Shepherd Wizard (Novel) - Chapter 84
Chapter 84
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Discord
[Frost is one of his bloodlines. Be careful.]
[And the other?]
[I do not know. But it seems likely geared toward close combat. His magic capacity is top-tier, somewhere between you two.]
Before the fight, Turan used wind magic to discreetly spread his voice and converse with his companions.
Of course, Solif, the only one among them not adept at handling wind, could only listen.
In the fleeting gap created by this exchange, Lenod seized the moment and swung his ice axe. A chilling arc of light shot forth from the blade in a crescent shape.
The target was Turan, standing in the center of the three.
“Ugh!”
Turan immediately raised a wall of earth to block it, but astonishingly, the arc sliced through the magic-infused stone wall with ease and rushed toward him.
At that instant, a green shield sprang from his body and intercepted it, freezing upon impact.
It was an automatic defense artifact taken from a Baraha noble.
‘That was close.’
Turan narrowed his eyes at the destructive force transmitted through the shield.
That attack was excessively powerful for the amount of magic Lenod possessed, and its magical principles were incomprehensible.
Could it be related to the melding of his two bloodlines?
“Hup!”
At that moment, Solif let out a shout and upheaved the ground, firing dozens of rock projectiles forward.
Meisa followed suit, conjuring multiple flaming spears and launching them. Unable to press his offensive, Lenod swung his axe to deflect them and retreated.
“No, how is this strength…”
Unlike his earlier confidence, a hint of dismay now crossed his face.
Until moments ago, Turan’s group had only used upper-tier noble-level power to overwhelm the Nagin mages, but now they were unleashing their full strength.
Of course, since they deliberately avoided using bloodline abilities, it could not be said they were going all out.
While the two relentlessly attacked, Turan pulled out a light-devouring cloth and used it to swallow the orb of light Lenod had created.
The brightly lit campsite plunged into darkness in an instant. The trio concealed themselves again, hurling hidden weapons or freezing the blood of nearby corpses to fire as projectiles.
Turan tossed a long, slender needle-shaped weapon and clicked his tongue.
‘This never feels natural.’
The hidden weapons they used belonged to Leto, a Zahar noble from Arabion. Naturally, since they had not practiced wielding them proficiently, their effectiveness was dismal.
Had they not intended to masquerade as Zahar assassins, they would have had no reason to use such things.
“Ugh…!”
But Lenod could not deflect these clumsy attacks as easily as before.
The stealth ability made it impossible for him to tell where the projectiles were coming from.
Each time he tried to create light again, Turan used the artifact to snuff it out, and countering that left him unable to deal with the relentless assaults from the other two.
“Arghhh!”
Unable to endure it, Lenod roared in fury, and a frigid chill spread outward.
The mildly cool air turned so cold in an instant that even breaths seemed to freeze, causing the fallen Nagin knights to shiver uncontrollably.
“L-Lenod, sir.”
“It is t-too cold…”
With that single shout, Lenod dropped the surrounding temperature, then gestured to conjure dozens of ice spikes, firing them in all directions to locate his unseen foes.
Of course, when those who could see fought those who could not in a projectile exchange, the outcome was obvious.
As cuts and stabs accumulated, Lenod’s body gradually became stained with blood.
‘Something is off…’
While continuing the assault, Turan lightly wet his finger with saliva and waved it in the air.
Though the climate here was quite dry, Lenod was condensing ice and using it as projectiles with astonishing ease.
Even with the Eddy bloodline’s water manipulation, exerting such power in this environment should not be so effortless.
Moreover, despite continuously creating ice, the air did not even feel drier.
At this rate, it seemed less like he was gathering moisture to freeze and more like he was outright creating ice.
For about a minute, he resisted like a buffalo hunted by a wolf pack.
When the knights finally succumbed, freezing to death, Lenod, cornered and desperate, turned his eyes bloodshot red.
“Urgh…”
With a low groan, the flow of magic within him surged violently.
Noticing he was up to something, Turan was about to drop his stealth and shout a warning when Lenod stomped the ground with a bang.
“You b*st*rds—!”
An icy sheet spread instantly from his feet, covering a radius of hundreds of meters and turning the ground into a frozen rink.
A spell that coats the ground in ice—what use could that possibly have?
To make it slippery and hard to walk?
As that question crossed his mind, Lenod’s body slid across the ice at a terrifying speed.
It was as if a giant had personally lifted and hurled him.
His target was Solif, who had just exposed his position by throwing a weapon.
“Die—!”
Reaching Solif’s location in an instant, Lenod bellowed like a madman and slammed his axe into the ground.
