Shepherd Wizard Chapter 56

Translator: Pai_

After asking around a bit more, Turan learned that the high-ranking person was none other than the head of the great House Lavitas.

Of course, the villagers had no idea why such a person had died, but given the circumstances, they assumed it was due to old age.

If the head of a great house had been murdered by someone, the atmosphere wouldn't just be uneasy, the entire wetland region would have been turned upside down.

‘Well, even gods eventually die of old age. Why would the head of a great house be any different?’

Turan recalled the image of the head of House Arabion he had seen in the past.

A being who could summon thousands of bolts of lightning with a mere gesture, scorching the earth, an existence that seemed like a natural disaster in human form.

Yet even such beings could not defy the lifespan set for them, a thought that made the reality of mortality feel all the more fleeting.

That evening, Turan stayed at the village hall, a place where the villagers gathered, and had his first taste of the local wetland region's cuisine.

As expected of a village by the water, most of the dishes were fish-based, all either steamed thoroughly or boiled. To counteract the strong earthy scent, various local spices were added, creating quite a distinctive flavor.

“Come on, eat up!”

“I heard you’re a traveler from far away, young man! Tell us some stories about the world!”

“We’re all just country folks who’ve never left this area.”

“There must be a lot of strange things out there, right?”

Before he knew it, dozens of villagers had gathered in the hall, all eager to hear stories from a traveler from afar.

In exchange for food and lodging, they requested that Turan share tales from his journey.

Due to the nature of Siraf Wetlands, where carts and wagons had difficulty passing through, even traveling merchants rarely ventured in and out. Because of this, stories from the outside world were a rare and precious thing here.

As they had said, everything from the villagers’ clothing to their architectural styles was vastly different from those of the nearby Western Wasteland.

It reminded him of the time he first set foot in the Enril Desert.

While the adults were chattering away, a few children who had tagged along tried to touch Bije, who was perched on the stick at Turan's waist.

Bije, in response, bared her sharp beak menacingly, making her refusal clear. Frightened, a few of the children burst into tears.

“You shouldn’t do that, Bije. Be nice.”

At Turan’s playful reprimand, Bije let out a snort-like clack of her beak before lowering her head just enough to allow the children to pet her.

After giving Bije’s head a light stroke, Turan began recounting some of the experiences from his travels, slightly embellishing them for effect.

He spoke of the Sky Mountain Range at the westernmost edge, the time he set sail on the North Sea, the rocky mountains of the Gray Zone, the endlessly bountiful Takein Plains, and the now-devastated forested cities that were once filled with towering trees…

Having received similar requests whenever he blended into local villages while pretending to be a commoner, Turan had, by now, become quite a skilled storyteller.

As he spoke, a middle-aged man who had been listening quietly spoke up.

“Come to think of it, I heard that if you keep going east from here, you’ll reach the sea. Is that the place you’re talking about?”

“No, that would be the South Sea. The one I visited was the North Sea… Here, take a look at this.”

Since the villagers had lived their entire lives within the vicinity of their home, they had trouble distinguishing locations. So, using the simple geographical knowledge Keorn had once shared with him, Turan sketched a rough map of the places he had personally traveled to.

Of course, since he hadn’t measured anything precisely, the landmasses, latitudes, and longitudes were all wildly inaccurate. But at the very least, the relative positions of the regions were somewhat recognizable.

“Ohh, this is…?”

“So this is where we live? It looks so small.”

“You mean you’ve traveled all the way over there, young man? You’d need more than a few years of walking to cover that distance!”

"I wonder what's beyond those mountains?"

The villagers, marveling at the kind of map that wealthy merchants would pay a fortune to obtain, excitedly chattered about places they had never set foot in.

The next morning, in return for enriching the village with his stories, Turan received clothes worn by the locals and a pair of shoes.

The clothes were made of a loose yet durable material that was resistant to wear and allowed good airflow. The sleeves and pant legs were cut about halfway.

In contrast, the shoes were about twice as thick as ordinary leather shoes and extended above the ankles. The outer surface was coated with a mysterious pale substance.

They said it was coated with sap from local trees to prevent water from seeping in.

“These won’t let water in? That’d be incredible for use on a boat.”

“There are people who actually buy them for that purpose. But be careful with fire! Even a small spark can set them ablaze instantly.”

After changing into his new outfit, Turan left the village, following the path the villagers had told him about.

