Pilgrimage to Yeongsan and the Fool's Arcana
The next day, Ian's group packed their belongings and set off for Yeongsan Gramunt. With Pyra and the warriors of the Red Bear tribe, plus Ragnar and Sigr, it was quite a sizable party.
"Yeongsan isn't a place you just wander into casually," Pyra muttered as they climbed the mountain, spilling bits of information. Ian focused on her words—partly out of boredom, but mostly because it was useful intel.
"The Mountain King lives in Yeongsan."
"Mountain King?"
The name sounded like it could summon a ghoul flower just by stomping the ground... but it wasn't all that unusual. It literally meant a king-like being that ruled the mountains.
"It's a spirit beast called a Behemoth. Ever heard of it?"
"The name rings a bell."
Behemoth. A legendary monster whose depictions varied wildly across legends, never settling into a single stereotype. But in this medieval fantasy world, the Behemoth resembled an elephantine monster—wise and gentle, yet possessing overwhelming power that made it impossible to ignore.
"Yeongsan is the Mountain King's territory. If an intruder shows up without permission, monsters called Grendels appear and attack."
"Oh ho."
"You probably won't run into any Grendels under normal circumstances... but since we're heading deep into Yeongsan, right into the Mountain King's domain, we'll likely cross paths."
Humans and the Mountain King had long acknowledged each other's territories, coexisting by avoiding conflict. The unspoken rule was not to delve too deeply into one another's realms. Shamans seeking Hrun Dal's temple were the exception.
"The Mountain King is also a devotee of Lady Hrun Dal."
"Wise spirit beast, right?"
"Exactly. If we explain our situation properly, we should pass through safely." Pyra spoke with confidence, and Ian felt his tension ease. This is why you need a local guide. Pyra was a veteran shaman who'd climbed Yeongsan nearly ten times, including in her youth. With her along, major mishaps seemed unlikely.
"Caw! Caw!"
"Cheep! Cheep!"
As they ascended Yeongsan, the two beasts went wild with excitement. Oberon and the phoenix Winnie flapped their wings gleefully, savoring the mountain's crisp air.
[This feels so good!]
[Such lively wingbeats! I love it!]
"..."
The problem was that they were doing all this racket from atop Ian's shoulders.
"Hey, kids. Are my shoulders your personal playground?"
[Oops! Master's shoulders are the coziest in the world!]
[Papa's shoulders are the best too!]
Crackle. Ian grabbed the phoenix and dangled it by the scruff, shaking it gently.
"Remember that time with the pitiful mystery? You called me 'Papa' right to my face."
[Hehe...]
"Why the hell am I your dad?"
The phoenix flapped its stubby wings and cheeped plaintively.
[Calling you Ian... feels too distant...]
Ian blinked in surprise for a split second. This bird's got some vocabulary for a damn bird. Oberon had mastered the imperial tongue but still sounded like a birdbrain. The phoenix, being innately close to mysteries, made it possible. Returning to Yeongsan seemed to be reviving its old memories. Once it regained its true form, it'd boast wisdom like any other mystery.
"Ian, if you shake her like that, Winnie'll get hurt." Kira swiftly snatched the phoenix into her arms with sleight-of-hand worthy of a card sharp.
"Aww, so cute."
[Mama's the best too!]
Kira, already in full bird-mom mode, was too busy cooing over the phoenix to notice. She didn't know Maronius, so she had no clue what it was saying. Would she be thrilled or creeped out if she knew it called her "Mama"?
'Too close for comfort, huh.'
"Hm."
"What's up, Pyra?"
"Nothing. We've entered the Mountain King's territory, but no Grendels have shown up." Pyra scanned the surroundings. Grendels were like the Mountain King's personal guard. Stepping into a noble's land without guards appearing felt off.
Ian brushed it off. Yeongsan was vast—would monsters really swarm at the sight of a handful of humans?
"This is odd..."
Pyra muttered and drew a single Arcana card.
[The World]
'Does this mean her plan is in motion...?'
It wasn't a signal to stop. Though puzzled, Pyra trusted the omen and pressed on.
Thus, Ian's group arrived at a certain cave.
"There's a sacred mural here," Pyra explained. Hrun Dal's temples always had paintings. Conversely, no paintings meant it wasn't Hrun Dal's temple.
"I'll pay respects to Lady Hrun Dal. Ragnar, look after the others."
Ragnar nodded silently. He still didn't like Pyra much, but he wasn't rejecting the changed version of her. Call it the scouting phase.
"Ian. And priest Takarion. Come with me."
Pyra led Ian and Takarion inside, torch in hand. Ian preferred the dark, but he endured the light for the other two.
A warm coziness enveloped Ian as they entered the cave.
[Ian. Be quiet in here.]
[Feel those eyes watching us?]
