Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 56 After prying more information from the locals, Turan learned that the high-ranking individual who had passed away was none other than the head of the Great House Lavitas.
Naturally, the villagers didn't know the specifics of how such a person had died, but given the circumstances, it was presumed to be of old age. Had someone of that stature been assassinated, the atmosphere wouldn't just be somber—the entire wetlands would have been turned upside down by now.
'I suppose even gods die of old age in this world, so what choice does the head of a Great House have?'
Turan recalled the image of the Arabion Family Head he had seen in the past. That being had looked like a natural disaster in human form, capable of scorching the earth with thousands of lightning bolts with a single gesture. The fact that even such individuals could not defy their allotted lifespan felt strangely hollow.
That evening, Turan stayed at the community hall where the villagers gathered and had his first taste of the local wetland cuisine. As expected of a village situated by the water, most of the dishes consisted of fish, either steamed or boiled. To mask the heavy, earthy scent, they used various local spices, giving the food a unique, pungent flavor.
"Come, come, eat your fill!"
"I heard this young fellow is a traveler from far away? Tell us some stories about how the world is turning!"
"We're all just country bumpkins who've never left this area, you see."
"There must be so many wondrous things out there, right?"
Before he knew it, dozens of villagers had swarmed into the hall, all eager to hear the traveler's tales. In exchange for food and lodging, they requested that Turan share his travelogues. Due to the nature of the Siraf Wetlands, it was difficult for carriages or wagons to pass through, so even peddlers rarely moved in and out of the marshes. Thus, stories from an outsider were a rare commodity.
True to their word, the people here were vastly different from those in the nearby Western Wilderness, from their clothing to their architectural styles. It felt similar to the impression he'd had when he first visited the Enril Desert.
While the parents chattered away, a few children who had followed them tried to touch Bije, who was perched on the staff at Turan's waist. When the creature snapped its beak open aggressively in refusal, several children burst into tears in fright.
"You shouldn't do that, Bije. Behave."
At the playful scolding, Bije gave a dismissive click of its beak as if snorting, then lowered its head to tolerate the children's touch to some extent.
After lightly patting Bije's head, Turan began to spin tales for the villagers, weaving in slightly embellished accounts of his experiences. He spoke of the Sky Mountains at the western edge, his journey on a ship in the North Sea, the rocky peaks of the Gray Zone, the infinitely bountiful Dakein Plains, and the forest cities that were now devastated but once stood tall with giant trees…
Having received such requests several times whenever he blended into villages disguised as a commoner, Turan had become quite a decent storyteller.
A middle-aged man listening intently spoke up. "Come to think of it, I heard that if you go straight east from here, there's an ocean. Is that what you're talking about?"
"No, that would be the Southern Sea. The place I went was the North Sea… It looks something like this."
Since these people had lived their entire lives around the village and were easily confused, Turan drew a simple map of the various regions he had personally visited, using the basic information Keorn had once given him as a foundation. Because he hadn't measured anything precisely, the land sizes, latitudes, and longitudes were all a mess, but it was enough to show which regions were located where.
"Ooh, is this…?"
"This is where we live? It's so small."
"You mean you've been all the way over there, young man? It would take years just to walk that far!"
"I wonder what's beyond those mountains?"
Looking at a map that wealthy merchants would have paid a fortune for, the villagers chatted happily about places they would never visit.
*
The next morning, in exchange for enriching the village with his stories, Turan received a set of local clothes and a pair of shoes. The clothes were made of a coarse, durable material that didn't wear out easily and allowed for good ventilation, with the sleeves and pant legs cut halfway.
In contrast, the shoes were twice as thick as ordinary leather boots and reached above the ankle, their exterior coated in a mysterious, pale substance. He was told it was sap from a local tree, applied to keep water from leaking in.
"If it keeps water out, it would be amazing for boats."
"There are actually people who buy it for that. Just be careful of fire! Even a small spark will make it go up in flames."
