Ian Was Seriously Annoyed
Ian was genuinely pissed off. Sure, he'd started the pissing contest first, trying to overwhelm Pyra with his superior magic and snatch the initiative. That much was true. But the mystery she'd summoned in response was way over the line. It was far too dangerous a being to call just because she was pissed! It wasn't like he was her father's murderer or anything. Pulling out a mystery that screamed "you die, I die" right off the bat? Yeah, that sparked real irritation.
"Sorry. I'm really sorry..."
Pyra kept apologizing to Ian. At first, he was furious. But seeing her bow her head, blood dripping between her severed fingers, his anger cooled a bit. Accidents happened, after all. If he forgave her sincere apology cleanly now, he'd come off as a magnanimous guy! And hell yeah, he was that guy! His eye for people was spot-on! Pyra!
"Sigh. Fine. It was an accident anyway."
"I should've noticed sooner..."
Ian squinted at the snow-capped mountains, where a cold wind howled. What the hell was wrong with the North? Why did something that vicious even lurk around here? It hit him anew just how brutal the North was. As a mage who rarely clashed with warriors, he hadn't fully grasped it before. This was a bleak land where countless lives ended pointlessly, leaving all sorts of savage mysteries lurking in the ice and darkness. No wonder Northerners walked around with chronic depression.
In contrast, the "civilized world" of the Empire and its surroundings was dominated by the Church of Heavenly Grace, soothing people's hearts. It was an environment where unclean mysteries and monstrosities rarely appeared.
"Let's get that hand treated first."
"Ah... yeah. Right."
Pyra responded sluggishly, half out of it.
She'd lost a finger, but Pyra had zero thoughts on the matter.
"A finger? Pfft. Plenty of folks up North are missing fingers. Frostbite in winter claims one or two like clockwork."
"..."
Ian let out a genuine sigh of relief. Thank god he wasn't born in the North. He'd badmouthed the Holy Empire as barbaric, but hearing Pyra made him reflexively reconsider past sins. The Empire suddenly looked like a saintly paradise. This was true barbarism.
"Whew... anyway. Mage Ian, your skills... they're truly remarkable."
A shaman and a mage had met. Different social roles, but a clear common ground: handling mysteries. Talk naturally drifted to the topic.
"That unclean mystery was insanely powerful—one slip, and its emotional weight could've crushed you into madness. But your boldness and precision? Utterly impressive."
Pyra laid out her raw, unfeigned impressions.
"How on earth did you even think to speak to a monster like that?"
Listening to her, Ian suddenly realized just how batshit crazy he'd been. Walking right up to a monster so hazardous even approaching was suicide—and then chatting with it?
"... yeah. What was I thinking?"
Playing mage meant occasionally letting his guts lead the way. Big mistake.
"The North teems with cruel mysteries. They're not inherently friendly to humans by nature. That's why we invoke Lord Hrun Dal's blessing for indirect contact. That's the Arcana cards."
Northern mysteries were riskier than the Empire's. Direct speech via Maronius Language carried far higher stakes.
"Definitely unique."
That's how Ian sized up the Arcana cards. If Northern mysteries were gentle like the Empire's, shamans would've talked to them directly too. But they were violent and primal, so shamans developed indirect methods.
"With your talent, sticking to Empire magic should be fine."
Pyra said it straight, 100% sincere. Ian had conversed with an unclean mystery and walked away unscathed—no madness, no idiocy. Proof of his magical prowess.
"But... just in case, learning the Northern way might be wise..."
Pyra said cautiously, worried he might take it as an insult. His magic was top-tier, but one wrong brush with a psycho mystery could end badly. No guarantee the unclean one wouldn't repeat. She wanted him handling mysteries more safely.
"Appreciate the offer, but I got nothing fitting to repay you with."
"Repay? What're you talking about!"
Pyra flailed her hands, shouting.
"You already saved my life! And if a talent like you died in some accident, I'd never forgive myself. No need to feel burdened."
"Hm."
Well, if she put it that way...
"Alright, teach me the basics?"
Ian decided to learn Arcana cards from Pyra.