The seemingly meaningless action produced a staggering result.
With a shattering crunch, ice spikes erupted in a fan shape, covering dozens of meters ahead.
It was as if he was shouting that if they hid with stealth, he would simply obliterate everything.
“Crazy b*st*rd!”
Stunned by the attack aimed at him, Solif activated his Baraha artifact at maximum power.
A white sphere enveloped his body, and the ice spikes crashed against it, grinding with a screeching noise.
‘What kind of strength…!’
Solif’s eyes widened at the pressure transmitted through the sphere.
The artifact he carried was among Baraha’s finest for defense, yet it screeched as if it would shatter any moment.
Turan had said Lenod’s enhanced power was only midway between his and Meisa’s, but this felt like fighting someone with twice their magic.
Having shed his stealth due to the glowing sphere, Lenod spotted him and shouted with a gleeful expression.
“There you are!”
Bloodshot eyes, frothing mouth with drool dripping, and a gaping grin—he looked anything but sane.
The other bloodline he possessed, symbolized by crossed axes, was undoubtedly that of a berserker, trading sanity for immense physical prowess.
Lenod leaped dozens of meters from his spot and swung his axe down, producing a deafening boom as dozens of cracks spiderwebbed across the white sphere.
If that sphere broke and it turned into a melee, his overwhelming physical ability could decide the fight in five seconds flat.
“Damn it, help!”
The moment Solif cried out in desperation, a rock flew from the side and struck Lenod’s head.
Turan’s full-force strike, thrown in a panic, stole a few seconds of Lenod’s consciousness.
“You okay?”
“Not dead… ugh, feels like I got stabbed a few times.”
As Solif grumbled and quickly stealthed to distance himself from the enemy, Meisa uprooted several giant conifers with telekinesis and slammed them down on Lenod, who was just regaining consciousness.
The fully enraged berserker let out a furious roar.
—
Ten minutes later, Turan’s group had restrained the near-dead Lenod with a chain artifact.
In the process, Solif had taken an ice spike through the thigh, and Meisa’s arm had been broken by an axe strike, but they had captured him nonetheless—mission accomplished.
Using the last of their magic to concoct a healing potion for their wounds, the three dragged Lenod to a coniferous grove slightly away from the campsite and dumped him there.
“Phew, I really thought I was done for. If he had been any stronger, we would have had to use our bloodline abilities.”
“So this guy’s identity—it is that, right?”
“Probably.”
Though they avoided naming the god, all three had a hunch about the being within Lenod.
A member of the Freya divine lineage, the Fury of the Cold.
Revered as an ancestor by nobles of the Frost bloodline, including the Karmain family, he was the most likely candidate to possess both Frost and Berserker bloodlines.
‘Though why he is with the Nagin family instead of Karmain is beyond me.’
There were several plausible guesses.
Perhaps their influence had not yet reached Karmain, or…
‘Maybe there is already a different god ruling Karmain.’
Had not the entity that took over Lenod mentioned a “pact” moments ago?
Considering that word implied agreements or treaties between major powers, one possibility sprang to mind.
The remaining Freya gods in this land were not a unified faction.
‘Well, they are called gods, but if they are just powerful humans, it makes sense.’
Given how their mage descendants constantly clashed and vied for power, expecting the gods to be any different was laughable.
While lost in speculation, Solif gazed at the sprawled Lenod and muttered quietly.
“Honestly, looking at him feels weird. We caught that thing. It is not exactly satisfying… more like, empty? Not that it was easy, though.”
He deliberately used “that thing” instead of “god,” likely assuming they might sense something even from mere conversation.
Since they only knew of the library discussion without grasping Turan’s identity or the exact details, their perception seemed imprecise, but avoiding risks was preferable.
Turan nodded in agreement with Solif’s sentiment.
“I get what you mean. I felt a bit of that too.”
He too felt an odd disappointment that the great Freya divine lineage—ancestors of all mages, saviors of humanity against otherworldly beings—had been felled by just the three of them.
It was akin to discovering a revered idol, wished for even a glimpse, was merely a lucky drunkard.
Meisa, standing behind, shook her head at their words.
“It was not empty enough for that, was it? If he could fight us three like this with that body, I cannot even imagine how strong that person must be—it almost feels despairing.”
“Ah, right…”
The mention of Meisa’s father, Badal Arabion, silenced all three for a moment.
The god within Lenod had wielded enough power to hold his own against three top-tier nobles by merely weaving two bloodlines into an upper-tier noble’s body.
