Became a Medieval Fantasy Wizard

Chapter 128

TL/Editor: raei

Schedule: 5/week

Illustrations: None

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“How was it, Takarion?”

Ian asked.

Takarion shook his head in response.

That night, the Mountain King passed away.

Although he chose his own death, it couldn't be called a suicide.

His life had already ended when the black dragon attacked. He had been barely holding onto life by absorbing the life force of inferior beasts. He had endured as long as he could and passed away when his time came.

If Ian hadn't met him, his end would have been much more painful and miserable.

[You have guided the soul of a mystical creature to the realm of the Sky God.]

[The Sky God smiles upon your mercy.]

[You have gained additional points.]

Under Takarion’s sacrament, the Mountain King converted to the faith and died as a follower of the Sky God. As a result, he safely reached the Sky God's realm after death.

Ian smiled contentedly as he looked at the status window that appeared before him. Skill points were always welcome, given his tendency to dabble in all sorts of magic. He never knew when or where he might need them.

Ian's mentor, Eredith, had recognized Ian's talents and encouraged him to learn a wide range of spells. If Eredith could see Ian now, she would be both proud and bemused.

Eredith knew Ian was versatile, but who would have thought he'd end up learning northern barbarian shamanic magic?

In addition to Arcana magic, Ian now handled a variety of other spells. He had become a wizard who wouldn't be outmatched wherever he went.

“Ian, I’ve witnessed something truly incredible,” Takarion murmured, still high on his religious experience.

Ian found it hard to relate.

The appearance of the Sky God in front of Ian was nothing new. In fact, the status window itself was a highly suspicious artifact.

As a result, Ian wasn’t particularly moved by divine interventions. But Takarion was different.

He was just an ordinary monk, far removed from miracles. He had never led a life wholly dedicated to God, so he had never expected to hear the divine voice.

But Takarion had just witnessed the Sky God responding to a mortal's call. He had seen the divine answer to guide the soul of a mystical creature to heaven!

The experience of leading the Mountain King to heaven profoundly transformed Takarion’s inner world.

Witnessing divine mercy extend even to a beast was an awe-inspiring revelation.

“Ian,” Takarion said, his eyes sparkling.

Ian felt a shiver run down his spine. Those eyes... where had he seen them before?

Wasn’t it Sir Dehitri of the Santiago Knights who had such a look?

Ian was unnerved by the sight of the bright-eyed fanatic expression on Takarion’s face.

“You know, I’ve lived my life spewing empty lies,” Takarion began.

“What do you mean...?”

“I crafted stories, pretending that the ideals I aspired to were real, as if saints had actually experienced them.”

Takarion blinked slowly.

“But reality was far from what I imagined.”

“...”

“I saw the barbarism of the North, the harshness of the snowy plains, a mystical creature that feared death, and a wizard who could command the arcane.”

Ian laughed awkwardly.

Was that last one supposed to be me?

“Ian, I want to spread the true word of God to people,” Takarion declared with determination.

“Though the world is full of harshness, divine mercy exists. I want to tell people how this unchanging world can be transformed by that truth, not by lies.”

“Haha... you seem really inspired. You can go back to the Empire and start writing immediately.”

At that moment, Takarion grabbed Ian’s hand tightly.

"Thanks to you, Ian."

“...”

“From the moment I arrived in the North until now, every single moment was possible because of you.”

Takarion spoke with fervor.

Ian understood that Takarion was deeply moved, but he found it overwhelming. Still, he managed to offer a word of encouragement.

“I don’t know much about theology, but I believe you can do it, Takarion.”

“Sniff! Ian!”

Ian started to flee from Takarion, who was now quoting scriptures in his excitement. Despite everything, Ian realized Takarion was still a religious person at heart.

Anyway, Ian was a bit curious about what kind of book Takarion would end up writing.

---

---

“We have won!”

“Hail to the High Chieftain! Blessed be Hrundal!”

Outside, the Northerners were celebrating their victory with unrestrained joy.

After searching the Mountain King’s dwelling, they found a significant number of captured Yagons. The number was almost equivalent to what they would capture during the Great Hunt.

They wanted to take all of them, but taking too many would ruin the next year’s hunt, so they decided to take only a reasonable amount.

They would have a harsh winter, but they wouldn’t starve.

Surprisingly, the Northerners didn’t fight over the food. The Southern and Northern alliance split the Yagons evenly.

“They’ll probably invade us again in the winter,” the High Chieftain said cynically.

Ian didn’t understand the High Chieftain.

“Then why not settle it once and for all now?”

The High Chieftain laughed happily.

“Why shed blood when there’s food right in front of us?”

“...”

In other words, they wouldn’t fight if they had food but would fight if they didn’t. They seemed more like wolves than humans.

Ian thought the Northerners lived like beasts, but he realized they had their own way of life. It wasn’t entirely beyond his comprehension.

