Chapter 41 - New Lands
--Current Time, Kyro--
Two solid hours of trekking through the strange terrain of Zintar had left my legs feeling like lead.
After the sheer, heart-stopping terror of being strapped to Grann's back like a human rucksack while he free-soloed a mountain cliff, walking on flat ground felt like a luxury I didn't take for granted. We had descended the jagged peaks and made camp in a clearing just at the base of the range. Grann assured us that once we crossed this woodland, the territory of the tribe would be waiting just beyond the ridge.
During that walk, I also gave Lyra occasional scrap paper with math problems for her to solve. These ranged from addition to subtraction, and then to multiplication. We still haven't delved into division yet.
It still felt surreal. To my perspective, I had taken a quick, heavy nap after collapsing from mana exhaustion on Brohm's ship. But in reality, two full days had passed while I was out cold. The high-stakes sea battle against a giant leviathan, the roaring wind of the upper atmosphere, and the death-defying mountain climb were all blurred together into a fever dream.
Now, finally, the world was quiet.
Around us stretched the Elder Lands. A surreal, hauntingly beautiful wilderness where the rules of nature seemed slightly inverted. The grass beneath my boots was a deep, velvety shade of violet, soft and springy underfoot. The forest trees possessed massive, twisting trunks made of pale, stone-gray wood that looked like petrified ash, while their overhead canopies flared with thick leaves in vibrant shades of magenta and plum. The air smelled crisp, dry, and faintly of crushed berries and wild ozone.
"Step into your guard, kid! You're leaning on your back heel!" Scrotus called out.
Nearby, a lively spar was under way. Scrotus was holding a thick wooden practice stave, casually parrying a flurry of aggressive strikes from Lyra.
"Eat this!" Lyra barked, her forehead slick with sweat as her iron practice sword hissed through the purple air.
A few yards away, Grann was whistling a cheery, off-key tune while tending to a crackling campfire. Suspended over the flames on a makeshift wooden spit was a giant, six-legged reptilian beast—some sort of ambush lizard that had tried to pounce on us from a grey tree branch thirty minutes ago. Grann had flattened it with a single backhand, gutted it in seconds, and was now happily basting the meat with wild mountain herbs. The rich, savory scent of sizzling fat filled the clearing.
I leaned back against a smooth, stone-gray log—one that Scrotus had casually chopped down earlier to make us seating—and let out a long, contented breath.
I noticed that Scrotus prayed before cutting the tree. If this is related to a religion, I won't press for answers.
I reached into my bag and pulled out the volume I had bought back at the seaport market: A Comprehensive Guide to Alchemical Conversions.
I ran a thumb over the purple cover. Back on Captain Brohm's ship, I had started diving into these pages. I remembered sitting against the main mast, listening to the ocean breeze while Lyra swung from the rigging like a wild monkey.
And then, before I could even process the practical application of alchemy, everything had gone to hell. Lyra demanded literacy lessons, a halved Manta Shark floated past the hull, a Kraken attacked, Grann blew a hole in the sea, and I dropped a massive fireball on a Kraken's face.
Now, sitting on a grey log in the middle of a quiet forest, the thrill of constant danger was finally gone. Or at least that's how I felt, probably because Grann, Lyra, and Scrotus were constantly on guard in these lands. I barely had to worry about getting eaten alive. I could rely on them for protection, which was good, and it also meant more time for me with the book.
Ehem...
To summarize on what I've learned, everything in this world possessed a faint, internal pocket of elemental energy called the Elemental Lattice or Latent Mana.
Three Process of Alchemical Reaction:
Deconstruction (Solutio): The alchemist floods an object with mana, disrupting its internal bonds to reduce the material into a malleable, fluid state, or in other words, a Solutio.
Realignment (Reformatio): While fluid, the material's particles are rearranged into a new structure using geometric circles glyphs or mental intent.
Stabilization (Coagulatio): The alchemist withdraws their mana, causing the material to lock permanently into its new physical form.
The book warned that if the alchemist disconnects their mana too fast or early, the object's latent energy will short-circuit, causing a "Structural Collapse" that turns the material into useless, gray ash.
In traditional chemistry on Earth, breaking molecular bonds required massive physical inputs—extreme atmospheric pressure, violent chemical catalysts, or intense thermal energy. But here, mana was the catalyst. By flooding a material with my own energy, I could bypass the high activation energy required for chemical reactions.
And unlike the alchemists of this world, who had to guess particle structures using trial-and-error geometric magic circles, I already knew the exact molecular blueprints of physical matter. I knew how carbon atoms locked together to form graphite versus diamond. I knew how iron oxidizes, how silicates bind, and how crystalline structures form.