After changing, Turan left the village and followed the path the locals had pointed out. Wearing their clothes certainly made it much easier to move. Even if a noble's body was sturdy, it was still unpleasant when clothes got wet and clung to the skin or when shoes became soggy and squelched with every step. Of course, the difference lay in whether one would actually suffer from a cold or other diseases afterward.
Perhaps bored of hanging from his waist, Bije left Turan's side to fly around the area a few times before returning with a wild boar. Even for a magical beast, the sight of it carrying a creature that looked a hundred times its own weight was truly marvelous.
"If you keep wandering off like that, you're going to get hunted again."
At Turan's joke, Bije cried out in dissatisfaction and nudged Turan's side with its head.
Regardless, thanks to the bird, he was able to have a lunch of wild boar stew prepared in the local style. After finishing his meal—enjoying the crunchy texture of the fat, which was different from farmed pigs—he walked for another hour until a city appeared.
The city's name was Slop.
Unlike other regions, its boundaries were marked by wooden palisades rather than stone walls, likely because the ground was too soft due to the local geography. Even though this area was dry enough for a city to be built, the ground was still strangely muddy.
"Hmm? Hey! That… doesn't look like a crow. What kind of bird is that? Is it a magical beast?"
"It's a Golden Eagle. Not a magical beast, just a well-trained bird. It won't hurt anyone."
"Hmm…"
As expected, walking around a city with Bije was far too conspicuous. The police officer gave him a suspicious look but let him through only after Turan handed over two copper coins.
"It's okay."
When Bije let out a somewhat dejected cry, Turan patted its back to comfort it.
A short while later, as he was heading toward the bustling commercial district to find a suitable inn, something peculiar caught his eye. A black pillar stood in the middle of a row of shops.
Approaching it, he saw characters engraved into it—clearly written using magic, specifically Earth Manipulation.
[Ishiel Lavitas, Master of Lavitas, Guardian of the Siraf Wetlands, and Mother to all the injured and sick, has passed from this world, called by the Heavenly Gods.]
[Let her sons and daughters show their respects before this pillar.]
He saw several passersby bowing deeply before the memorial. After observing this for a moment, Turan moved his gaze to the final part of the inscription.
[Written in the name of Barken Kraf, Lord of Slop.]
It seemed the family ruling this city was named Kraf. For some reason, the name felt strangely familiar. Not like something he encountered often, but a name he felt he had seen a few times…
Turan fell into deep thought. A name he read in the Library of Orem? A vassal family of Arabion he encountered while staying with the Berk family? Or perhaps—
"Ah."
Turan carefully pulled a notebook out of his high-capacity pouch, making sure not to be seen. Orvil, the Fire-burner he had met in the north, who had gone on a rampage to obtain the Pyromaniac Bloodline…
The name he had given was definitely Orvil Kraf.
'He was from here?'
Come to think of it, Orvil had mentioned being from a family in the south. It was impossible to know why he had gone all the way to the distant north to slaughter commoners, though.
'The gods…'
The commonality of unnervingly clear eyes and the devotion to a strange superstition someone had taught them. While he had previously thought there was just something suspicious going on, Turan was now half-convinced that the being who had implanted those methods into Orvil and Midan was a true member of the Frea Divine Clan. Especially since he had learned that some of them could inhabit the bodies of others on this earth.
Of course, he still didn't know why they were doing it. Perhaps the Lord of this city had some connection to that mysterious Frea Divine Clan?
Turan looked toward the central manor of the city in the distance, then turned his gaze away. Even if he was currently a formidable power among humans, he wasn't yet at a level to recklessly interfere in the affairs of divine beings. If he ever became much stronger—strong enough to rival the heads of the Great Houses—it might be worth investigating.
After clicking his tongue at the new revelation, Turan looked around as another thought struck him. Sulfur, one of the ingredients for the Soul of Fire mentioned in Orvil's notebook. He thought it might be found nearby.
'If someone were to assign experiments, wouldn't they choose someone in a place where the materials are easy to gather?'