... Though he still believed unifying the North under one ruler would be better.

With food secured, the Northerners were ready to descend the mountain.

But Ian had one more task: finding the abode of the Northern God.

Shamans, including Pira, were eager to assist Ian. Ian had already made a significant impact in the North. With recommendations from acquaintances, getting help from shamans wasn’t difficult.

“You must be Ian! I heard about you from Helga!”

“Nice to meet you.”

Among the shamans, there were those who came recommended by Helga.

“There are no specific requirements to meet Hrundal.”

“Excuse me?”

“If he has decided to invite you, you will surely meet him!”

... Most of the shamans were useless.

Shamans were essentially priests serving Hrundal. Emphasizing 'faith' and 'will' was expected.

“...”

Ian received advice from the shamans, but none of it was helpful.

They told him to wander with faith...

Even Takarion could have said that.

Grumbling, Ian prepared to explore the mountain.

[Ian.]

The phoenix, Winnie, spoke.

[What are you planning to do now?]

“I was thinking of wandering around the mountain.”

[... There’s a place I’d like to show you. Can we go there?]

Of course, Ian was about to nod.

That is, until Winnie added something else.

[Just the three of us—me, you, and Kira.]

Why just the three of them?

The reason wasn’t hard to guess.

Winnie's time was running out.

Ian nodded heavily.

“Alright, let’s go.”

He told his companions that he would be going somewhere for a while, taking only Kira and Winnie with him.

“Hm...”

The perceptive Belenka understood why it had to be just the three of them.

“What?! You’re only taking Kira with you? Then our dear Belenka will be lonely and...!”

“Quiet.”

Belenka kicked Takarion and waved her hand.

“Go ahead. Just don’t take too long.”

“I’ll be back within a day.”

Ian began climbing the mountain with Kira. The atmosphere was slightly awkward since they had never spent time alone together since Kira joined the party.

Fortunately, Winnie spoke first.

[Ian, go straight up this path.]

“What’s up there?”

Winnie chirped.

[The mountain summit.]

Ian was inwardly impressed.

Wow... we're even going to the mountaintop now. How are we getting back down?

[We’ll wait here.]

“Alright.”

Ian continued alone towards the summit. The cold wind whipped his cheeks, but he didn’t have time to think about the cold. Instead, he listened to the mystical voices surrounding him.

The open summit, the sea of clouds drifting by, the bright but not warm sun...

The view from the mountain peak was breathtakingly beautiful.

Thud.

Something fell from his pocket. It was an Arcana card that had slipped out of his deck.

Card 21. The World.

Ian bent down to pick up the card. At that moment...

“... Huh?”

Everything went pitch black.

Holding the card, Ian looked around in a daze.

Sheer cliffs, an endlessly towering ice castle.

It was a surreal and overwhelming landscape, like something a mad artist on the edge of sanity might paint.

Ian mumbled to himself.

“Ice Palace...”

The afterlife believed in by the Northerners.

Ian was certain he was standing before the Ice Palace.

A voice came from somewhere.

[You have arrived, servant of the Sunbearer.]

A barely dressed woman with wings sprouting from her shoulders descended before Ian.

Ian spoke in the language of Maronius.

“[Who are you?]”

[Oh, as expected, the servant of the Sunbearer does not know me. I am a Valkyrie. I guide the dead to the Ice Palace.]

The woman, who introduced herself as a Valkyrie, spread her wings wide.

Ian felt a chill.

‘Am I... dead?’

The Ice Palace was an afterlife.

In principle, only the dead could enter.

However, just as in old myths and tales, living humans sometimes ventured into the realm of the dead.

Ian was one such case.

[You are alive, so you cannot stay long.]

The Valkyrie extended her hand.

Ian was led by the Valkyrie, who took him across the sky.

She placed him in the middle of a cold ice castle and then disappeared.

Most of the castle's decorations were paintings.

There were pictures he recognized from Arcana cards and primitive drawings he had seen in Hrundal's temple.

“You have arrived.”

Ian shuddered at the voice behind him.

A woman with long silver hair flowing down to her feet was painting with an expressionless face.

“Hmm. This isn't bad.”

She murmured as she put down her brush and showed Ian the painting.

It was a picture of a man.

Black hair, black eyes. A raven perched on his shoulder, holding a long staff.

‘... Is that me?’

Ian was bewildered as he looked at the man in the painting.

Judging by the expression and the shape of the face, it was indeed Ian...

But this Ian looked much older than the current one.

In his 30s? Or maybe 40s?

“What is this?”

Ian asked out of pure curiosity.

The woman with long silver hair—Hrundal, the Northern god—answered cheerfully.

“Of course, it’s you. Ian Eredith Raven.”

Hrundal stood up from her seat.

“Welcome to my palace, wizard.”

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