"Oye Ikaris. Are you finally crawling out of your tent?" Krold teased him as the boy emerged with a resolute expression.
"Hi Krold." The teenager replied matter-of-factly.
The barbarian's gaze drifted to the bone knife strapped to his loincloth, the spear in his hand, as well as the bow and quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder, and realized that he was serious this time.
"Are you planning to hunt? Unless it's to protect yourself from envious people?" The warrior gasped as he gave him a knowing look.
The other Otherworlders had been inspired by his tent formation, but there were fewer and fewer free tents. The former villagers had also realized the value of this arrangement and greed had begun to simmer in the eyes of some of them.
On the third night, a Crawler had entered the tent of one of the aborigines. Ikaris had not bothered to investigate who the unlucky guy was, but the next morning there was an extra tent available. This incident only made the atmosphere even more tense.
The day when Ikaris would have to fight to keep his tents would soon come. This was not a problem for Toby, who was a squad leader. Oliver and Ellie shared a tent, while Jacob and Bree, who had just made it through the night before, had already claimed a few more to replicate his formation.
Being alone, he was by process of elimination the one in their sights. To establish his authority, he had no choice but to convince the other tribesmen that he was not an easy prey.
"Only hunting I hope." Ikaris finally said with a somber glint in his eye.
"If you want to hunt, don't stray more than a mile from the village." Krold reminded him sympathetically. "The Guardians' deterrence is very limited beyond that point, and the Demonic Beasts are rampant there."
"...Don't worry. I'll be careful." The boy promised before bidding him farewell.
As Ikaris headed towards Grallu and Malia's cottage, the barbarian whispered to him,
"I don't know the reason and I don't care, but you look better than before. You've also bulked up a bit and your muscles seem firmer. If I can tell, so can Grallu and Malia. Don't forget, they decide who has to bleed for the ritual. Being too healthy is not always a good thing. Don't let their kindness fool you. To preserve the village one more day, they will sacrifice you in a heartbeat."
"...I'll remember that."
Ikaris had gained some weight back, but Malia naturally knew the reason. Without the Demonic Boar meat she had offered them, he would have like the other aborigines were forced to forage the forest without respite.
Still, he would take his advice to heart. Perhaps revealing his rapid progress to them was not such a good idea after all.
A moment later he stopped in front of the doorless cottage and knocked on the wall to announce his presence.
"Come in."
The voice was hoarse and twangy. The boy recognized at once to whom it belonged.
"Good morning Grallu, how are you this morning?"
Entering the thatched cottage, Ikaris saw no prisoners lying on the floor this time, but that was to be expected. Jacob and Bree hadn't slept a wink all night since they witnessed the appearance of the Crawlers storming them.
Malia was absent, but Grallu was awake preparing for the impending ritual. The new batch of prisoners would soon arrive.
The old shaman did not look good and she was wincing with every step she took. This surprised the boy because until now Malia had always helped her walk and he had come to believe that she could not move without assistance.
To his relief, she was wearing her dirty tunic, but that was the very thing that alerted him. By herself, the old hag was a seasoned nudist.
"Oh, Ikaris. What brings you here this morning? New questions about magic?" She asked him inquisitively, propping herself up with both hands on her cane.
The boy ignored the sweat on her forehead and her labored breathing and answered casually,
"That's right. I'd like to hear more about..."
He vaguely recounted his experience of using his Heart-Puncturing Spell on the goblin and asked why it seemed that he was making slower progress with this spell than with the Black Veil. He also asked if the energy required for a spell increased with distance. The shaman mulled over his questions for a bit, then clarified,
"First of all, I'll be honest with you. That Heart-Puncturing spell you used to kill that goblin... If it was anyone else, I'd say you were lying. Even if I try to cast such a spell, the chances of success are slim.
"To increase the synchronization with your Divine Spark and get the best possible output, your wish must be clear, your visualization perfect, but above all realistic. To cast this Heart-Puncturing spell you must know what the heart of a goblin looks like, otherwise the stamina expenditure will be multiplied by tens or even hundreds of times and the spell will also have a high chance of failing. The better your knowledge of what you want to accomplish, the better your chances of success. But even if you know the anatomy of a goblin by heart, can you clearly visualize it in its entirety? That's where your talent is monstrous Ikaris."
The old lady's sincere praise did not impress him much. However, while listening to her explanation he became aware of a certain issue. Just to be sure, he followed up by asking,
"If knowledge and understanding of what you want to accomplish is so important, how do you perform a spell that you don't understand? How would you go about conjuring a fireball or a lightning bolt?"
The old shaman burst out laughing hearing his naive question, but soon she turned pale as a sheet and began to sweat again, confirming that her tunic was definitely concealing a wound underneath. Once the pain subsided, she explained,
"Who says we don't have knowledge of lightning or fire. If you go to the Ballabyne tribe or any city in the kingdoms you can buy all sorts of scrolls containing all sorts of knowledge. Wait here for a minute."
She hobbled with her cane all the way to her room behind the curtain, and he heard her rummaging around as well as the rustle of paper. Then she returned with a pile of yellowed parchments in her hands.
"Take a look at it."
Ikaris feared he would not be able to read them, but he was surprised to find that he could manage perfectly. Apparently the Language Kit from the first day also came with the local alphabet and syntax rules.
" Arcane of Destruction, Fire Element.
Lesson No. 1: What is Fire?
Fire is a hot yellow-orange light with chaotic flow that can burn the dead as well as the living. As it gets hotter, the flame becomes brighter and tends to yellow. Fire has its own personality and can assume other colors depending on our desires. Fire embodies destruction, but also passion, love and life. Therefore strong emotions such as anger, love or the desire to protect or take revenge on someone are powerful enhancers of this element.
Fire is also a force of nature and can be considered a Spirit. Visualizing its indomitable and fiery disposition will make your Fire all the more powerful."
" ... "
Finishing his reading, Ikaris' jaw was already slackening on the floor, his eyes popping out in dismay.
'No wonder they are so bad at magic. Their knowledge is all wrong!'
He should have known better from such a backward world, but it was even more horrifying to see the proof in person. If a scientist from a modern world like himself had been asked to write this lesson, his essay would have been quite different.
The young man quickly skimmed through the other scrolls that described what Water, Ice, Lightning, or Darkness were, and he understood that these natives were hopeless. At the same time, he became aware of another truth:
These natives were still able to perform magic despite their poor understanding of the spells they cast. Somehow, if they had the will, their Divine Spark was still able to grant their wishes.
It was like him when he pierced that goblin's heart. He had never seen a goblin's heart in his life and his visualization could only be incorrect or approximate at best, but the spell still worked.
"Thank you for your help, Grallu. I know what I need to do now." Ikaris thanked her as he returned her 'treasured' scrolls.
The shaman then answered the latter part of his initial question, letting him know that distance did not affect the success or energy cost of the spell. It did, however, affect visualization and accuracy.
The human brain was simply not wired to visualize large numbers or vast distances. Even if given the exact coordinates of a target thousands of kilometers away, Ikaris would be unable to clearly picture such a location in his mind.
"Thanks again, Grallu."
With the time for the ritual coming and Malia still not there, Ikaris offered to escort her to the altar and she accepted his help graciously.