Chapter 46: Lake Training and Spirit Play

Relying on the dim light of lanterns and the moon, they walked along the rough, untamed forest path, finally reaching the lakeside. The air by the water seemed even colder, and puffs of white breath escaped and dissipated into the frigid air.

“Thea, could you please gather some branches for firewood?” Hay said to Thea, who, instead of a large wolfdog, appeared as a smaller, medium-sized dog. To conserve spirit energy, they often expanded or shrank their forms as they pleased.

Thea barked excitedly and dashed off to a spot where the lantern light couldn’t reach.

The first thing Hay always prepared before his training was a bonfire. He found a spot where embers wouldn’t easily spread, stomped the earth flat with his feet, and then asked Sylph to gather nearby fallen leaves.

Perhaps due to the rain a few days prior, all the fallen leaves were damp.

“Kelpie, come down now. Please remove the moisture from these leaves,” Hay said, shivering, to Kelpie.

Kelpie uncoiled from Hay’s neck, descended, and then climbed another tree. Though it seemed to ignore Hay’s words, it diligently carried out his request. Once the moisture was gone, the leaves crumbled easily at the slightest touch.

“Screech! Kyaaak!”

Sylph, who had helped gather the leaves, was now playing on the lake. Broken shards of ice, remnants from previous training, floated across the water, and Sylph playfully hopped from one to another.

“They’re always thinking about playing.”

Soon after, Thea returned with an armful of branches. Hay praised her, patting Thea’s head as the spirit panted and wagged her tail. Clearly pleased, she rubbed her head against Hay’s palm for more affection.

“Thea, you really are the best-behaved.”

As if replying, ‘Of course I am!’, Thea barked once, “Woof!” Hay chuckled, kneading her mochi-like cheeks a few times before letting her go.

‘Now, to start the fire.’

He crouched down, placed his staff on the ground, and examined the branches Thea had gathered. Finding them still damp, he repeated his request to Kelpie and then pulled out a flame stick from his pocket.

Long ago, when he was the sole survivor of an escort mission, he had retrieved it from the belongings of the deceased. It was a high-value magical item, the first thing he’d secured after confirming he was the only one left alive.

Its previous owner had been a foolish merchant, consumed by greed and an excessive desire for ostentation. While everyone else either fled or fought, he had tried to retrieve his assets from a cargo wagon, only to be gruesomely torn apart by a ‘Long-Footed Rabbit’ beast.

The flame stick’s operation was not much different from a modern fire steel. However, while a fire steel gathered sparks to start a fire, the flame stick generated a flame like a match, maintaining it for ten seconds before extinguishing.

Hay drew the dagger from his waist and pressed its blade against the broad, flat surface of the flame stick, which resembled a wide Chinese noodle. When he struck it as one would a match, an unpleasant metallic screech erupted, and flames instantly burst forth across the entire stick, save for its handle.

He brought the flame to the leaves, igniting them, and then continuously added dry leaves and small branches. Using his staff as a fire poker, he also conjured gusts of wind from his palm.

Having started fires countless times, he quickly built a roaring bonfire.

Hay put away the flame stick, stoked the fire until it grew larger, and warmed his hands. Once he felt sufficiently warm, he stood up, loosened his body stiff from the cold, and adjusted his grip on the spiritwood staff.

****

A week after entrusting his staff to the dazzling magic shop, it was returned. The staff was utterly transformed, almost unrecognizable as the spiritwood staff Hay had originally possessed.

What was once stained and grimy from contamination now gleamed pure white, as if freshly painted. Its splintered grain and thorny protrusions had been meticulously smoothed.

At the staff’s head, where the wood had previously twisted and turned, two transparent, bluish spirit stones were embedded. The lower section was reinforced with metal to prevent wear, culminating in a sharp tip.

Its length remained unchanged, but it had been carved, reducing its weight slightly and making it remarkably sleek. Most satisfying of all was its enhanced durability, fortified by anti-contamination and strengthening magic, ensuring its grain would not be damaged no matter what he struck with it.

The most gratifying aspect was the amplified total spirit energy. During the Battle of Mount Senugel, the combined spirit energy, including the staff’s amplification, had totaled 300%. Now, thanks to his expanded mana vessel from that battle’s experience and the upgraded staff with embedded spirit stones, the total reached an astounding 500%.

Though his rank hadn’t changed, meaning the raw power he could unleash remained the same, he could now cast a greater volume of spells and utilize spirit arts for extended durations.

Hay yearned to increase his raw power. To achieve that, he needed to reach intermediate rank.

“Shall we begin?” Hay tightened his grip on the staff, took a deep breath, and awakened the senses of his body.

He listened intently to the voices of the spirits around him, drawing mana in with each inhale, and holding it within his body, preventing its escape with each exhale.

As he felt the mana flow along the pathways within his body, much like blood through veins, his mind gradually settled into a state of ease.

Even as the cold wind bit at his skin and a chill rose from beneath his boots, at this moment, he felt no cold.

Next came communication with the spirits. Lately, he had been especially focusing on connecting with fire spirits, taking advantage of the bonfires he built.

Strangely, it was difficult to grow close to them, so there hadn’t been much progress. Once that was complete, he would then hone the skills he possessed.

However, merely conjuring blades in the air or manifesting shields by himself offered little benefit. Thus, the method Hay devised was to seek assistance from the spirits.

“Alright, who wants to go first?” Hay asked the three spirits after completing his initial training.

Immediately, Sylph and Thea, who had been playing separately, came rushing and flying toward him at frantic speeds.

“Woof! Grrrrr! Woof woof!”