The cave was utterly still. The usually chatty darkness mystery whispered demurely, like a child before an adult—clearly minding a higher presence.
Ian was certain. This was a sanctuary for a northern god.
"Ian. Look at this."
Pyra pointed to the walls lined with chaotic paintings: hunters with bows felling beasts, festivals around central flames, clashes between tribes.
"All drawn by Lady Hrun Dal herself."
"Hrun Dal?"
"Proof that she always watches over us."
'...'
They were definitely primitive ancient murals. But if asked whether a god named Hrun Dal drew them... well? Ian wasn't convinced. It made far more sense that ancient northern folk left them to commemorate hunts.
But voicing that would fall on deaf ears with Pyra. Ian wasn't an anthropologist, and distinguishing cave painters gained him nothing. Best to stay silent and nod.
"Ian. Place the blank Arcana cards on the altar."
Ian set the stack of empty Arcana cards atop the altar—the ones Pyra had prepared for his initiation.
"Lady Hrun Dal will now grant you her power. There are twenty-two cards in total, but some may not appear. It just means you're not ready for them yet—don't be too disappointed."
Ian asked without much thought.
"Could all twenty-two appear?"
"Of course. But only a great sage versed in all the world's mysteries could receive them all at once. Most get the first few as gifts, filling the rest with proxies."
Arcana meant mysteries. Collecting all meant mastery over every mystery. Ian getting the full set? Unlikely.
"I'll conduct the ritual. You just listen with a true heart."
Hearing the mysteries' voices. Ian smiled faintly.
Piece of cake.
Ian meditated quietly before Hrun Dal's altar. Memories of his first steps into magic surfaced. He'd learned Maronius thoroughly from Eredis and succeeded in communing with mysteries. Language bridged the world and humanity. Without it, humans couldn't perceive the world. Some concepts gained meaning only through words. Mages borrowed the world's power via language—a profoundly intuitive act.
But Arcana was different. More uncertain, yet spiritual and closer to mysteries' essence. Humanity had long sought to interpret the world, birthing occult sciences: numerology, astrology, four pillars, shamanism... Thoroughly investigating the world's faint traces to read its will—that was occultism. Arcana was part of it.
Ian's mind melted into the serene spiritual realm. Truths and wills swirled chaotically there. A warmth engulfed him, melting his body.
[Ian. Finally, you'll meet my friend.]
[...? Who are you?]
[Hehe. One of your fans, cheering on your journey.]
[The sky's mystery sends warm greetings.]
[Heavenly Faith's god...?]
Suddenly, Ian's vision blurred. The voice faded.
[For now, just remember I'm watching over you.]
[No matter how elegant, noble, holy, and beautiful the sun—no staring at it bare-eyed, right?]
[Let's chat after you grab some sunglasses!]
[The sky's mystery pretends to pout.]
[Sorry, but see you next time, Ian.]
The warmth vanished. Bone-chilling cold whipped from all sides, freezing Ian's soul.
[So you're the human the sun spirit spoke of.]
Ian couldn't face the cold. Lifting his head felt like it would shatter from frost.
[Come find me, human. Retrieve the item the sun spirit entrusted to you.]
Ian calmed his pounding heart. That was likely Hrun Dal, the northerners' divine being. Unlike the warm, benevolent god of the Heavenly Faith, Hrun Dal exuded cold, ruthless eeriness.
"...Ian! Snap out of it!"
A voice from beyond the ritual jolted Ian's eyes open. Pyra gazed at him with worry.
"You... met Lady Hrun Dal."
"...Probably."
Ian recalled Hrun Dal's words. Come find me? How? Where?
"Lady Hrun Dal... told me to come see her."
"..."
Pyra's face mixed worry and awe. Ian meeting Hrun Dal was alarming yet boast-worthy! See? Bringing him here was the right call!
"We'll figure that out step by step," Pyra said, soothing him. "First, check your cards."
If Hrun Dal called him, he'd go. The world would reveal the way. That was the northern way.
"Ah. Right."
Ian spread the Arcana cards. Familiar illustrations greeted him.
"..."
0. The Fool. The artwork oddly resembled Ian himself—Hrun Dal's first gift to him.
Ian flipped through the others.
2. The High Priestess. A woman like Eredis, submerged in a lake.
3. The Empress. A red-haired woman in splendid robes, like Kira.
6. The Lovers. A black-haired woman gazing naked at the floor.
7. The Chariot. A massive drake pulling Ian along.
11. Justice. A golden-haired knight woman with a longsword.
12. The Hanged Man. A sorrowfully wailing impure mystery.
17. The Star. A dark-blue-haired woman laughing vibrantly.
"This is..."
Ian trailed off, staring at the images. Pyra smiled and continued.
"The story of your life. Your journey, captured in pictures."
"..."
He'd thought the faces looked familiar... and he wasn't wrong. Every illustration depicted people tied to his journey.