What kind of monster would a god be if it resided in a great family head’s body, fully integrating four bloodlines?
Theoretically, even with all three possessing great-family-head-level magic, they might not dare guarantee victory…
The mere thought threatened to sap their confidence, so Turan shook his head and changed the subject.
“For now, let us gather as much information as we can from this chance. While we are at it, we should figure out those suspicious spells he used too.”
“Oh, that light beam thing? That was really weird. I thought it was cold energy, but it had a physical form and froze what it hit.”
“That too, and his ice magic in general felt off. It was somehow different from normal magic.”
When Solif questioned him, Turan explained the ice magic he had observed—seemingly conjured without using moisture—prompting Meisa to add on.
“Right, I noticed while cleaning up: the ice he made vanished without leaving water. Like it was an illusion.”
“Then ice made from illusions—no, that is not it. Is he summoning ice?”
“That is what we need to find out now.”
Solif groaned at Turan’s words.
Though unseen behind the mask, it was easy to imagine his face contorting in dismay.
“Is it time for that again?”
“If you do not want to watch, you can go keep lookout like before. My buddy is probably bored being alone anyway.”
“No thanks. I should get used to it.”
While bantering lightly with the reluctant Solif, Turan subtly focused on Meisa.
Her expression was hidden by the mask, but he could sense her mind was in turmoil.
[Will you be okay?]
[It does not matter. That body is just the spawn of that filthy woman. He is not my brother.]
When Turan sent his voice discreetly via wind magic, Meisa answered curtly and fell silent.
Turan then poured a small dose of healing potion into Lenod’s mouth and splashed a large water droplet over him.
“Ugh…”
Lenod struggled to open his eyes, then widened them upon seeing the figures around him.
Three masked figures in tattered cloaks, looking as though they had just fought a battle.
Their blatant shady appearance startled him, and he tried to muster his magic, but no strength stirred in his body.
“W-Where am I? What is this? Who are you?”
“You do not remember?”
“Or maybe he is just pretending?”
At Meisa’s question, Turan sniffed lightly and shook his head, dismissing the idea.
A scent of confusion wafted from the slumped Lenod.
In other words, the god did not fully possess Lenod’s body but came and went as needed, like a possession.
Though, judging by his ignorance of Turan’s group, it seemed to partially erode his consciousness even in normal times.
“It looks like there really is something hiding inside. Hey, you know there is something in you, right? Call it out. Or we will torture you.”
“W-What? I do not understand what you—”
Lenod shook his head in panic, but Turan caught the fleeting emotion on his face.
An expression that seemed to say, “I’ve been found out.”
‘So Lenod knows something is inside him too? Good, this is a chance to see how the host coexists with it.’
Turan removed Lenod’s shoe and held a long needle to the tip of his toe.
Realizing what was coming, Lenod’s face turned pale.
“We have no personal grudge with you, so I will say this one last time before the torture: call out the thing inside you.”
Though he had only briefly interacted with the real Lenod, Turan could tell he was not particularly resolute.
As expected, Lenod, without even needing torture, began shouting in terror.
“Ah, ugh…! Ymir! Ymir! Save me! Please!”
Ymir—could that be the name of the god called the Fury of the Cold?
Yet, contrary to expectations, the god residing in Lenod ignored his desperate pleas, showing no response.
Even though its host’s life now hung in the balance.
‘I had a hunch, but… does the soul not perish even if the host dies?’
Turan had kept his identity fully concealed during and after the fight precisely because of this possibility.
If they killed him and the soul zipped back to its stronghold, it would expose their information without any gain.
At any rate, threatening and torturing Lenod like this seemed unlikely to yield meaningful information.
So Turan crouched before him and, in a low, measured tone, recited a prepared line.
“Ymir, I have come to deliver Otas’s will.”
Otas.
A name of a Freya god mentioned in a diary Turan had once encountered.
Turan believed with high certainty that it was the Night Hunter, ancestor of Zahar.
The diary’s author had desperately needed Zahar’s tracking abilities at the time.
In other words, he was now impersonating an envoy sent by Zahar’s god.
‘Mentioning the name this blatantly should at least make it show itself.’
This would surely make it harder for them to suspect a passing wandering noble like Turan.
No mere small fry could know the Night Hunter’s true name.
As predicted, Lenod’s terrified expression shifted instantly, as if someone else had taken over.
What was surprising was that it was not anger or fear, but something closer to shock.
Ymir, the Freya god inhabiting Lenod’s body, shouted in a shrill voice.
“Otas? That otaku b*st*rd is still alive? How? Where the hell has he been hiding for thousands of years?”