What a Strange Being (2)
The reason for the frustration wasn't anything big.
'Ah, I should've shown my sincerity more gently.'
He just wanted to look as cool as possible. So, he might've gone a bit overboard with his imagination.
But to the spirits, that had apparently come across as shock and fear.
Ghislain asked with a bit of regret,
"Would it be possible to try again, just once more? I'm actually a nicer person than I seem."
Iraniel shook her head gently but firmly.
"The spirits are already terribly afraid of you. They say you smell strongly of blood."
Ghislain lifted his arm and sniffed it.
The robe the elves had provided smelled faintly of flowers.
"I don't smell like blood."
".......It's something they sensed from the sincerity you showed. The spirits are still young and unformed, so it's only natural for them to be afraid."
"Tch...…"
Ghislain clicked his tongue. He understood what she meant. He'd lived his whole life on the battlefield, so if he were to show his true self, that aura was bound to come through naturally.
Still, feeling regretful, Ghislain tried to push a little harder.
"Don't spirits have any ambition?"
"They don't."
"I can't understand why they'd say no after seeing something so grand and amazing."
"They said it wasn't amazing at all."
"If spirits fight alongside elves, why won't they fight with me?"
Iraniel smiled warmly and offered a new lesson.
"We didn't become friends to fight. We fight together because we're friends."
"........"
This time, not even Ghislain's usual stubbornness or twisted logic could win.
Becoming friends with spirits was something far too difficult for someone like him.
"Ughhh........"
In the end, Ghislain scratched the back of his head and gave up on befriending the spirits.
He wasn't so pathetic as to cling to someone who didn't want to be his friend.
Still, a little regret lingered.
Just like Ghislain had failed, the other mercenaries also failed to befriend the spirits.
And it was no wonder. None of them truly intended to become sincere friends with the spirits—only to use them.
'If I just learn spirit magic, I'll finally make it big!'
'Just showing this off anywhere would earn me a ton of money. I'd be so popular!'
'Please be my friend! I just want to live a cooler life for once! Turn my life around!'
'I am Osval the man! If I get a spirit, I'll snag an elf and leave this place for good!'
All they could think about was what they'd gain after obtaining a spirit. Even the pious holy knight Lionel was no different.
'I've lost my holy power, but if I learn spirit magic, I can grow strong again. Please, join me! Let's bring glory to the Empire and the Holy See together!'
Even Kyle shouted at the departing spirits.
"Hey! Why! Where are you going! Dark said I was fine too! Let's become noblemen together!"
With things like that, there was no way spirits would become their friends.
The spirits clearly saw through all that greed and fled.
Only a few spirits lingered near Deneb, but whether it was her holy power interfering, or just a lack of affinity, they didn't come any closer.
All the mercenaries were left with sullen expressions.
They were deeply disappointed they couldn't learn spirit magic—a power they could gain without much effort.
They began to pout and grumble.
"Ugh, come on. Spirits are so picky. Acting all high and mighty."
"Do they even get to choose their friends? Can't they just agree to be one?"
"So spirit arts are like holy power—only for the gifted? This is so unfair."
Iraniel had emphasized several times that purity of heart was the most important thing, but no one truly took that message to heart.
Just when it seemed like everyone had failed, the eyes of the watching elves widened.
They all turned to look at one person. The mercenaries stopped grumbling and turned their heads as well.
Soon, gasps escaped from everyone's lips.
"Wooooooow...…"
Countless fragments of light were floating around Yulian. It looked like they were desperate to stay by his side.
The tiny shards of light gathered together as if drawn to one another, eventually forming several large clusters.
Even then, they refused to leave Yulian's side, drifting ever closer.
Yulian smiled gently at the sight.
When he raised his hand, the lights surged toward him. When he turned his head, they followed his gaze.
As if they were breathing together, a silent resonance flowed between Yulian and the spirits.
Even Iraniel, watching, couldn't hide her surprise. Yulian was showing a spirit affinity far superior to that of the elves.
She quietly approached and asked him,
"What were you thinking as you reached out to them?"
Yulian hesitated for a moment, then cautiously answered.
"I just… looked at them."
He had no demands, no wishes.
He was simply observing the spirits out of pure curiosity.
Yet the spirits approached him.
Like playful children, they tried to nuzzle into his touch, tilting their bodies to meet his fingertips.
Iraniel smiled softly and said,
"The spirits truly adore you."
"Why… me?"
"I couldn't say. But I do know that your soul is purer than anyone else's."
Iraniel waved her hand gently. The mass of light slowly drifted toward Yulian.
"Take them. If you truly desire it, these children will become your lifelong friends."
Yulian slowly extended his hand.
The light flowed into his palm as if seeping through, and a gentle glow spread from his body before fading.
"Ah....."
An unconscious gasp escaped him. He realized he had become connected with the spirits.
He naturally understood how to communicate with them, how to call upon them.
It was an instinctive, familiar sensation—like breathing.
When Yulian opened his palm, a small droplet of water rose from it.
Soon it took on a childlike form, joyfully circling around him.
Then, a fluttering breeze took shape, a flickering flame bounced into view, the ground slightly rumbled, and an earth spirit rubbed its head affectionately at Yulian's feet.
Before long, spirits of all kinds danced around him. They looked joyful and warm.
Yulian looked at each spirit and smiled again.
At this moment, he had become closer to nature than anyone else.