"Ah... I really am blessed," I chuckled under my breath, feeling a sudden wave of gratitude for my agonizing years as a university student in my past life.
And the laws listed here are:
Mass Balance: Output weight cannot exceed the input weight.
Affinity Restriction: Changing a material's element requires massive external energy.
Continuous Mass: Connected structures cannot be partially transmuted if they lack the mana required to do so; trying to alter one piece requires overriding the entire object.
So far, that covered everything I had read.
Curious, I turned the parchment to the next page.
"To perform a basic transmutation," the text read, "you must draw a magic glyph upon a flat surface. Place the target ingredients at the center of the drawn platform, and pour your mana..."
I immediately glanced at the detailed diagram in the margin.
"A simple test transmutation can be performed by drawing this glyph and selecting a singular object with a mass of 1 to 10 grams, such as a small pebble. Transmute the object to produce 10 grams of fluid Solutio."
I hummed thoughtfully, deciding to give it a try. I slid down off my log, kneeling on the cool brown soil.
Reaching out, I plucked a thick blade of purple grass beside me and used a small stick to carefully trace out the magic glyph just like the book instructed directly onto the brown dirt floor.
Next, I needed an ingredient of roughly ten grams. With no modern lab scales around, I had to rely on pure intuition. Back on Earth, a standard one-yen coin weighed exactly one gram, meaning ten grams felt roughly like holding ten small coins. I dug into my pocket and pulled out two copper coins; silver felt far too dense, but copper was light enough for an easy estimation.
I placed the two copper coins right in the center of the drawn glyph.
"Extend your hand and begin channeling mana into the construct. The magic glyph will activate and initiate the transmutation..." I read out loud.
Nodding to myself, I held my right palm flat over the circle.
I focused my mind, tapping into the warm pool of energy in my core and sending a steady stream of mana down into the dirt. Instantly, the drawn lines of the glyph ignited with a soft, pale blue glow.
A minute passed. I stared intently at the coins. Nothing happened.
Five minutes passed. The lines continued to pulse faintly, but the copper remained completely solid, although, I could feel there's indeed heat building up in the coins.
"Lunch's ready, kids!" Grann's booming voice rang out across the campsite.
Grann had finished cooking the lizard, a process that usually took around sixteen or seventeen minutes... and yet, my coins hadn't changed at all!
"What is going on...?" I muttered, squinting at the page, then back at the stubborn copper coins beneath my hovering hand. I was pouring mana into the circle, so why wasn't the material shifting into a slurry? "Did I draw the glyph wrong?"
SMACK!
Out of nowhere, a heavy palm slammed directly into the middle of my back.
"HEY!"
"AH!" I gasped, my torso lurching forward.
The sudden, violent push instantly severed my mental focus. The steady flow of mana channeling into the ground shattered.
Right before my eyes, the two copper coins let out a faint, harsh hiss. The metallic sheen vanished, dissolving into a small, disappointing pile of crumbly gray ash as the glowing magic circle dimmed and died.
My eyes nearly bulged right out of my head. "NO!"
"Nitwit, get your food, lunch is ready!" Lyra repeated Grann's announcement, completely unbothered as she stood over me.
I whipped my head around, my face hot with irritation. "LYRA!" I yelled, pointing a finger at the pile of burnt ash. "YOU RUINED MY EXPERIMENT!"
Without a single shred of remorse, Lyra forcefully shoved a heavy wooden plate laden with steaming, fragrant lizard meat directly into my chest. "I don't care. Eat it up. We're leaving immediately after."
"Huh?" I caught the plate, blinking in confusion as I looked up at her. "Why? We literally just sat down."
"Well, the tribe's a lot closer than you might think, cabbage," Grann chuckled warmly, stepping over with his own massive plate of food. "And the earlier we get moving, the sooner we arrive."
Scrotus casually tossed his practice stave aside, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm as he walked over to his log. "Saves us from eating cold meat on the trail later. Win-win."
Lyra and Scrotus took their seats, immediately digging into their food.
I looked down at the ruined pile of gray ash in the dirt, let out a long, long-suffering sigh, and climbed back onto my stone-gray log.
"Fair enough," I muttered, picking up a wooden fork. "Let's eat."
***
--Thorskil, Ytval--
It had been a full two weeks since Lyra and Kyro had left the village with Grann.
Even though the house felt painfully quiet without the kids' constant antics, I took comfort in knowing they were in the safest hands imaginable. Grann might act like a cheerful, eccentric old man, but there was only a few on this continent capable of breaking through his guard.
