Episode 57: "Ian! Wake Up!"
"Ian! Get up!"
A full moon hung high in the night sky. Ian, deep in a sweet slumber, cracked his eyes open at the voice calling him. Ingrian was pacing anxiously beside his bed.
"What is it?"
Ingrian, sweating bullets with a trembling voice, said, "S-something's outside. I don't know what it is, but it's definitely targeting us!"
The drowsiness vanished in an instant. Ian had a gut feeling he'd fallen into one of those classic movie or fantasy night raid scenarios.
"Damn... grave robbers?"
"No, no! Not humans! Something closer to a mystery!"
"...A mystery?"
Ian reflexively pictured intelligent monsters like drakes or manticores. If beasts like that showed up out of nowhere in the dead of night to snack on humans, it wouldn't be weird at all. If a massive carnivorous monster had really come calling, Ian was well and truly screwed.
Monsters are always to be handled with care! Hadn't Eredis drilled that into his ears until they blistered? Monsters were dangerous. And this godforsaken medieval fantasy world was crawling with them everywhere. That was why inter-territory exchanges were sluggish and human expansion so plodding. It was like filming Man vs. Wild in real time—humans might be strong, but they were still just humans.
"Caw! Master!"
Right on cue, Oberon flew in.
"Oberon. You see something too?"
[Yep! Some little human-like kids showed up over there!]
"Little humans?"
That phrase sparked one word in Ian's mind.
...Fairies?
"Let's go check it out first."
But he still lacked info. Ian wanted to lay eyes on these midnight visitors himself.
Ingrian, shivering, said, "D-do we have to go?"
"It'd be best. We don't know their intentions."
"Makes sense. Yeah, it does..."
As Ingrian shuddered, Ian couldn't help but find him a tad pathetic. He got being scared, but actually trembling like that made him look like a total coward.
"If you're scared, stay here?"
"B-but I want to see what it is with my own eyes..."
"Then let's go together."
"...Isn't that dangerous? Maybe we should wake the knight and go as a group..."
What a fussy old geezer. Ian caught himself and rethought. No, was this the secret to longevity? Being overly cautious meant being prudent. The reckless ones always died first—that was history's proven truth. Ingrian had lived long by show-and-proving the value of caution, so it probably checked out.
"Then I'll fetch Belenca."
Ian woke Belenca and brought her along. She startled at his sudden appearance but quickly grasped the situation and cooperated without a fuss. How cooperative? She didn't even haggle over her fee.
"But if I rack up merits, there should be a bonus..."
"Ugh, fine, I'll pay up, so shut up about money already."
"Love the decisiveness."
Even fresh from sleep, Belenca's face brimmed with energy. Maybe she was thrilled about the payout.
The night was dimly lit by moonlight alone, but Ian strode forward without hesitation. As his bond with darkness deepened daily, his Umbrakinesis Dark Vision worked like a passive skill. Navigating the pitch black was a piece of cake.
"Ian."
Ingrian, trailing close behind, suddenly reacted. One of his specialties, the alert worm spell, had triggered.
"Unholy group up ahead."
Ian and Belenca stayed silent. No point chattering with enemies so near.
Ian hid in the shadows and murmured the Maronius language.
"Darkness shall light the way ahead."
⟨ Umbrakinesis – Dark Vision ⟩
Darkness spread from Ian. A black-and-white vision like an old film floated before his eyes—a third eye, built from what the shadows saw and felt.
That's...
Ian observed what Ingrian called "something close to a mystery." And... he felt a bit deflated.
What the hell? That's it?
The midnight visitors were dwarves no taller than 30 centimeters.
Monsters?
Ian had no clue what they were. Even he found the true fantasy world's bizarre creatures unfamiliar. He knew Earth's animals at a glance, but these? No idea.
Not an attack...?
Ian tilted his head at the huddled dwarves. If they were raiders, they'd be plotting something shady—but to a mage's eye, they looked harmless.
What are they doing?
His question resolved in an unexpected way. Oberon started frantically stamping Ian's shoulder.
"Quit it. You're shedding. Oberon."
[S-sorry! Master! But over there...!]
"Over there?"
Oberon trembled, staring into the dark.
[Th-there...! A monster's hiding!]
"Monster?"
Ian focused, expanding his Dark Vision to the tree Oberon meant. He whistled in admiration.
