Chapter 3

Translator: Pai_

Turan, who crushed the head of the Magical Beast in a single strike, approached Keorn while holding the slingshot in one hand.

In truth, deciding to help this knight was a significant risk even for Turan.

If Keorn were to return to the house he served and merely mention that there was a young, capable slave here, Turan would have no choice but to run for his life immediately.

Even so, Turan stepped in because protecting a guest was the rightful duty of the lord of Hisaril Hill, and also because the old knight had maintained his courtesy as a guest and shown respect toward Turan.

"Are you alright?"

But for some reason, instead of focusing on Turan, Keorn was warily eyeing the leopard Magical Beast, whose head lay shattered and sprawled out.

"Be careful!"

There was no need to ask what that meant.

The leopard Magical Beast, now headless, suddenly raised its body and charged at Turan.

Where its head used to be, now completely smashed, an undulating light of pale green radiance began to rise.

Fortunately, thanks to the prior warning, Turan managed to kick the charging body of the Magical Beast and create some distance.

The body of the Magical Beast, forcefully kicked, rolled dozens of meters away. However, it didn't seem to have taken much damage.

"Undead Spirits cannot be killed with physical attacks!"

"Then how do I kill it?"

"With fire or lightning!"

Following the advice, Turan immediately tried to ignite flames on the body of the Magical Beast. However, just as before, the flame, which had seemed ready to erupt into a flash of lightning, fizzled out helplessly.

Upon witnessing this, Keorn finally became certain that it was Turan who had killed the Magical Beast earlier.

For any Wizard, it was basic knowledge that directly applying magical power to another magical creature required appropriate causality. However, the young shepherd standing before him seemed entirely oblivious to such principles.

Naturally, Turan would also be unaware of concepts such as dispersing the magic power of a slain Magical Beast.

"Don't just light the fire, form it and shoot it!"

Even as Keorn offered advice, he doubted Turan would be able to manage it.

While igniting flames was something even young wizards could instinctively achieve, controlling them directly was a skill that required dedicated training.

But, as if to immediately dispel Keorn’s worries, the flame that emerged above Turan's hand began to spin around his hand and then shot out toward the Magical Beast as if propelled by centrifugal force.

It followed the principle of slingshot throwing, Turan's most familiar method of attack.

[■□■□■□■--]

As the flying flame clung to the spiritual body, the Magical Beast let out a shriek and rolled on the ground.

It seemed to be attempting to extinguish the flames by rubbing against the ground, but the magical fire continued to burn relentlessly, consuming its master’s magic power as fuel.

Unlike Keorn’s attacks, which had been completely ineffective, this signified that Turan’s magic power was clearly superior to that of the opponent.

With sharp focus, Turan continuously poured his energy into ensuring that the flames engulfing the Magical Beast’s body did not die out.

After about thirty seconds, the spiritual body enveloping the Magical Beast let out a final wail before the body itself was consumed and burned away in an instant.

Both Turan and Keorn let out sighs of relief simultaneously.

"Is it really over now?"

"Yes... For now, absorb the magic power. Unless you want to encounter another Undead Spirit."

The process of absorbing magic power wasn’t particularly difficult.

Stretch out your hand above the corpse and imagine inhaling something invisible.

That alone caused an aura, the same color as the earlier spiritual body, to flow out and seep into his body.

For the first time in his life, Turan felt a chilling sensation.

It felt as though something was gradually being stored inside his body, making him stronger and transforming him into a foreign, more formidable existence.

The thrilling yet eerie pleasure made his entire body shiver.

"Is this really your first time absorbing magic power?"

"Yes."

"Hard to believe..."

Magical power typically grows slowly with age after the initial awakening, but unless one absorbs it by killing other Magical Beasts or wizards, the rate of growth is not particularly high.

In that case, does this mean that the power Turan had just displayed was solely the result of his innate strength?

Considering that the growth limit through magical power absorption is proportional to the amount of innate magical power, it was clear that his potential was extraordinary.

Newly realizing this fact, Keorn cleared his throat lightly before asking in a polite tone.

“I have been quite disrespectful until now, young master. May I ask which house you belong to?”

Turan felt uncomfortable with Keorn's such polite attitude.

He couldn’t clearly explain why, but… he didn’t want to see this old knight lowering himself in this way.

"Let's tend to your wounds first before talking."

Keorn was still bleeding profusely from the area above his eyebrow, where the Magical Beast's claws had scratched him.

* * *

“Ugh…”

Keorn groaned softly as he applied herbal juice with a hemostatic effect to his head and wrapped it with a bandage.

