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Whether it’s fortunate or not, Karem’s sudden growth didn’t create as much of a stir in Winterhome as Catherine or the person involved thought it would.

Of course, there’s the curse.

And a dark magic curse at that, which is a big deal.

It’s a taboo, after all.

But if that curse had killed Karem, it might be a different story. The person in question, while a bit older, was still perfectly alive.

Naturally, the number of those who gleamed with excitement over the prospect of a once ho-hum asset suddenly turning into prime real estate was bound to increase, but for now, the rest turned their eyes away, waving their hands dismissively.

There was something far more tempting than that trivial matter, with the rumors spreading in Winterhome.

“…Is it true what they say?”

“Yes! It’s real. No, I saw it myself!”

“No way, but three mammoths like that—”

“Not just one or two; three of them!”

And just like that, the rumor became truth thanks to the witness’s account.

Mammoths.

A delicacy that any gourmet would never overlook.

Not one, but three mammoths.

In Iceland, or rather the Kingdom of Seophone, there’s hardly anyone who doesn’t enjoy meat unless there’s a compelling reason.

For this reason, the news that mammoth meat had arrived at the Wizard’s Tower spread throughout the entire castle before half a day had even passed in Winterhome.

All the credit goes to the soldiers and servants who had been part of the caravan and battle.

“Oh my goodness. Only nobles can even dream of such a thing.”

“Not really. Who does Karem know? The cooks? The warehouse manager? What would I have to prepare just to scrape a little bit of that—”

“Hrumph! Servant! Make a request for a visit to the Wizard’s Tower under my name.”

“Baron Bolton’s territory has been devastated, so there’ll undoubtedly be repair costs. If we prepare a large sum, we might be able to salvage something. Where’s the ledger!? Where did I leave it!?”

“Rumor has it that His Grace, the Duke, will send a gift of mammoths come spring next year—”

“Really?”

Mammoth meat stoked the hearts of everyone in Winterhome.

Those who had tasted it recalled their past experiences.

Those who had only heard of it clasped their hearts with anticipation.

Countless gazes focused on the Wizard’s Tower.

*

*

*

While Winterhome was bustling quietly.

A guest had arrived at the Duke of Iceland’s office.

Although it was an unexpected visit, Alfred was more than happy to make time.

One of the two Grand Wizards of Coldon.

The Duke of Iceland’s chief magic consultant.

Alfred initially intended to postpone the audience until Catherine regained her strength.

He had learned about Catherine’s circumstances straight away.

It was not the case that he had failed a commissioned task, nor had a delayed return due to an external factor like a siege been a matter worthy of troubling her.

“Hih… Hih-chuu!”

But Catherine insisted on meeting Alfred as soon as possible, even if it meant pushing herself.

“…You could take your time to recover.”

“This is more urgent.”

Alfred thought her cough oddly fitting.

Little did Catherine know.

Click-

Catherine placed a box on the table and gently pushed it towards Alfred with her fingertips.

It contained an item that Richard had secretly requested from her, brought carefully from Afterglow Fortress.

“Is this really that urgent?”

Alfred looked at Catherine with concern.

Honestly, he wasn’t in a position to speak, considering he had been the one pushing her too hard lately, yet Catherine visibly looked like she could collapse from exhaustion at any moment.

“My lord. Do you remember the incident in Fungusbee Village?”

“Yes. You directly reported that a mysterious necromancer caused a disaster.”

“And at that time, one of the Three Divine Ones appeared in person.”

“Was it the scales of Naglfar? The artifact used by the confirmed necromancer? I can’t believe such legendary tales just popped up suddenly—”

Even recalling the incident left Alfred flabbergasted, rendering him a bit silly. And he quickly fell back into a serious demeanor, focusing on the table.

Kkkssssss—

Oooooooh!

As the box opened, a heavy mist flowed forth like a thick fog of malice over the table.

A magical presence so eerie that simply looking at it sent shivers down the spine.

“…Could it be this sinister artifact?”

“Yes? It’s the byproduct of the Fell Dragon Naglfar. It’s certain.”