The mercenaries stared in a daze.
"Wow… the captain actually learned spirit magic."
"So jealous… how come he got so many spirits? He hogged them all."
"What the… what makes him so different from us?"
Everyone blurted out their awed and confused thoughts.
Iraniel looked at Yulian with a tender gaze.
"Now the spirits have become your friends. Their growth will mirror yours, and they will share in both your sorrow and your joy. So cherish them. They will hold you dearer than anyone else in the world."
"Yes. I will."
Yulian bowed deeply, a radiant smile on his face.
His heart brimmed with emotion at having bonded with the spirits, and deep gratitude toward Iraniel, who had made it possible.
Just as the ceremony was drawing to a warm close, Osval suddenly shouted.
"This rotten world!"
"…..?"
Everyone turned to Osval. He shouted again, indignantly.
"I figured it out! Why the spirits only like the captain! What makes him different from us!"
He pointed his finger at Yulian.
"What's different about him? It's that face!"
"...."
"You really don't get it? The spirits only like him because of his looks! This filthy, appearance-obsessed world! We need a revolution! A redistribution of beauty is in order!"
At that, Kyle and Lionel, who had also failed to make spirit friends, flared up.
"I used to be the second most handsome guy in my neighborhood!"
"I don't mean to brag, but I was in charge of official ceremonies at the Holy See. You can't get that job unless you're neat and presentable."
Osval snorted at their words.
"The captain is just violently handsome! His face alone wounds the hearts of those around him! That's the kind of level it takes to attract spirits!"
"......."
Everyone was dumbfounded, but Osval went one step further and turned to Iraniel, demanding answers.
"Grand Chieftain! You told us not to judge by appearances but by what's inside!"
"Th-That's true..."
"Then why do the spirits only care about appearances! Huh?"
Iraniel let out a quiet sigh, looked back and forth between Yulian and Osval, and spoke softly.
"Spirits do not care about such things. Nor do we elves. Appearance is like mist that fades with time. Beauty is just a fleeting illusion—only the light of a true soul continues to shine, even through a wrinkled face."
"What? My soul's wrinkled, and... what?"
It was far too profound a teaching for Osval. He couldn't understand it at all.
Being the wise and truly mature adult she was, Iraniel adjusted to Osval's level and said kindly,
"To my eyes, there's no real difference in appearance between that child and you. So don't cling to what you can see. What matters is the kind of person you are."
Osval's jaw dropped in shock.
Yulian was clearly, objectively handsome. Meanwhile, Osval had a scruffy, unkempt beard and a rugged, intimidating face.
'And yet... she says there's no real difference?'
No matter how he thought about it, it didn't make sense. But the great elven Grand Chieftain wouldn't lie about something so silly.
So he cautiously asked,
"Grand Chieftain... you may look young, but you've lived a very long time, right?"
"That's true."
"Then, uh, could it be... you've got aging eyes? Isn't your eyesight worse than before?"
"........"
At that point, the rest of the Yulian Mercenary Corps couldn't take his rudeness anymore and rushed in to cover Osval's mouth.
"Mmmpf! Why are you stopping me! You know I'm right!"
"Please, just shut it, Osval!"
"Mmmpf mmmpf! This filthy world! Revolution!"
"SHUT UP!"
Osval was dragged off, thoroughly subdued.
As Osval was getting smacked around in the back, Ghislain looked at Yulian and let out a breathless chuckle.
He had remembered something he'd forgotten. The image of the hero he saw in his dream.
Didn't Erenes say it, too? That a hero was someone beloved by the world.
If the saintess was someone loved by the goddesses, then the hero was someone loved by all things in the world.
Yulian clearly had something special.
His outstanding looks were only a favorable trait among humans.
What truly mattered was—
Just like in the dream, the will of the world was walking alongside Yulian.
'Then... the spirits he gained now must be the ones I saw in the dream.'
He had briefly seen Yulian fighting alongside spirits in his dream.
But they hadn't been cute like this. Back then, they were practically the world itself, lending their strength to Yulian.
It was an unexpected outcome. Ghislain had made the request because he wanted to learn spirit magic himself, but in the end, it was Yulian who obtained that power.
'No, this was probably always meant to be Yulian's.'
He didn't know how the hero had obtained spirits in the original past, but it must have been through the elves—just like how Deneb received her necklace.
While Ghislain was deep in thought, the ceremony came to a complete close.
Though everyone regretted not gaining anything themselves, they still sincerely congratulated Yulian.
Ghislain also let go of his attachment. Instead, he decided to ask Iraniel something that had been on his mind for a while.
"Could you take a look at this guy for me?"
Ghislain summoned Dark. Dark had hidden himself before the battle even ended.
– Elves are uncomfortable. Just… everything feels uncomfortable.
Grumbling like that, he had holed up inside Ghislain's consciousness and refused to come out.
Usually, he'd jump at any chance to show off in front of people, that annoying little thing.
But if Ghislain forced him out, he couldn't resist. Reluctantly appearing, Dark wore a sullen expression.
Seeing the spirit—round and plump like a sparrow—Iraniel looked intrigued.
"This is... a strange being indeed."
"I am the Spirit King!"
Dark declared with dignity, glaring at Iraniel. He was clearly trying to pick a fight.
"......"
A brief silence passed.
Iraniel looked utterly dumbfounded.
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