As expected, after asking around the market, he soon got an answer.
"You're looking for sulfur?"
"Yes. I heard it's a good antidote."
"I have some, but not much… I have about a handful. Do you want to buy it?"
The merchant asked for a whole gold coin for an amount of sulfur that didn't even fill a palm, but Turan bought it without even haggling. Judging by how the merchant didn't even check the size or weight of the gold coin, it was undoubtedly a rip-off, but he didn't care.
"Do you happen to know how I can get more of this?"
"Hmm? Now look here. That's my trade secret…"
"It's not like you're getting it from some secret place no one else knows about. I'm sure I could find out just by asking a few more people. Since I've already bought some, why not just tell me?"
The merchant pursed his lips, then nodded as he looked at the gold coin in his hand.
"If you go out the east gate and travel for about four days, you'll find several hot springs. You can find it near there. There are many monkeys, and some of them are magical beasts, so be careful. They aren't particularly ferocious, though."
"Hot springs? What are those?"
"Places where hot water from the ground pools up. I don't know much about it, but the people in that area believe soaking in it is good for your health. They say the monkeys like it too."
The mention of monkey magical beasts reminded him of the ones he had subjugated with the nobles of the Baltas family. If even merchants knew of their existence and they hadn't been wiped out, they probably weren't hostile to humans.
*
After finally buying a scale used for measuring the standards of gold and silver coins, Turan immediately headed out through Slop's east gate.
When people were around, he walked at a normal pace, but once he confirmed he was alone, he used Bije's help to fly and cover more distance. He stopped only after confirming there were no humans within a three-kilometer radius.
"Finally, I get to test this."
[What is it? What are you doing?]
Bije, who had been scratching symbols into the ground, realized the damp soil characteristic of the wetlands had gotten stuck between its claws. It grimaced and shook its feet vigorously to get it off.
Turan laughed, cleaned the mud from the bird's claws, and had it fly up into a nearby tree.
"Wait here for a moment. It'll probably be fine, but just in case."
[Going far?]
"No, not far. I'm just going to run an experiment."
Turan broke several types of suitable trees nearby and burned them. Since it was his first attempt, there was some trial and error, but by adjusting the heat, he managed to produce several lumps of charcoal. He hadn't realized that the type of wood was also important for making charcoal.
Next, he took out a lump of saltpeter he had bought in Banipel City in the Enril Desert from his high-capacity pouch.
'The ratio was 75, 15, and 10.'
After checking his notebook to be sure, Turan crushed about half of the sulfur lump and placed it on the scale. Then, he applied Telekinesis magic to the other side to balance it.
"Good, that's 10…"
Once he confirmed how much force was needed to match the weight of the sulfur, Turan took out a bowl and emptied the sulfur powder into it. Next, he applied a force one and a half times that of the sulfur to one side of the scale and poured crushed charcoal powder onto the other side until it balanced, then added that to the bowl. Finally, he measured out the saltpeter powder by applying seven and a half times the force used for the sulfur.
He focused so intensely on the process that cold sweat trickled down his forehead.
"Whew…"
In the bowl where he had poured the three types of powder, the white, black, and yellow grains were tangled together without being properly mixed. No matter how many times he pressed and mixed the powder with his fingers, no change occurred. Just in case, he took a small amount and tried to light it, but it simply burned away.
'I expected as much, but it has no effect like this.'
Turan was certain that the massive explosion Orvil had caused back then was due to this 'Soul of Fire.' The explosion had clearly started from the black powder placed on the left and right sides of the cave, and none of the other formulas had names that suggested such an effect.
It seemed that to create it, the 'magical binding' mentioned at the end was necessary.
'Let's see.'
Turan placed his hand over the powder and imagined it. He visualized these substances, which refused to mix, intertwining at a level smaller than what the eye could see—at the smallest units he had learned about from the Librarian.
In an instant, a flash of light erupted from within the bowl. When he pulled his hand away, the powder had turned into the same pitch-black color he had seen in that cave.
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