From the box emerged countless decaying, ash-gray claws that looked like scales, sprouting from a lone tooth that lay ominously on the ornate pedestal.

The evil aura felt back then.

The chilling sensation.

Catherine was certain. Even the best necromancy expert in Coldon, Narque, had verified this.

“The first time can be called a coincidence.”

The first incident.

Happened just a stone’s throw from the heart of Iceland in Fungusbee.

The suspect appeared to be a necromancer trying to acquire the dragon’s magic using the scales of Naglfar, presumably causing it to run amok and fail.

And the second?

The invasion of the Undead Legion at the northern frontlines.

The byproduct stashed away from the body of the main culprit.

Alfred instinctively clutched his head. Just as he had hoped things would calm down, another troublesome issue had cropped up.

“The second was inevitable. That troublesome father has created another workload.”

“In one year, all incidents were traced back to the same object.”

“Wait, wasn’t it said that demons had infiltrated the fortress? Shapeshifters?”

“Yes. We also received several pieces of evidence, including the leather from them.”

“Demons? For heaven’s sake, we need to send out a warning across Iceland right away—”

“My lord. Not just Iceland.”

Saying that, Catherine pulled out a scroll from her cloak.

It contained the documentation for the cold-resistance potion they had acquired during the siege.

“The first was just outside Coldon, and the other was at the northern front. The plans of unidentified enemies have already failed twice in Iceland.”

“Then the next target isn’t Iceland.”

There was no way a meticulous foe, capable of planting spies for over a year within one of the five most critical facilities of the Kingdom of Seophone, would attempt a third strike in a place that had already seen two failures.

A warning was needed.

At the very least, it was essential to inform his lord, the King of Seophone.

With a sharp expression, Alfred accepted the parchment.

Catherine let out a small sigh.

In this world, there is no absolute certainty.

Intelligent people tend to overlook many things.

Catherine closed her eyes and let out a small breath of relief. Thankfully, her lord didn’t overlook this issue.

As she thought she could finally put a significant matter to rest, a heavy weight suddenly pressed down on her.

An indistinct divinity.

As it intensified, she quickly turned her head.

—-Caw-caw-caw-caw-caw!

With the low, echoing sound of a raven’s call behind her, the fireplace blazing and the flickering candles froze in place.

And in the space between Catherine and Alfred, where there had been nothing, there sat a dark figure clothed in a robe adorned with raven feathers.

Catherine had met him face-to-face before, while Alfred, being a native of Iceland, recognized him from the holy flame in the temple and rose from his seat.

Suddenly—

“I, Alfred, grandson of Richard, son of Aesled, rediscovers the nameless traveler.”

“Once again—”

Swoosh

With a gesture that was both an elegant wave and a search of the surroundings, the nameless traveler glanced around as if searching for something.

…

“Pardon? Are you referring to Karem?”

…

Alfred was flustered by the unexpected question and turned his gaze to Catherine.

If there was anyone who would know, it would be his immediate superior.

“Thanks to the sudden awakening of divine power, Elder Iona—”

“What? Divine power? Who? Is it Karem?”

“We’re not quite sure what happened during the process of overcoming the curse of aging—”

…

At this, the nameless traveler waved his hand dismissively.

It seemed he was not interested in discussing the matter, which caused both the servants to take their seats.

For some reason, it felt like the nameless traveler’s robe had shrunk slightly in disappointment.

*

*

*

Borrowed divinity from the divine.

Using it forms the foundation of sacred magic.

Its history is as long as religion itself.

There were gods and religions even before the emergence of magic or aura.

While it has such a long history, in contrast to magic and aura, structured academic systems for mastering divine power are nearly non-existent.

The reason is simple.

It is incredibly abstract.

Assuming divine power depends entirely on the devout belief, prayer, and faith of the believer.

The sacred arts, which are based on divine power, are the same.

Of course, there are structured education programs.

After all, with such a lengthy history, it’s impossible not to provide at least elementary education.

Although there is a trivial problem that there hasn’t been an ounce of advancement since the era of the Ancient Palatino Empire, which was the most radiant in Europan history.

“Excuse me… Elder Iona?”