Wearing the clothes he had received definitely made moving around much easier.

No matter how sturdy a noble’s body was, the discomfort of wet clothes clinging to the skin or shoes soaking up water and squelching with each step was the same for everyone.

Of course, the difference was whether or not one would suffer from colds or various other illnesses because of it.

Perhaps out of boredom from simply hanging at his waist, Bije took off and flew around a few times before returning with a wild boar.

Even for a magical beast, the sight of her carrying an animal that appeared to be a hundred times her own weight was nothing short of astounding.

“If you keep wandering off alone, you’ll get hunted again.”

At Turan’s teasing remark, Bije let out a disgruntled cry and lightly bumped her head against his side.

Regardless, thanks to her, lunch was taken care of with a stew made from the wild boar, cooked in the local style.

Unlike domesticated pork, the fat had a crunchy texture when bitten into, adding to the meal’s enjoyment.

After finishing his meal and walking for about another hour, he arrived at a city.

This place was called Slop.

Unlike other regions, its boundaries were marked by wooden palisades instead of stone walls, likely due to the soft nature of the ground.

Even though this area was dry enough to support a city, the soil was still oddly muddy.

“Hm? Hey, that’s… It’s not a crow… What kind of bird is that? Don’t tell me it’s a magical beast?”

“It’s called a golden eagle. It’s not a magical beast, just a well-trained bird. It won’t harm people.”

“Hmm…”

As expected, bringing Bije into the city attracted too much attention.

The city guard scrutinized them for a moment before finally allowing Turan to pass after collecting two copper coins.

“It’s fine.”

Hearing Bije’s slightly dispirited cry, Turan patted her back reassuringly.

A little while later, as he moved toward the bustling commercial district to find an inn, just as he always did, something unusual caught his eye.

A black pillar stood in the middle of the marketplace, surrounded by various shops.

As he approached, he saw that it was engraved with text, clearly inscribed using magic, specifically earth manipulation techniques.

[Ishiel Lavitas, Head of House Lavitas, Guardian of Siraf Wetlands, and Mother to all the Sick and Injured, has departed this world, called to the heavens by the gods.]

[Her sons and daughters shall pay their respects before this pillar.]

A few of the passing townspeople paused before the memorial, bowing in reverence.

After observing this for a moment, Turan shifted his gaze to the final section of the inscription.

[Written in the name of Varken Kraf, Lord of Slop.]

It seemed that the ruling family of this city bore the name Kraf.

Yet, for some reason, the name felt oddly familiar.

Not as if he had encountered it frequently, more like he had seen it a handful of times before.

Turan fell into deep thought.

A name he had read in the library of Orem? A vassal family of House Arabion that he had come across while staying with House Berg? Or perhaps

“Ah.”

Turan carefully retrieved a notebook from his large-capacity pouch, making sure not to draw any attention.

Back in the north, he had encountered that Pyro Executioner, Ovil, the man who had caused chaos in his pursuit of the Pyromaniac Bloodline…

The name he had revealed was definitely Ovil Kraf.

‘So he was from here?’

Now that he thought about it, Ovil had mentioned being from a family in the south.

Why he had traveled all the way to the distant north to massacre ordinary people was beyond comprehension.

'Gods...'

That eerily clear gaze, the fanatical belief in some strange superstition that had been instilled in him by someone…

Back then, Turan had only thought that something suspicious was going on. But now, he was almost certain that the one who had implanted such methods into both Ovil and Midan must have been someone from the Preah God Tribe.

Now that he knew some of them could be on this earth, possessing others' bodies.

Of course, he still didn’t know why they were doing it.

Perhaps the head of this family had some connection to those mysterious Preah Gods?

As the thought crossed his mind, Turan turned his gaze toward the grand mansion at the center of the city, only to shift it away again.

Even if he was considered a formidable warrior among humans, he wasn’t yet powerful enough to meddle in the affairs of godlike beings.

Perhaps one day, when he had grown strong enough to rival the heads of those great houses, he could begin to unravel this mystery.

Clicking his tongue at this newfound realization, Turan suddenly had another thought and scanned his surroundings.

One of the key ingredients for Spirit of Fire, as listed in Ovil’s notebook, sulfur.

It occurred to him that it might be found somewhere nearby.

‘If they were conducting experiments, wouldn’t they have chosen someone who could easily gather the necessary materials?’