"To handle Arcana, you need cards first."
Pyra stated the obvious. Ian nodded instinctively. Duh, Arcana (nod).
"Make me one then?"
"Me, make an Arcana card? Impossible."
Pyra explained.
"Only Lord Hrun Dal can create them."
"Then..."
"Ask him to make yours."
Shamans dealt with mysteries but often begged or prayed. They wielded mystic power, but its scope was limited. That's why Ian saw them as mage-priest hybrids.
"If you're game, shall we climb Spirit Mountain together?"
"Spirit Mountain?"
Holy Mountain Gramunt. The stark, menacing snowpeak visible even from the Red Bear tribe's lands. Not exactly screaming "climb me."
One glance screamed wild monsters and savage mysteries crawling everywhere. But to craft Arcana cards, ascending Gramunt was mandatory.
"Gramunt hides shrines to Lord Hrun Dal, unknown to common folk."
"Shrines... how many?"
"Who knows? At least more than Northern shamans, I'd bet."
Ian caught on.
"Gotta hit a shrine for a card, huh."
"Exactly. Only Hrun Dal draws Arcana illustrations in this world."
A bit quirky, but Hrun Dal was famed as a cave-painting god. An artist deity, basically. God handled the card art(?), so shrines it was.
"That's why this one's blank."
Ian pulled a half-torn Arcana card from his pocket. From Monk Isila. Unlike Pyra's, it had only a crude, faded outline.
He'd thought age wore it down. But Pyra's words suggested it lost its mystery.
"Ooh! This is...!"
Pyra gasped softly at Ian's card.
"Definitely...!"
"Junk, right."
"Definitely junk—wait. What? Calling a sacred item junk?!"
Ian blinked.
"Isn't it?"
He was a mage, not a shaman. A mystery-less item held no value to him.
"Nonsense!"
But Pyra was a shaman.
"Every phenomenon hides a mystery's omen! You think this card reaching you was mere chance?!"
Yeah, total coincidence. Ian thought so but kept quiet. The Empire's shadiest mages popped into mind: chronomancers. They saw events as time [branch points], believing futures diverged pre- and post-incident. Like Ian's world splitting with or without the card.
"... maybe someone slipped it to me on purpose."
"The Great One's will, surely. Hold on. I'll attune it to you."
If coincidental, it was as good as direct from Hrun Dal. Fate.
Pyra snatched the torn card and tinkered in her back room. Soon, she handed it back. Looks unchanged. But grasping it, Ian felt a piercing intuition stab through his crown.
"This is..."
Pyra grinned.
"Congrats. Your first Arcana card for your deck."
All shamans received Arcana from Hrun Dal. The first symbolized the holder's fate and identity.
"Mine was the Temperance card. Means born to bridge worlds."
Common for shamans—linking gods, nature, humans.
"I figure you'll get the Mage card."
"Oh ho."
Pyra pegged Ian for Mage. A hero's card: wielding divine power, destined for greatness. And Ian was a mage. Obvious fit?
"Let's see..."
Ian flipped it grinning. A figure appeared.
"Check it out, Pyra. The Mage card, right?"
Pyra looked puzzled.
"No, not the Mage."
"Huh? Then what?"
But it looks totally like a mage!
"It's... the 0 card."
"Zero?"
"Named The Fool."
"..."
Ian nearly yelled at her. Ian! Not a fool!
But names differed from symbols. Foolish name, good meaning possible!
"What's it symbolize?"
"... usually, foolish humanity."
What?! Ian wanted to deny, but... fair point. He was an isekai cheater. Like most, not a genius—just scamming with his status window. "Without it, you're just another fool—be humble," from the Northern god?
"Hm. Makes sense."
Ian nodded, accepting. Pyra eyed him oddly.
'The 0 symbolizes folly... but also new beginnings.'
Yes. The Fool meant folly and fresh starts. Rarely a first card, though. Who embodied "new beginning" purely? Lifespans were one-shot; restarts didn't fit. Unless... second-life folks...
'Mage Ian.'
Pyra stared sharply.
'Maybe he could open new paths for us lost Northerners.'