Became a Medieval Fantasy Wizard-c116

TL/Editor: raei

Schedule: 5/week

Illustrations: None

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Once a wizard gains momentum, nothing can stop them.

The performance Ian displayed and Pyra's attitude.

When these two simple facts combined, Ian gained an undeniable voice within the Red Bear Tribe.

"Searching for the Tears of Hrundal..."

"Yes, Ragnar."

Ian relayed Pyra's plan to Ragnar.

Pyra was confident that Ragnar would take the bait, and things seemed to be progressing according to their expectations.

"I'll discuss it with my father. In the meantime, you should work on your plan."

There was a brief break.

Ian quickly aligned his story with his companions.

Having been through a lot as a wizard, Ian had accumulated quite a bit of experience.

He could effortlessly devise what to say and how to align his words when dealing with high-ranking individuals.

"Belenka, try to keep your words to a minimum. Kira, support me as usual."

"Understood."

"Of course, Ian."

And lastly...

The problematic Takarion.

"Takarion."

Ian called Takarion in a low voice.

The surroundings were so quiet that even a low voice was clearly heard.

"I've done everything I can. I've made you a distinguished guest of Hrundal and told them that with you, we will surely find the Tears of Hrundal."

"..."

Takarion took deep, labored breaths.

He didn't look good.

Unlike the fanatical monks who were devoted to their faith, he was just a writer who loved to write.

Enduring everything that had happened so far was already difficult, and matching Ian's 'wizardly actions' was certainly not an easy task.

"What should I do?" Takarion asked in a trembling voice.

Ian explained calmly.

"Say that you received a revelation from the gods. Tell them that Hrundal has granted you access to the holy mountain and that he will guide you to the elixir."

"But... that's a lie."

Ian replied shamelessly.

"Depending on your perspective, yes."

It was a kind of deception that only mysteries and wizards could pull off.

With the shaman and wizard both vouching for Takarion, not even the chieftain could act arbitrarily.

"I... I..."

Takarion said with a trembling voice.

"I can't do it!"

"..."

"..."

Belenka rubbed her face wearily, and Kira looked at Takarion with a sympathetic expression.

Surrounded by monks, he was a respected gospel writer.

Now, thrown into the north with nothing but himself, Takarion was just a scared young man.

"I'll just stay here! You can bring back the Tears of Hrundal or whatever!"

"How is that possible? If things go south, we need to escape. What do you plan to do if you stay here?"

Ian tried to soothe Takarion.

"Come on. Aren't you the [Golden Finger Takarion]? You've written about Saint Marcus's courage so far. Like the Saint Marcus you admire the most, let's sternly rebuke the heretics!"

"..."

Takarion clamped his mouth shut.

Ian was right.

The great Saint Marcus never cowered in fear.

Instead, he sternly rebuked numerous heretics in the name of heaven.

Takarion knew about Saint Marcus's courage.

More intimately than anyone else here, he knew that truth painfully well.

But...

"I... I..."

Tears streamed down Takarion's face.

"I'm not Saint Marcus... I don't have that kind of courage...!"

Ian remained silent.

Belenka glared at Takarion and spat out.

"Is this pathetic human the one whose gospel is read by countless people in the Empire? It's truly disgusting."

"Belenka..."

Kira tightly held Belenka's hand.

She might teach Takarion physically if left unchecked.

"Let's leave this to Ian. If it really doesn't work out, we can leave on our own."

"I don't like it."

Belenka thought Ian would abandon Takarion.

To be honest, it wouldn't be surprising if he did.

Ian had chased after Takarion all the way from the distant Empire to this cold northern land.

But Takarion kept doing things that made him seem like he deserved to be abandoned.

Ian took a deep breath as he looked at Takarion.

As much as he wanted to abandon Takarion and leave, it felt like a waste of all the effort he had put in so far.

It had become a matter of pride now.

No matter what, he would drag Takarion back to the Empire.

"You may lack courage, but can't you muster some? You're a monk who conveys the words of saints to the believers. Have you just been parroting those facts all this time? Do you really not understand Saint Marcus's actions at all?"

Ian's words struck Takarion deeply.

Takarion felt miserable.

He was sorrowful because Ian's criticism was undeniably true, and he couldn't bear how pathetic he felt for not being able to accept that truth.

"What do you know about that! I made up all of Saint Marcus's achievements! The part about repelling demons with light from his fingers! The scene where he rebukes the heretics! All of it! It was all my imagination!"

"..."

"I'm just a madman spouting nonsense... The priests are all right. My gospel isn't worth reading..."

Takarion fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face.

By chance, he was taken in by monks, and by chance, he showed a talent for writing.

He had a vague desire to become someone important, but Takarion lacked the wisdom and courage to truly be a respected figure.

In the Gospel of Saint Marcus, Marcus never succumbed to any threat or trial, destroying evil with his golden presence.