“Oh my, the awakening of divine power can vary significantly from person to person, but this level is kind of shocking.”

“It’s quite, uh, overwhelming.”

“Ah? Oh, I’m sorry. But you must have grasped the rough idea by now, right?”

“Yes. It feels something rather marvelous.”

Having held onto Karem’s hand, Elder Iona backed away.

“I see awakenings happen from time to time, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen such strength that it startled me. It’s been ages since I’ve encountered something of this caliber.”

“Is that so?”

“Your voice seems filled with doubt.”

“No, you just made vague statements too suddenly.”

“Divine power can awaken at any age if a believer has faith and devotion; it can occur unexpectedly based on various circumstances. There is some influence from talents and abilities, but it is trivial.”

Rubbing his aching hands, he surveyed the surroundings.

The splendid temple filled with various holy icons and statues, quite different from what he had seen in Afterglow Fortress, felt very familiar to Karem.

“Are you perhaps interested in religion?”

“Um, are you trying to convert me?”

Karem was taken aback by the proposal, having heard similar invitations even in his previous life.

He never imagined he would hear such words after being reincarnated.

However, Elder Iona’s expression was quite serious.

“Such a deep resonance of divinity. For someone with such divine power at this level…”

The head of the sect worshiping the deity.

Or perhaps even a champion.

Elder Iona swallowed her admiration, keeping her mouth shut.

One of the most annoying things about people is when they start their sentences and don’t finish them.

But still, to suggest that he should seriously consider this was somewhat insincere.

But Karem didn’t even need to think about it.

“I’m quite content with my current life. I also need to take care of Sir Atanitas’s curiosity and meals.”

“Hmmm?”

“Your gaze feels odd.”

Elder Iona raised an eyebrow and stared intently. She sensed something mixed in with his earlier firm statement.

Not the usual feelings of obligation, joy, or relief. For an instant, she felt a sweet, stimulating emotion.

Specifically, the moment Catherine was mentioned.

With years of experience accumulated over a long life, she couldn’t help but recognize the nature of that emotion, but chose to let it slide.

Such matters are ideally observed from the sidelines, supporting and encouraging.

Interfering is what only amateurs do.

Then she suddenly recalled the recent rumors floating around.

“Then, since you’re learning to control divine power, it would be good to also learn the basics of sacred magic.”

“The basics?”

“Yes. Starting with the most fundamental healing, purification, consecration, and so forth—”

Elder Iona rolled up the sleeves of her priestly robe and tightened her thick, wrinkled hands.

Tick, tick, tick— *Zzzzzzzzzzz—

Ice crystals blossomed on her skin like scales, completely covering her fist and wrist and eventually transforming into a thick gauntlet. Karem recognized it from when he saw her in Blackwood Village.

“You can also learn the art of holy combat.”

“Oh…”

“Given such power, it would be a waste to let it languish.”

Elder Iona’s suggestion was tempting.

Honestly, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he felt a bit disappointed after being told he lacked talent in magic. Karem did wish to shoot magical blasts from his hands.

So he had half-given up on acquiring a magic tool or something. He couldn’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

“Indeed, it is a waste. I could even use it in cooking.”

“Exactly! With that in mind, I’m hoping to get my hands on some mammoth meat.”

So that was the objective!

No wonder it felt different.

Elder Iona could read the intense craving from Karem’s eyes.

He honestly knew he was being undignified.

But mammoth meat. His embarrassment was a fleeting moment.

If he just held out for a little longer, once Karem consented, the culinary delight of delights would be within his grasp.

“So, as long as you’re okay with that—”

“Excellent choice! Then we can start discussing schedules—”

“Before that, I need some advice.”

“Huh? Advice?”

Elder Iona, initially perplexed, soon brightened her eyes in keen interest at Karem’s reluctance.

“Ha-ha. Even though you’ve grown, you’re still young enough to have such concerns!”

Elder Iona enjoyed watching the youthful troubles of the young man seeking help for a moment, then began recalling the countless young people’s consultations she’d handled in Winterhome, retrieving her mental index.

The age gap was considerable, but after all, she had a naturally youthful demeanor, so it shouldn’t be a problem.

 

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