Shepherd Wizard (Novel) - Chapter 18

Chapter 18

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‘Causality’ was an extremely complex element in using magic.

Whether the intended phenomenon was natural, whether the user clearly recognized the cause of the magical phenomenon, whether the amount of magic power consumed was appropriate to cause that phenomenon…

Among these, the ability to recognize the cause of phenomena was an important factor affecting both magic success rate and power consumption, making a huge difference whether one knew it or not.

The problem was that understanding the principles of ‘decay’ was almost impossible just by looking from the outside.

Even Turan only recognized the existence of microorganisms after learning magic from the librarian to magnify and observe.

Moreover, there was another unintended trap – using decay on living animals was incomparably harder than using it on fruits.

‘That was dangerous.’

Turan realized over a third of his magic power had been consumed as he put down the rotting live mouse.

What was the difference between a living mouse and an apple?

Lack of continuous life force supply? Animal versus plant?

It was hard to guess the exact reason since he hadn’t used this magic often.

Maybe he could understand more precisely by trying the magic on dead animal corpses later…

Anyway, for now he had to act as if he had succeeded effortlessly without showing this.

“Good, now it’s my turn.”

Saying this, Meisa made a light gesture and a gentle breeze began blowing over the garden.

Shortly after, unfortunately, a mouse wandering around the garden’s edge came flying helplessly into her hand.

[Crackle!]

She tried the same magic as Turan, but the mouse only twisted its body trying to escape without any other reaction.

“Hmm…”

Meisa held a mouse in each hand and rolled her protruding eyes back and forth looking at them alternately.

As if trying to find what difference there was between the two.

Seeing this grotesque sight, Asiz, now freed from the vines, spoke with a disgusted expression.

“Why use such magic of all things? It’s really creepy.”

“It was just the first thing that came to mind.”

Actually, the reason he chose this magic was because it had little practical use.

There would rarely be time to grab an opponent and wait several seconds during fights between magicians.

He also wanted to gauge how much knowledge of natural laws the Arabion family possessed.

‘I doubted it, but even a great family like Arabion… doesn’t know well?’

When learning ancient knowledge from the librarian, Turan had suspected that old magician families would monopolize such knowledge.

Since magicians who knew this would have absolute advantage over those who didn’t.

But contrary to expectations, Meisa didn’t seem to know these things very well.

Was it because she was young and shallow in learning? Or perhaps…

“Looks like it’s not working, Meisa. How about calling it Turan’s win?”

While Turan was lost in thought, Asiz spoke in a teasing tone toward Meisa who was frowning while holding the mouse.

At those words, sharpness entered her eyes which always had depression and languor underlying them.

“I can do it too.”

Taking a light breath, Meisa’s eyes glared at the mouse as if to pierce it.

One way to fill insufficient causality in using magic was inputting massive magic power to make up for inefficiency with quantity.

In extreme cases, powerful magicians like great family heads could even instantly kill ordinary knights with a word, as if killing animals.

Though they would nearly collapse from exhaustion in exchange for killing one person.

“Just a little more…”

Meisa kept praying while holding the mouse.

Rot, rot, rot while alive-

An inefficient magic attempt without familiarity or proper understanding of principles.

How much power did she invest, not caring that magic power was being rapidly drained from her body?

Finally, the healthy mouse began to rot.

Though slower than what Turan had done earlier, it was clearly the same phenomenon.

“Oh, you did it?”

Next to Asiz’s exclamation, Turan also widened his eyes in surprise.

Could she have realized that the secret of decay magic was ‘growth and enhancement of microorganisms that rot living things’?

“…I did it.”

At that moment, Meisa collapsed with those words.

While the escaped mouse ran away screaming, Turan and Asiz quickly supported her as she fell.

“Meisa! What’s wrong!? Open your eyes!”

While Asiz shouted urgently, Turan analyzed her face and body condition.

‘What’s the reason? Too much magic power used? But magic depletion shouldn’t cause collapse.’

Turan had depleted his magic power several times practicing magic in childhood but never fainted from it.