The midday sun beat down warmly over the sprawling farmland of Ytval, bathing the fields in a bright, golden haze. I sat lazily in the saddle atop Kelsey, our trusty mount, listening to the rhythmic thump-thump of her hooves along the dirt path. Beyond the low wooden fences, the soil was now dotted with tender green seedlings, the fresh growth of a new crop, planted right on the heels of last week's massive wheat harvest.
Slung over my shoulder was a canvas bag filled with fresh river fish I had caught earlier. Meanwhile, Kelsey's right saddlebag bulged with the heavy leather coin pouches I'd brought back from selling our produce in the city.
In the left saddlebag, wrapped carefully in silk, sat a special present for Reyna. Today was her birthday, and I wasn't about to return home empty-handed.
My mind briefly drifted to the treeline at the edge of the valley.
For the past week, strange bandits had been lurking around the perimeter of the village. They never raided, never drew weapons, and never made a move toward the crops. They just... watched.
It was deeply unsettling. A few days ago, I had personally confronted one of the scouts. Before I could even open my mouth to interrogate him, the man pulled a dagger and drove it straight into his own chest without a second thought.
When I managed to corner a second scout and disarmed him before he could draw steel, the man simply collapsed. Using my senses, I felt his heartbeat stutter, spike violently, and completely stop within seconds. Probably a self-terminating curse, or sheer fanaticism.
I had quietly eliminated every remaining scout in the surrounding woods to protect the village, but like clockwork, fresh ones would show up two days later, observing from a distance. It smelled heavily of the Blade God's lingering influence.
Still, I kept the details to myself. There was no sense in sparking panic among the villagers. The local guards were already on high alert, and if those bandits ever decided to step out of the shadows, I'd grind them to dust myself.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I pulled Kelsey to a stop in front of our front iron gate. I dismounted, pushing the creaking wooden gate open.
Over by the drying lines, Reyna was hanging up fresh laundry. The afternoon breeze rustled through the white sheets around her, catching her dark hair.
At the sound of the gate, her head snapped up instantly. A brilliant, radiant smile broke across her face.
"Thors!" she chirped, wiping her hands on her apron. "How was the trip?"
My eyes instinctively drifted down to her gently rounding stomach, a quiet swell of affection warming my chest. I straightened my posture, smoothed down my vest, and flashed her my signature, ultra-dashing, suave grin, complete with a slow wink.
"Hey there, beautiful," I hummed, holding up the canvas bag with a roguish smirk. "I brought dinner. Hehe~"
"Eeeee~!"
Reyna let out a high-pitched, gushing squeal like a starstruck schoolgirl. Overcome with bashful embarrassment, she gave me a playful, affectionate swat on the shoulder.
To her, it was just a gentle love-tap. But, to me, it carried the force of a siege catapult.
CRACK-BAM!
The impact exploded across my upper torso. My feet violently parted ways with the ground, while keeping my suave expression like nothing happened as I was launched sideways at an impossible speed. I plowed headfirst into the dirt, skipping twice before smashing straight into the wooden fence post right next to Kelsey.
A dense cloud of dust settled over my groaning form. Swirling cartoon stars danced merrily around my head.
Kelsey casually turned her head, peered down at my crumpled body, and gave my cheek a long, wet, thoroughly unhelpful lick.
"THORS?!"
Reyna gasped in horror, dropping her basket of laundry as she sprinted across the yard. "Oh gods, Thors! I'm so sorry!"
Before my brain could finish rebooting from the momentary coma, two remarkably soft, insanely powerful arms swooped beneath my back and knees. In one effortless, fluid movement, my pregnant, glowing wife hoisted my full six-foot-plus frame into the air, holding me in a delicate, bridal carry.
"Hahaha..." I wheezed softly, my vision slowly coming back into focus as I looked up at her frantic, teary eyes. "Don't worry... I'm okay..."
I leaned up slightly and planted a sweet, lingering kiss right on her flushed cheek.
"Eeeek~!" Reyna squeaked, her face instantly flushing a brilliant crimson as she squirmed on the spot, kicking her legs like a giddy teenager while effortlessly carrying her husband in her arms.
***
A short while later, the comforting aroma of home-cooked food filled our cozy kitchen.
I set to work preparing my wife's absolute favorite birthday feast: a freshly baked Cinnamon Cake paired with Poached Fish in Vinegar. Reyna had a legendary love for fish—she'd turn down a roasted stag any day of the week if a river trout was on the table. Over the years, making each other's absolute favorite meal on our birthdays had become our own quiet, sacred tradition.
"Rey, love, sit down and rest," I fussed, bustling over as she started arranging the wooden plates and cutlery on the table. "You shouldn't be running around overworking yourself. You're pregnant, remember?"