Turan’s home had been stocked with medicinal herbs and bandages, though the latter were closer to well-cleaned cloth strips, in preparation for injuries. Because of this, he was able to perform decent first aid.

If only he could heal injuries instantly using magic, it would have been ideal. However, based on past experience treating his mother’s bruises, healing another person’s wounds consumed an excessive amount of magical power.

In fact, it would likely take all of Turan’s magical power just to barely repair the torn scalp on Keorn’s head.

“My apologies, young master. To think I made someone as distinguished as you take on such a task.”

“I’ve told you several timesm I’m not distinguished. I’m just a shepherd who doesn’t even know who his father is.”

Pouring his frustration into his gaze, Turan stared sharply at the old knight, trying to convey his message: Don’t treat me like that.

After a brief staring contest, Keorn shook his head as if conceding defeat.

"Alright, alright... stop looking at me like that."

At this, Turan also let out a small laugh.

“But why is someone as powerful as you, a wizard, working as a shepherd in a place like this? I mean no disrespect to shepherding, but it doesn’t seem to suit you.”

It was a question that flipped the one Turan had asked yesterday, why someone like Keorn had been hunting Magical Beasts in this place.

Turan couldn’t answer with the same pride Keorn had shown yesterday about his work. He didn’t feel proud of being a shepherd.

“It’s a long story.”

Turan began to recount his childhood in an indifferent tone.

How he had awakened to magic, the terrifying stories about nobles his mother had told him, and so on...

After listening to everything, Keorn nodded.

"She was wise."

“Do you think so?”

Turan raised his eyebrows slightly, finding Keorn’s answer somewhat unexpected.

He had thought that someone like Keorn, who seemed proud of his status, would dismiss his mother’s fears as excessive and claim that the world beyond the hill wasn’t as hellish as she had described.

“About twenty years ago, the House Arabion I served went to war with the great House Zahar. At that time, out of three thousand knights of Arabion, over nine hundred were killed.”

“Nearly a third of them died.”

“The truly unfortunate part is that everyone I personally knew was among that third. My two closest friends, my wife, and my son all died. Only I survived.”

Keorn’s face, as he spoke, carried a complex emotion that was difficult to describe.

Turan couldn’t even begin to fathom the depth of his sorrow.

All Turan could do was guess that Keorn's sorrow must have been as profound as when he had lost his mother, perhaps even deeper.

After a long silence, Keorn brightened his expression and shifted the subject.

“As your mother said, the life of a knight is often more fleeting and fragile than that of a commoner. But if there’s one thing she was wrong about, it’s this: the talent you possess far exceeds that of a mere knight.”

“Does it?”

“It’s a little embarrassing to say this in my current state, but I’m a knight of considerable skill. And yet, you easily defeated a Magical Beast that even I would have struggled against, and you did it without even properly absorbing magic power.”

After catching his breath with a sip of goat’s milk, Keorn made his declaration.

“That level of ability qualifies you as a noble, and not just any noblem, at least one from the upper ranks.”

To Turan, this talk didn’t feel very real.

Perhaps it was because he had spent so many years believing his mother’s assessment that his talent was only that of a knight.

Or perhaps Keorn was simply overestimating him.

“My mother told me that my father was a knight. Could she have been lying?”

“Exceptions always exist, just as not all children born to tall parents are tall themselves. Sometimes, a noble-level wizard is born from knights, or a noble produces someone less capable than a knight. These cases are rare, but they do happen.”

Turan thought of the villagers, specifically the carpenter’s family.

The carpenter couple, who were both short, had a first son who was as short as they were, but their second son had grown tall.

Of course, that second son happened to bear a striking resemblance to a certain burly woodcutter in the village...

“For that reason, I believe it would be better for you to go down from this hill.”

"Why is that?"

"Because we humans need more nobles and knights. Humanity has not yet become the true ruler of the world. Magical Beasts, as well as various non-human races who were pushed aside by the gods in ancient times, are all biding their time, waiting for a chance to rise again. And meanwhile, the nobles are too busy waging war against each other. A strong and virtuous noble like you is desperately needed, even if it’s just one more person.”

Non-human races...

They were beings Turan had only heard of a few times in the old tales his mother used to tell him. To him, they were as fanciful and unrealistic as gods or demons.

But it seemed that, in the world below the hill, they were considered a tangible threat.

“Besides, it’s a shame to see a talented young man like you waste his life here. You’re not truly content living as a shepherd, are you?”

Was Keorn remembering how Turan had avoided giving a proper answer earlier when asked why he worked as a shepherd?

After a moment of silence, Turan nodded slightly in agreement.

“Your mother’s fears are understandable, but they are largely unfounded. Ordinary knights might be at risk, but even the great houses show a certain degree of respect toward fellow nobles. And someone as powerful as you? There’s no question about it.”