He just suffered from exhaustion since he didn’t even have power to enhance his body…

Along with that thought, seeing Meisa’s skeletal body brought something to mind.

‘That’s it.’

“Is there no healer bloodline magician here?”

“No!”

“Then have water and salt brought to this lady’s room. And bring the adults too.”

After giving instructions, Turan immediately lifted Meisa.

A body weight equivalent to only three or four newborn lambs…

Certainly, such a body couldn’t function properly without magic power’s help.

Her body, forcibly maintained through magic enhancement, had clearly broken down when magic power was depleted.

* * *

“Ugh…”

“Meisa, are you alright? Are you conscious?”

Meisa Arabion painfully opened her eyes at the woman’s voice calling her.

The Berk family head Midela, her second cousin aunt, was looking down with a worried face.

“Why am I…?”

“Asiz said you suddenly collapsed while practicing magic with a guest. Is that right?”

Only then did she recall the memory she had momentarily forgotten.

The magic competition with that slick-looking man who her cousin brother promoted as both lifesaver and magic genius, how she had invested excessive magic power to copy what she couldn’t do when her pride was hurt by him showing off what she couldn’t accomplish…

“That’s right. Where are they?”

“For now we’re having them stay and keeping watch at the temple. We don’t know if that person might have done something strange to you.”

“No, that’s not it. I did something foolish.”

Meisa painfully shook her head and raised herself from the bed.

As changed clothes slipped down revealing her bony forearm, seeing this, Midela carefully spoke.

“I had some soup made. I know you don’t eat because of magic, but shouldn’t you think about your health? I hope you won’t take offense.”

“Thank you, Aunt. Would it be alright if I rest a bit more?”

“Yes, rest more.”

After confirming Midela had left the room, Meisa stared blankly at the soup placed beside the bed then levitated it before her with a light gesture.

Her stomach violently churned at the rich aroma of flour, butter and milk mixed together.

As if crying out for nutrients to be supplied to this body.

Meisa picked up the spoon and carefully put a spoonful of soup in her mouth.

Her tongue and stomach rejoicing at receiving something other than water and salt for the first time in long, and then-

Four pairs of eyes staring at her and shedding bloody tears.

[Please save us, Meisa. You can do it, can’t you…]

[It hurts so much, sister.]

“Ugh-”

Feeling the sour stench of vomit wetting her mouth and body, Meisa laughed like sobbing.

* * *

In the basement of the Berk family mansion was a temple enshrining the Lame Goddess.

This temple served two main functions.

A space for family members to pray to the god, and a room for temporarily confining those awkward to put in prison or of high status.

This was because the temple had only one entrance, and both door and walls were too solid to dare break through.

“So don’t have any foolish thoughts.”

“Yes, I understand.”

After taking Meisa to her room and explaining the situation, Turan was confined to this temple by Midela who politely asked for understanding.

Though Asiz testified for him, there was a possibility Turan had done something to harm Meisa.

Since the truth would be revealed once she woke up anyway, Turan decided to quietly stay in the temple instead of making a fuss.

As for not confining Asiz who was also present during the incident, well, that was unavoidable since he was family.

Sitting against the wall, he looked at the guard standing opposite.

A sturdy man with a large sword at his waist.

His name was Haram Berk, a guardian bloodline noble who had joined the Berk family through marriage.

While sitting quietly with closed eyes reviewing the magic Meisa had shown to kill time, he heard the sharp sound of wind being cut.

Opening his eyes, he saw Haram enthusiastically swinging his sword through the air.

“What are you doing?”

“Training.”

Haram answered briefly then resumed swinging his sword.

Downward slash, thrust, spinning cut then raising the sword overhead for consecutive left and right slashes…

If a commoner or knight did this with a blade it would just look silly, but when a noble born with superior physical abilities through bloodline power wielded such techniques, the pressure was on a different level.

It looked as if shadows of blades were wrapping around his body.

Though he wondered if it was alright to brandish swords before the goddess statue, since the movements looked as elegant as dance, Turan sat quietly observing.

“Oh…”

An unconscious exclamation of admiration.

Hearing this, Haram suddenly stopped sword practice and stared at him.