"Ah. A Eurasian eagle-owl?"
[Eek!]
Perched atop the tree, a massive eagle-owl gazed calmly at the dwarves. Ian, being human, wasn't fazed. But poor crow Oberon quaked in terror, feathers rattling.
[Aah! Those wings! That beak...!]
"Jeez, more shedding."
[S-scary! I'm fainting! Master!]
"Yeah, yeah, just keel over. Want me to pocket you?"
With a wingspan—wingtip to wingtip—of 180 centimeters, the Eurasian eagle-owl was one of the night's top predators. A real-world monster, like a tiger. Just as a normal human would piss themselves facing a tiger, lowly crow Oberon freaked out at the sight.
"Belenca. Got any leftover meat from yesterday? Bring it."
"On it."
Ian crunched toward the tree where the eagle-owl perched.
"H-human! It's a human!"
"What do we do? A human showed up!"
Ian closely observed the so-called raiders up close.
Wow.
Now he got it. Height: 30 cm. Mystical wings sprouting from their backs. Adorably cute faces... Fairies.
The fantasy race everyone acknowledged, unlike elves in decline over time, these were the ill-fated folk treading the path of decay.
Most thought "elf" meant Tolkien's long-eared, long-lived, beautiful superiors. But those were knockoffs. The true originals were these pint-sized phantom beasts. Called "fairies" to distinguish from pointy-eared elves.
Unlike elves, fairies were rare outside Western legends—no fans. Slender elf waifus spawned endless fanservice, but fairies flopped. Their loli-con bait looks killed it. Elf-bait was a taste thing; fairy-bait was... (etc.)
Anyway. Fairies, now tutorial tower floor-one bosses lopping challengers' heads, stood before Ian. Here to pop his?
...
If they could, it'd be creepy. But these weren't tutorial fairies—they seemed clueless about decapitating humans. If they knew, ghost stories would've spread. Plus, no way they'd huddle like sitting ducks before an eagle-owl.
The fairies flinched as their eyes met Ian's. So damn cute. A Japanese dungeon survival expert once said all creatures look that way for a reason. Cuteness served a purpose.
Dungeon Bear Grills said the same before chowing down monsters. Whatever.
Ian was genuinely curious. Why were fairies evolved so cutely?
"Here. Got it."
"Thanks."
Ian approached the eagle-owl with meat, channeling his experience communing with nature's beasts in a firm voice.
"Come down."
[???]
"I won't hurt you. It's fine—come down."
The eagle-owl stared long and hard... then whoosh! Flapped down before Ian.
Ian hastily extended his staff for a perch.
Lighter than expected?
He'd braced for monstrous weight, but it was surprisingly light. No wonder British wizards used them for mail.
Ian gently scratched its back, feeding it meat scraps. The owl blinked dumbly—what's this?—then gobbled eagerly. Sudden kindness? Whatever, food first.
"Oho."
Ingrian's eyes sparkled at Ian's deft handling. That communion with nature... pro level. Definitely summoning master material, he thought.
Belenca, who'd seen Ian's weird feats before, was equally impressed. Taming an owl instantly? Mages had skills.
Ian fed the owl while approaching the fairies.
"This guy's what had you spooked, right?"
"Eek!"
The fairies panicked as Ian neared with the owl. Terrified. What was an eagle-owl? A giant kidnapper snatching and devouring fairies alive!
Yet this human tamed—no, domesticated—it with words alone...! They dreaded Ian siccing it: Go! Devour these insolent pests! Owl rampaging Screech! Screech!—horror!
"S-sorry!"
The terrified fairies bowed in unison. No Japanese blood, but perfect dogeza form.
Then the owl flapped, poised to launch—mere hunting instinct from their shrieks.
"Easy."
Ian calmed it with a shoulder press. The fairies felt awe toward him.
Oh my god...!
A brute human? Avoid. But one mastering a terror beast? Pure reverence. Worship erases fear.
Powerless to scheme, the fairies spilled everything.
"W-we came to you, human sir, to beg for our sword back!"
"Sword?"
Only one fit: the magic sword Anorilsil.
Ian drew it; fairies squeaked in chorus.
"Yes! That's it!"
"Without it, we can't weave cloth anymore!"
Ian sheathed it and asked, "Cloth? What cloth?"
The fairies replied, "Cloth as precious as our lives!"