As expected, after asking around the market for a short while, he got his answer.

“You’re looking for sulfur?”

“Yes. I heard it’s an excellent antidote.”

“I do have some, but not a lot… I’ve got about a handful. Interested?”

The merchant named an outrageous price, one gold coin for an amount not even worth a full handful.

But Turan didn’t even bother haggling and bought it outright.

It was obvious he was being ripped off, the man hadn’t even weighed the gold coin to check its size or weight.

But Turan didn’t care.

“Do you know where I might find more of this?”

“Hm? Now, hold on. That’s my trade secret…”

“You’re not getting it from some hidden, secret location, are you? I could probably find out just by asking a few other people. You might as well tell me since I’m already buying from you.”

The merchant pouted at that but then glanced at the gold coin in his hand and nodded.

“If you follow the east road for about four days, you’ll come across several hot springs. You’ll find it around there. There are a lot of monkeys in that area, some of them are magical beasts, so be careful. They’re not particularly vicious, though.”

“Hot springs? What’s that?”

“Pools of hot water that come up from the ground. I don’t know much about them, but the locals believe soaking in them is good for your health. The monkeys seem to like them too.”

The mention of monkey magical beasts reminded Turan of the ones he had hunted in the past alongside nobles from House Baltas.

If even common merchants knew about them but didn’t bother hunting them down, they were probably not particularly hostile toward humans.

After purchasing a scale for measuring gold coins and silver coins, Turan immediately left Slop through the east gate and set off on foot.

While there were people around, he maintained a normal walking pace, blending in like an ordinary traveler.

But once he confirmed that he was alone, he had Bije assist him in flight to cover more ground quickly.

He finally came to a stop after confirming that there were no people within a three-kilometer radius.

"Finally, I can experiment with this."

[What? What are you doing?]

Bije, who had been scribbling in the damp soil with her talons, suddenly realized that the wetlands’s moisture had seeped between her claws.

Frowning in annoyance, she vigorously shook her foot to fling the mud off.

Turan chuckled, then reached down to clean the dirt from her claws before selecting a nearby tree for her to perch on.

“Stay up there for a bit. It should be fine, but just in case.”

[Going far?]

“No, not far. I just need to run a little experiment.”

Turan broke off several trees of suitable size nearby and set them on fire.

Since it was his first attempt, he encountered a few trial-and-error moments. But after carefully adjusting the heat, he was able to produce several chunks of charcoal.

He hadn’t realized it before, but it seemed that the type of wood used was also important in making charcoal.

Next, he retrieved a chunk of saltpeter from his large-capacity pouch, which he had purchased in Vanipel City of the Enril Desert long ago.

‘The ratio was 75, 15, and 10.’

After double-checking the exact proportions in his notebook, Turan took about half of the sulfur chunk and crushed it with his hands before placing it on the scale.

Then, he used telekinetic magic on the opposite side of the scale to balance it.

“Alright, this is 10…”

By measuring how much force was needed to match the weight of the sulfur, he determined the required amounts.

He then took out a bowl and poured the sulfur powder into it.

Next, he applied half again as much force as before on one side of the scale, then gradually added crushed charcoal powder on the other side until the balance was restored, before pouring that into the bowl as well.

Lastly, he increased the applied force to about seven and a half times the original amount, then measured out and added saltpeter powder to complete the mixture.

He had concentrated so intently on the process that cold sweat trickled down his forehead.

“Hoo…”

Inside the bowl, the three powders, white, black, and yellow, remained clumped together, failing to mix evenly.

Even after repeatedly pressing, compacting, and stirring them with his fingers, there was no noticeable change.

Just to be sure, he tried lighting a small piece on fire, but it just burned normally.

‘As expected, in this state, it has no effect.’

Turan was certain that the enormous explosion Ovil had caused back then was due to this Spirit of Fire.

After all, the explosion had originated from the black powder placed on either side of the cave, and none of the other formulas in the notebook had names suggesting such an effect.

It seemed that in order to complete it, the final step required some sort of magical fusion.

‘Let’s see.’

Turan placed his hand over the powder and concentrated.

He visualized the particles, imagining them breaking down beyond what was visible to the naked eye, intertwining at the smallest level, the fundamental units he had learned about from the librarian.

In that instant, a bright flash of light erupted from the bowl.

When he pulled his hand away, the powder had transformed into the same pitch-black substance he had once seen in that cave.