“Screech! Kyaaak!”

The two even started fighting, each angrily demanding to go first. Kelpie, seemingly uninterested, remained perched in the tree.

“Hey, stop fighting. I said stop fighting! Sylph! Don’t peck Thea!”

While Kelpie was dignified, Sylph and Thea were nothing short of unruly children.

‘If they were human, they’d likely be pulling each other’s hair, shoving, and screaming things like, “Get lost, you stupid dog! I’m first!” or “What bird-brained nonsense are you squawking? Don’t make me laugh, I’m first!”‘

Ultimately, the fight only ceased when Hay grabbed both by the scruffs of their necks and separated them.

“I shouldn’t have even asked. We’ll decide with a coin toss, so accept it.”

Sylph and Thea whimpered mournfully. It was as if they were pleading, ‘Can’t I go first?’

Ignoring their pleas, Hay reached into his coin pouch, producing a jingling sound.

“Copper for Thea, silver for Kelpie, gold for Sylph. Alright, I’m drawing one.”

With eyes full of anticipation, the two spirits looked up at Hay, wagging their tails enthusiastically. As Hay withdrew his fisted hand, their gazes intently followed its movement.

“Who will be first, I wonder?”

Hay cupped his hands together to peek, ensuring the spirits couldn’t see. It was too dark to make it out. He moved closer to the bonfire to examine the coin.

“Silver. Looks like Kelpie is first.”

Kelpie hissed from the treetop. Its sound seemed to convey, ‘This is utterly bothersome.’

Conversely, Sylph and Thea were visibly disappointed. Thea drooped her ears and tail, slumping to the ground, while Sylph angrily shrieked, ‘Gyak-gyak-gyak-gyak!’

‘Why not me?! Why isn’t it me!’

Hay glared at Sylph with a flat, disapproving look.

“We decided this by drawing, didn’t we? No complaints. Now, Kelpie. Come down quickly.”

Kelpie, clearly reluctant, slowly and hesitantly climbed down the tree. Hay waited for Kelpie, loosening his wrists and ankles.

Its slow movements clearly betrayed its annoyance. Once on the ground, Kelpie reared its long, serpent-like body upright.

“Who wants to be the referee?”

“Peeeeeep!”

“Awoo! Woof! Woof!”

Again, they were clamoring to do it. Though it was called refereeing, there was nothing for them to actually do.

“Just watch together, amicably.” Hay then moved away.

Finding a slightly wider space, Hay stopped, shed his heavy winter cloak, tossing it carelessly nearby, and then swept back his hair before taking a short, deep breath.

“Three, two—”

One.

Shhhwaaak—!

A massive , as large as a harpoon, cleaved through the air, hurtling towards Hay.

Kwagagagak—!

From the ground, three erupted in quick succession.

Kelpie’s arrow pierced the first spike, then the second, but failed to reach the third.

Hay immediately used to kick off the ground. Instead of soaring into the sky, he closed the distance with Kelpie in an instant, as if folding the very ground beneath him.

The sound of wind being rent echoed behind him. Without a glance back, Hay deployed an and unleashed a towards Kelpie.

Kelpie dispersed its form and vanished. Regrettably, the blade only sliced through empty air.

Just as Hay’s eyes followed where Kelpie had vanished, the lake’s surface rippled.

The moment he realized this, countless rained down upon Hay. Among them were absurdly large chunks of ice.

“Insane.” Hay clicked his tongue, then conjured a around himself.

The , formed from the lake’s water, attempted to pierce his shield but were instantly absorbed, nullifying the attack.

Kelpie flicked its tongue, seething with anger. It seemed to be accusing Hay of cowardice for using its own element, water.

There was no talk of cowardice to be had. What about Kelpie, who was using area-of-effect magic in a one-on-one fight?

Hay looked up at the now thick and enlarged shield. Freshwater fish, perhaps swept in when the water arrows were formed, swam within its thick confines.

Hay transformed the shield into a volley of arrows, returning the attack. Naturally, a water-attribute attack would have no effect on Kelpie.

Kelpie hissed disdainfully as it watched the arrows cascade towards it.

Kelpie absorbed the lake water, then opened its maw wide. Just as the arrows were about to strike Kelpie’s body, a torrent of water, propelled by immense pressure, erupted, sweeping away the arrows and engulfing Hay.

No, it *tried* to engulf him. However, Hay’s form vanished without a trace, and the ferocious water jet instead slammed into the innocent ground.

Ice shards mixed with the water rolled across the dirt floor.

Kelpie did not panic. Given the nature of a spirit and its contractor, Kelpie instantly knew exactly where Hay was.

Hay, having moved behind it in the blink of an eye, attempted to lacerate Kelpie with a .

However, that spot was directly above the lake.

Kelpie glanced back at Hay.

“Huh?”

Hay, having swung his spiritwood staff to unleash the blade, sensed something amiss and tried to retreat to land immediately, but he froze in place.

Chwaaaak—!

A colossal wall of water surged around Hay. He was completely enclosed by water, with the only escape route being the wide-open sky above.

Hay stepped on air and flew upwards. Yet, the water wall rose faster than he ascended. He poured spirit energy into his ascent, accelerating. Just as he was about to break free from the torrent, the ceiling closed in, like a dome stadium retracting its roof.

“Hah?!”

Trapped within the water column, Hay frantically tried to think of an escape. There was a way. But before he could even attempt it,

Chwarurururu—!

A waterfall of water poured down from above. Struck by the immense water pressure, Hay momentarily lost his concentration, and the skill he was using broke. He was pushed down by the pressure and plummeted.