even shamans who handled mysteries, but in exchange, they took the target's life. That's why they were the ultimate taboo among shamans.
The unholy mystery wailed ferociously. The air itself cowered, freezing in place. The wind stopped as if by magic. Even the northerners ignorant of mysteries felt a chill crawl down their spines.
"Just now... something..."
"Gave me the creeps..."
They had no idea what horror was unfolding. That ignorance was a blessing. Mage Ian felt every ounce of the overwhelming emotion pouring from the unholy mystery!
Ugh... my head...!
Negative emotions whipped through like a storm. Ian finally understood why fictional mages went mad wielding magic. It felt like someone pried open his skull and poured emotions straight in—how could you not lose your mind?
Being in direct contact with the mystery, Ian felt its influence far stronger than ordinary folk.
As Ian staggered, nose bleeding, Belenca drew her sword with a shing!
Clang!
"You. What the hell's going on."
"..."
But Paira, pale as a ghost, couldn't answer. He didn't know himself!
This thing's beyond me. Gotta send it back! Quick!
Thanks to Ian's shout, Paira snapped to and frantically pondered how to banish the unholy mystery. But no easy answer came. It was his first time facing this; judgment was slow.
Unlike the Maronius Language, Arcana cards were tools for indirect communion with mysteries. Less precise than magic, but safer for dangerous ones. The catch? Indirect meant the shaman's will didn't transmit perfectly!
Go back... go back...!
It was like shooing a bird back out a window. Open the door and pray it leaves!
But even if you fling the door wide, a panicked or threatened bird might just flit around lost. Fine for small fragile things—you could chase 'em out. But a tiger or bear? Pray to God, Buddha, Allah...
"Shaman!"
"I-I'm trying! I'm trying, okay?!"
Belenca gripped her hilt tight. Worst case, she'd lop off the shaman's head before anything happened to Ian. She seriously considered it.
Having journeyed with Ian, Belenca had experienced mysteries directly and indirectly. She sensed the dire situation. And her soul, attuned to them, reacted more sharply here amid the unnatural churn.
...?
Belenca turned her head. She didn't know Maronius Language or mysteries. But humans sometimes tapped miraculous intuition—a fleeting brush with the unknown.
Right! That bird...!
"Kira! Lend me that bird real quick!"
"Wha... huh? Winnie?"
Of course, Belenca couldn't hear the mystery. No clue what it said. But her thoughts naturally drifted to Kira's baby phoenix, and convinced it was her own idea, she handed it to Ian.
Holy being—surely it'll do something!
"Ian!"
Belenca tucked the chick into Ian's arms. It squawked peep!
"...!"
Since ancient times, folklore held that birdsong carried mystical power—like rooster crows driving off evil spirits. The sacred phoenix's cry blasted the emotions tormenting Ian's mind clean away.
Just now... felt like I heard something nightmare-fuel...
Ian shook his head. Not even married yet, and dreaming some kid called him daddy? What a nightmare...
"Ugh...!"
"Kira!"
The sight that greeted Ian as he recovered: Kira doubled over in agony. As a talented mage herself, she wasn't immune to the mystery's influence.
"Belenca! Unlock Takarion and get him out! Have him recite scripture!"
"Got it!"
Belenca dashed to Takarion's cage and raised her sword overhead. The sharp blade glinted in the sun.
"Wait! Hitting iron with a sword'll snap it—"
Ragnar shouted urgently, but what followed left his jaw on the floor.
Kang!
Without hesitation, Belenca smashed the iron lock. It split in two with a clunk and fell away.
"She... cut iron... with a sword?!"
Ragnar was speechless at the absurd feat. But humans touching mysteries often pulled off miracles casually—what folks called "possessed."
Belenca, possessed-like, sliced the lock with divine swordplay.
"Takarion! Recite the scripture! Hurry!"
"Uh! Yeah! Right!"
Meanwhile, Kira set the ground ablaze. Fire held sanctity and purification—unholy mysteries would fear it.
"As the sun gazes upon us, the wicked dare not lift their heads!"
Flames and scripture—two sacred mysteries. People huddled behind them. Left standing: just Ian and Paira.
"Ragnar! Don't go beyond the fire!"
"But...!"
Ragnar and the northerners stamped in frustration. Beyond the fire ring hung air so foul even normals could feel it now.
A horror imperceptible to most, faced by two occultists: shaman Paira and mage Ian.
"Paira! How much longer?!"
"Ritual! I'll lure it with a ritual!"
The unholy mystery exuded killing intent. Proof its patience had snapped.
Paira drew a ritual dagger and stabbed his finger.
"Ooooooh!"
The hand symbolized omnipotence; fingers could turn keys to open doors. Blood sprayed across Paira's face. Centering on his severed finger, he began drawing a magic circle blending Arcana cards and runes.
"Just a bit...! A bit more...!"
"Paira!"
The unholy mystery breathed malice at Paira—that breath was a murder curse itself!
If Paira died now, they were screwed. Ian alone couldn't hold it. Somehow, buy time till the ritual finished—distract it.
But fear clutched Ian's ankles like mud. Death terrified. Facing a mystery that could shred life like paper? Terrifying.
...Then.
A soft night's whisper tickled his ear.
The mystery of darkness. To aid Ian against the mystery, others swirled around him like companions. As some novelist said, the night is gentle.
In the pitch black, Ian's heart eased. If this darkness could fool even the unholy mystery's eyes...
Time could be bought. Ian felt the boiling power of incantation.
"Yeah. Let's do this."
Ian charged at the unholy mystery.