“So I don’t have to worry about being dragged off by some house against my will?”

“As with all things in the world, there are no absolute guarantees.”

A torrent of thoughts raced through Turan’s mind.

There was a part of him that wanted to believe in Keorn’s words, yet the fear of nobles, ingrained in him over a lifetime, refused to vanish entirely.

These conflicting emotions stood in sharp opposition, creating a heavy tension within him.

While Turan remained lost in thought, Keorn sat patiently on the bed, his body wrapped in bandages, quietly waiting for him to come to a decision.

After tens of minutes passed, Turan finally spoke in a low voice.

“What could I gain if I go down there?”

Reading the determination in Turan's words to venture out into the world, Keorn smiled and answered.

“That depends on what you desire. Wealth, fame, power… or perhaps family, friendship, and other such things. Whatever it may be, it would be difficult to obtain those here.”

Keorn began listing various paths Turan could take in the wider world.

He could roam the lands like Keorn himself, slaying Magical Beasts that threaten people. He could become an explorer, venturing into unknown worlds that humanity has yet to chart. Or he could be adopted into a noble house and walk the path of a powerful ruler…

What was clear was that any of these would likely be more exciting than herding sheep on Hisaril Hill.

“Come to think of it, I forgot to ask, do you happen to have any bloodline abilities? I should have asked this first but it slipped my mind.”

“Bloodline abilities?”

Turan repeated the unfamiliar term, prompting Keorn to click his tongue as if realizing his mistake.

He still wasn’t used to the fact that this young shepherd knew so little about the world of magic.

“Do you at least know that the magical powers we possess originate from our ancestors, the Preah God Tribe?”

“I’ve heard about it from my mother.”

“As nobles are closer to the Preah God Tribe than others, they inherit certain traits from their divine ancestors. The presence or absence of these bloodline abilities is one of the key differences between nobles and knights. Houses tend to form around individuals with the same bloodline abilities.”

“How can you tell if you have a bloodline ability?”

“Have you ever found that some types of magic are unusually easy and simple for you to use, while others feel more difficult? Or perhaps you possess natural abilities that are far superior to others, even without using magic?”

“You’re not talking about just being physically strong, are you?”

“Wizards gain enhanced physical abilities simply by having magic power. Becoming faster, stronger, and tougher is a natural instinct shared by all living creatures. Strength, too, can be a bloodline ability, but I doubt that your strength falls into that category.”

Keorn’s words made Turan pause in thought.

Among the abilities he possessed, which stood out the most…

“I have a good sense of smell. My eyesight and hearing are above average too, but my sense of smell is what stands out the most.”

In particular, he had a remarkable ability to detect the scent of blood. He was so sensitive that he could roughly identify what kind of creature was bleeding just from the smell.

Hearing this, Keorn nodded in agreement.

“An exceptional sense of smell… if it’s that precise, it can definitely be considered a bloodline ability. Anything else?”

“I’m good at throwing stones. Though that’s probably because I’ve been practicing it since I was a child, thanks to my mother.”

Turan had been learning how to use a slingshot from his mother since the age of five.

For an ordinary shepherd, using a slingshot was the most effective way to deal with their most dangerous enemies, wolves and leopards.

On top of that, as he had recently noticed, throwing stones with force consumed an unusually small amount of magic power.

“Proficiency with projectile weapons… That’s actually one of the traits of our House Arabion. I’m not sure if it qualifies as a full-fledged bloodline ability, though.”

“Is that so?”

“To be honest, it’s a fairly common trait. People are typically categorized into three groups: those skilled in using projectiles, those adept at close combat, or those who are moderately capable at both.”

Following this, Turan and Keorn continued their discussion, sorting through the things Turan was particularly good at and those he wasn’t.

But for some reason, the more they talked, the darker Keorn’s expression became.

That somber look grew more pronounced as their conversation went on, and by the end of their final exchange, Keorn looked as though he were on the verge of lamentation.

“I think I know.”

“Which is it?”

For some reason, Keorn didn’t immediately answer Turan’s question.

After hesitating a few times, he finally opened his mouth, almost unwillingly.

“There are a few possibilities… but the characteristics of the Zahar bloodline stand out the most. They are often called ‘Pursuers’ or ‘Hunters.’”

Zahar.

Turan repeated the name to himself, finding it strangely familiar.

But why? He had never heard stories from his mother about wizard families, so why did it resonate with him?

A glance at Keorn’s gloomy face provided the answer.

Zahar was the name of the house that had waged war against Keorn’s House Arabion, the very house that had slaughtered all of Keorn’s friends and family.