“Ah, I’m sorry. Was I disturbing you?”

“No.”

Despite saying that, instead of resuming sword training, Haram just kept staring intently at Turan.

After a moment of silence, he spoke up with an unexpected question.

“Are you interested in swordsmanship?”

“What?”

What was this sudden random question?

Turan felt confused for a moment but answered honestly.

“Interest… I’m not sure, but I did think it looked impressive.”

“I see.”

After answering curtly, Haram drew his sword again, performed a few more movements, then spoke.

“Most nobles look down on martial arts or weapon skills. Since it’s easier and stronger to attack directly with magic. They think only knights learn such things.”

“Well, it is somewhat inefficient unless you have a bloodline specialized for close combat.”

Nobles were divided into those good at applying power to their own bodies according to bloodline and those good at projecting it outward, with most being the latter, making nobles skilled in close combat rare.

Even Turan’s bloodline, if defining the ratio between ranged and close-range abilities, was about 7:3, relatively more adept at projecting magic at range.

“But in actual combat, situations arise where you have to face it even if you want to avoid it.”

Turan spoke recalling when he had kicked the leopard monster on the hill and when he had slashed the rabbit monster’s throat.

But hearing this, Haram tilted his head then suddenly held out his sword reversed to him.

“Would you like to try?”

“I’m here because I’m suspicious, is it alright to give me a weapon?”

“You’re not a warrior so it doesn’t matter.”

Turan understood the meaning only after turning those words over several times.

It meant it didn’t matter whether he was given a sword or not since he would obviously be terrible at using it.

Looking at that dazzling swordplay earlier, it was hard to see it as arrogance.

If they both held swords and fought without magic, clearly even ten Turans wouldn’t be a match.

“Well…”

Turan awkwardly gripped the sword with both hands and took stance and movements as Haram instructed.

Unlike magic that worked as desired right away, even he could feel his movements were quite clumsy.

“That’s not it, extend your front leg more-”

“Your elbow is too high. You’ll cut your thigh with the sword that way.”

“Raise your arms more.”

Haram, who seemed taciturn at first, became surprisingly talkative once he started teaching swordsmanship.

After learning basic swordsmanship for about thirty minutes, Turan massaged his stiff wrists as he returned the sword.

“Here you go. I’d like to do more but it’s tough…”

“This sword is matched to my bloodline. It’s heavy for ordinary nobles.”

No wonder – with a normal iron sword he wouldn’t tire even swinging it for three hours, let alone thirty minutes.

Could this swordsman have been trying to drain his stamina under the pretext of sword training to prevent escape?

While internally suspicious, Haram spoke as if advising toward Turan who was rubbing his forearms.

“It would be good to make time to train your body if possible. Though magic power guarantees some physical ability even without exercise, there’s still a big difference between properly building strength or not.”

Indeed, if a situation came where he had to resort to close combat in a truly urgent moment, it seemed learning such skills to some degree would help.

Though he would be no match fighting someone with a bloodline specialized for close combat like Haram before him, it could be another weapon when fighting someone with similar level of power.

While learning exercises to loosen overworked muscles lastly, the temple door opened and Family Head Midela entered.

She first bowed her head politely and apologized.

“I apologize for the rudeness, Turan. We’ve done wrong by our benefactor.”

“I see the lady is safe. I should apologize too. My conduct was inappropriate as a guest.”

Turan received Midela’s apology with a gentle attitude.

It was a reasonably appropriate measure given the situation where their serving family’s heir suddenly collapsed.

Hearing their conversation, Haram nodded and spoke.

“Good that nothing happened.”

“Thank you for your work, Haram.”

“Must follow the family head’s orders. Then I’ll take my leave.”

Haram gave a quick bow to the family head then immediately left the temple.

“I hope Haram wasn’t rude. He’s quite brusque by nature. There would have been no ill intent.”

“Rather, I received teaching.”

At Turan’s answer, Midela nodded with a faint smile, then brought up unexpected words.

“That’s good then. By the way… Meisa said she wanted to apologize to you, would you be able to spare some time?”