But Takarion was not Saint Marcus.

He was just a cowardly writer with a potbelly.

At that moment, Ian struck Takarion on the head with his staff.

"Wake up!"

"Ouch!"

Takarion rolled on the floor, tears streaming down his face.

This time it was out of pain.

Ian had hit Takarion on the head really hard!

"You keep spouting nonsense! Takarion!"

"Ian?!"

"Just because your book sold well, you've become complacent! Do you know what that's called? It's called the 'Masterpiece Syndrome'!"

"...?"

What syndrome?

Takarion didn't understand what Ian was saying.

"Don't you feel any shame for all the writers who are struggling because their hard work isn't being read?"

"Why should I feel ashamed?!"

Ian struck Takarion's head again.

"Ouch!"

Takarion grabbed his head and rolled on the ground.

Ian shouted.

"Your Gospel of Saint Marcus has power! Takarion! It gives strength to those in despair, the power to rise again! To those in fear, the power to move towards the light! That's what your gospel conveys, Takarion!"

"But... that's a lie...!"

"That doesn't matter! Takarion! The Marcus in the Gospel of Saint Marcus exists in your heart! He exists because you can bring him to life!"

"...!"

Takarion shook like someone struck by lightning.

Ian's powerful words opened a closed door deep within Takarion's soul.

Ian was right.

Takarion had endured a childhood filled with suffering.

Every time he was bullied by his peers, Takarion would pray and pray again.

Wishing for a superhero to appear and save him!

The Marcus in the [Gospel of Saint Marcus] is a character imbued with Takarion's wishes.

Although the gospel is filled with stories Takarion made up...

The hope contained within it was undeniably genuine.

"Haah. Fine. Stay if you want. We'll just say the author of the Gospel of Saint Marcus was martyred. That would be better for the believers anyway."

"No, no...!"

Takarion sprang to his feet.

"Take me with you too! Ian!"

Ian turned his head slightly and said.

"Why? Just lie there covered in warm furs."

Takarion shook his head.

"The Gospel of Marcus may be a story I made up, but Marcus exists within me. If he were watching me now, he would definitely rebuke me!"

Takarion shouted.

"Don't act foolishly! Move forward!"

Ian smirked and tapped Takarion's shoulder with his staff.

“Now you’re starting to look like a monk. Takarion.”

"...Ian."

"Don't lose that faith."

---

---

Ian and his party met the chieftain of the Red Bear Tribe.

Ragnar, Pyra, and even Sigurd were present.

"I already knew this would happen."

Pyra captured the attention of the room with a solemn voice.

He waved his hand with the missing finger in front of the chieftain and Ragnar.

"The great Hrundal whispered to me in mysterious visions. Pyra, you will not be able to complete the elixir of life!"

Before the voice of the fanatical Pyra, neither the chieftain nor Ragnar could speak.

This was truly the shaman of the north.

"The monk of Heaven's Faith brought by the warriors is my guest! Wait until my emissary arrives, Pyra!"

Pyra's sharp, thin voice echoed.

It sounded like the howling of a frost storm, and also like a woman crying out.

"But I foolishly failed to read his will and caused trouble for our guest! But now, I have finally opened my eyes!"

Pyra pointed to the raven perched on Ian's shoulder.

"Look here! At this gallant raven! It is proof that the wizard Ian is Hrundal's emissary!"

"Caw! Caw!"

Ian gently scratched Oberon's neck.

At this natural gesture, the warriors murmured in admiration.

Seeing him command a raven, they thought, he must be a shaman favored by Hrundal!

Then Ian stood up and shouted.

"I have been commanded by the great Hrundal to find his gift. And I have been told that with Takarion here, we can definitely find it."

Ian pulled out an arcana card from his robe and held it up.

"Oh. That is...!"

"It's undoubtedly Hrundal's image!"

Ian put the card away and looked at Takarion.

Now it was the monk's turn.

Finally, Takarion stood up and spoke.

"I, I have heard the words of Saint Marcus."

"Saint Marcus?"

"Ah! You don't know who Saint Marcus is! Saint Marcus was a saint who lived in the ancient Golden Empire, and his epithet was..."

Ahem. The chieftain coughed.

Ragnar interrupted Takarion's words sharply.

"Enough! We don't care!"

Takarion looked downcast.

After all, an otaku is happiest when talking about what they know.

"Anyway... yes. I received a revelation from him to meet the northern gods on behalf of heaven."

"Revelation..."

The chieftain called Pyra closer.

"Is what he says true?"

"Is there any doubt?"

Pyra replied with eyes sparkling brightly.

Eyes without a trace of deceit!

When the shaman, wizard, and monk all spoke in unison about one truth.

The chieftain believed Pyra's story.

"Very well. Go to the holy mountain."

Ian smiled secretly.