Reyna turned to me with a soft, amused smile, shaking her head. "I'm carrying a baby, Thors, I'm not made of glass. I can set a table."
"I know, I know," I chuckled softly, unable to help myself.
With the sheer, unnatural balance of a veteran warrior, I managed to carry both hot serving platters perched precariously on my left forearm while wrapping my right arm around her waist. I leaned down, gently kissing her cheek before sliding my arm back to carefully lay the feast across the table.
"Ooo, my favorite!" Reyna's eyes sparkled as she sank into her chair, taking in the rich, savory tang of the vinegar fish and the sweet, comforting scent of cinnamon.
"Only the best for the birthday girl," I murmured, lightly booping her nose with my finger before sliding into the chair right beside her.
"Haha~" She giggled softly, reaching out to break off a small piece of the warm cinnamon cake. Her expression softened, a nostalgic warmth settling over her face. "This really takes me back, you know? I still remember the very first time you tried to bake this for me."
A wave of phantom embarrassment washed over me, making my ears burn. "Hey now, you don't have to bring that incident back up..."
"Oh, come on!" Reyna laughed, clapping her hands together. "You turned the entire kitchen into a flour-saster." She punned. "You had soot on your nose, burnt the bottom so bad it looked like charcoal, and you were almost in tears because you thought you ruined my birthday!"
I snickered, rubbing the back of my neck. "I was trying my best..."
"And that's why I loved it!" She leaned in close, poking my flushed cheek with a playful grin. "I really love your embarrassed face, Thors. It's soooo adorable."
"Oh yeah?" I smirked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Well, yours is ten times more adorable!"
"No way," she gasped, placing a hand over her heart with dramatic indignation. "Yours is twenty times more adorable!"
"Nope. Yours is thirty percent—wait, thirty times more adorable!"
"No, no, nono!" Reyna wagged a finger in my face, her eyes shining with competitive mischief. "Yours is a hundred times more adorable!"
"Yours is a thousand!"
"A hundred thousand!"
"A million!"
"Tens of millions!"
"A billion!" I declared loudly, puffing out my chest.
"A trillion!" she countered instantly without missing a single beat.
"No, you—" I froze, opening my mouth to raise the stakes before my brain completely short-circuited. I blinked, staring at her grinning face. "...Wait, what comes after a trillion?"
Reyna burst into a chorus of triumphant, musical laughter, pointing a finger at me in victory. "Hah! I win!" she cheered, leaning back in her chair with a smug, giddy smile. "I officially declare that you are a trillion times more adorable than me, and the ruling is final!"
"Fine, fine," I laughed, throwing my hands up in mock defeat as I leaned over to kiss her forehead. "You win, my goddess. Happy birthday."
We shared a warm, peaceful laugh as we settled back into our meal.
Then, three sharp, deliberate knocks echoed against the heavy wooden front door.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
The sound cut through the warm room, Reyna and I both paused, our eyes locking instantly.
As Reyna made a move to push herself up from her chair, I reached over, resting a gentle, firm hand on her shoulder. I gave her a calm, reassuring nod, silently telling her to stay seated and keep resting.
I stood up from the table and made my way down the short entryway hall toward the door.
As I approached, I deliberately expanded my senses, just enough to read the draft coming beneath the door frame. My nose caught it first; a crisp, blinding scent of pure ozone, dried lavender, and immaculate, holy steel.
My heart took a subtle thud against my ribs. I knew that distinct, overwhelming presence before my fingers even touched the iron latch.
I pulled the door open.
Standing on our porch under the bright afternoon sun was a woman wrapped in an immaculate, snow-white travel cloak. Silky, straight golden-blonde hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, framing a face with skin so pale and smooth it almost resembled carved marble. Her piercing blue eyes locked onto mine.
Resting at her hip, peeking beneath the folds of her cloak, was a sheath I recognized all too well. Radiating a quiet, terrifying aura of absolute purity was the legendary divine weapon: the Excalibur of Wisdom.
It was Saira.
The Sword God of Light.
I forced every trace of tension out of my shoulders, immediately plastering a surprised, welcoming smile across my face to act as oblivious as humanly possible.
"Saira?!" I gasped, blinking in genuine shock. "W-what in the world are you doing all the way out here?"
Saira's expression remained serene, her presence holding a grace that felt almost ethereal against the rustic backdrop of our humble farm. Her voice, when she spoke, carried a clear, heavenly resonance that sounded like wind chimes echoing in a quiet cathedral.
"Good afternoon, Thorskil," she greeted softly, inclining her head in a courteous nod. "May I come in?"
[End]