Listening to Bernard, Ronan began to grasp the truth.
This world of supernatural powers was extraordinary—unlike any illusions or fantasies he had encountered in his previous life.
In the Flor Empire, within the royal family, there existed a Templar Order, a military force that once trampled over the bones of giants and even challenged the Spirits with their severed heads.
The Grand Duke Myers, who brought the Northern Wind Province under imperial control, commanded a battalion of Nightmare Knights, invincible wherever they marched.
The empire's three other grand dukes each possessed similarly renowned legions—forces that exceeded the limits of ordinary troops.
Even Ronan's father, Count Reed, led the Flame Dragon Knights, whose steeds were said to breathe the fire of flame dragons.
Outside the empire—in the kingdoms, duchies, and counties of southern nobles descended from the northern frontier—many possessed their own supernatural armies.
Elves, dwarves, and other non-human races had such forces as well.
Before the Spirits waged their Interplanar War, these supernatural legions did not exist.
The reason they emerged was one word: Divinity.
Only Spirits possess divinity—but when the interplanar war began, Spirits perished. Their deaths scattered divinity across the planes, giving rise to these supernatural troops.
Even the Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Technique, which Ronan Reed practiced, likely had divine origins. Only those with Reed blood could train in it, making it exclusive to their family.
Thinking of this, Ronan Reed looked at his own golden finger—his mysterious "cheat" or system.
"Spirituality… how is it related to divinity?"
Spirits could generate divinity—and the people in Ronan Reed's territory seemed to grant him spirituality.
Spirits could start a war that plunged entire realms into eternal winter.
Could the spirituality Ronan Reed collected… do something similar?
He raised his head and saw firelight in the distance—a village appeared.
Surrounded by a palisade of frozen logs, the village used the makeshift walls as basic defense and a windbreak.
It was bitterly cold. Each step sank Ronan's knees into the snow. Compared to this, the Frostholm Barony felt practically warm.
Given the climate here, the people clearly had better methods of surviving the cold than his own villagers.
They had followed a trail of footprints, arriving at the village gate where over a dozen strong men in animal-hide clothing stood guard with spears.
However, upon seeing Ronan Reed and his companions, the guards visibly relaxed.
Roland, by contrast, remained alert. He had witnessed far too much hostility on their journey to the Frostholm Barony—including the time Ronan Reed himself was nearly scattered by an ambush.
He gripped his weapon nervously. These men showed no signs of knightly breathing techniques, yet each one felt at least as strong as he was.
Especially the leader—he wore only a layer of animal hide, much of his body exposed to the frigid wind.
Doesn't he feel cold?
"Aren't you cold?" Ronan Reed asked, genuinely curious. There was no trace of supernatural energy on the young man.
The youth, who appeared only four or five years older than Ronan but was sturdy and powerful, replied confidently:
"Not cold."
He patted his chest proudly. Then, curiously, he asked:
"Are you a noble lord? What's a noble doing here in our tribe?"
"Aren't you supposed to be guarding the underground fire veins?"
Ronan Reed didn't answer. Instead, he asked:
"Will you invite us in?"
After looking the trio over, the youth nodded and stepped aside. The others lowered their spears.
Clearly, the young man held high status within the tribe.
"He's the child closest to the Spirit of the Stag,"
explained a middle-aged tribesman when Ronan Reed inquired. The man spoke sparingly, and his attitude suggested deep awe toward Ronan's clean and noble appearance.
"Not long ago, Brandon hunted a great-horned stag alone. Maybe this time, he'll succeed and be blessed by the Spirit of the Stag."
Apparently, the footprints they'd followed had belonged to this Brandon.
Two hours later, as night fell, the village—called Stag Spirit—lit over a hundred torches, turning night to day and driving away howling wolves.
Ronan Reed watched as the villagers surrounded Brandon at the center of the ritual grounds, dancing a ceremonial dance. Brandon knelt in the middle, and before him lay a great-horned stag, bound at all four legs.
The antlers were massive—Ronan Reed felt they could easily pierce through Roland's leather armor.
Bernard's gaze was even keener than Ronan Reed's.
"Those antlers could be crafted into a powerful bow,"
he muttered, further increasing Ronan Reed's interest.
Brandon drew a matte-finished dagger—clearly not forged from metal, but carved from bone near the base of the stag's antler.
Slowly, the blade approached the stag—but the animal's eyes remained eerily calm.
Ronan Reed noticed every villager at the ritual wore a white bone mask carved from stag skulls. The effect was haunting.
"Summon the Spirit of the Stag!"
Several elderly villagers hauled out a three-to-four-meter-tall stag-head statue, placing it before Brandon just as he removed the stag's still-beating heart.
The dancers fell to their knees in reverence.
"Brandon, this is your third attempt. If—"
"There is no if."
Brandon pressed the heart against the statue's brow. Blood trickled down.
Time passed. Firelight flickered beneath the night sky. The silence was suffocating.
"It failed. The Spirit of the Stag perished in the war of the Spirits. We… have lost our faith."
The elders wept. Brandon himself fell silent.
At that moment, Ronan Reed—without even realizing how—had walked from the far outer circle into the very heart of the ritual.
He stared at the massive stag head, then reached out his hand.
The dazed villagers didn't stop him.
But the moment Ronan Reed's palm touched the statue, a piercing cry echoed across the heavens. The sound froze the world.
Countless beasts trembled and collapsed in the snow.
The massive stag head shattered.
Everyone saw it:
a transparent, proud Stag Spirit leapt from the shards, locked eyes with Ronan, and charged directly into his chest.
The spirit merged with him.
In an instant, Ronan Reed felt his bones crackling and immense strength surging into his limbs.
His body even grew slightly taller in that brief moment.
"Did I… just become a full knight?"