Karin stood frozen, her expression stricken by shock—a look one might have after witnessing something utterly incomprehensible. “Your body... That is...,” she murmured in a low voice, struggling to find words as she let out a faint groan. “A form... shaped by Karma?” Ketal’s eyes sparkled with genuine admiration. “You noticed immediately.” It had taken Arkemis a considerable amount of time to understand Ketal’s true nature, but Karin had deduced it in a single moment of contact. He found himself wondering, Is this what it means to be on the level of a Hero? Ironically, Karin herself seemed even more taken aback by Ketal’s reaction. “Are you serious? You’re saying your very flesh was transformed by the force of Karma?” “That’s what I suspect,” Ketal replied, his tone measured. “Though I’m not entirely certain just yet.” Karin seemed to accept this, her expression settling as she carefully connected the dots. “I see. So you came to see me for confirmation.” Ketal’s body was special. It could withstand Myst and divine powers that would overwhelm an ordinary person. However, Karin wondered if thi sthis unique constitution was truly the result of his many achievements, as Arkemis had suggested. Karin fell silent, pondering the question with furrowed brows. After a brief pause, she spoke up again, her voice cautious. “I know it’s possible, at least in theory.” It was said that those who achieved great deeds—like a legendary emperor or the holiest of saints—would be suffused with a force unique to them, something that set them apart from ordinary men. However, Karin didn’t know if that energy could go so far as to transform the flesh itself. She pondered for a moment and realized the answer was yes. “There is a story from the past,” Karin began quietly. “About the ancient emperor who once ruled over the entire continent. He dreamed of conquering the White Snowfield, but that ambition ended in ruin, and he returned home a broken man. Still, he did once rule the world.” “I see,” Ketal replied. “It’s not well known. And there’s been no precedent since then,” Karin explained. “But even though he was just a regular human—one who couldn’t wield Myst—his flesh could not be pierced by blades, nor could poison affect him. Even after his death, his body never decayed. It remained as lifelike as ever, untouched by time.” “Huh. That’s news to me.” Karin offered a small, almost apologetic smile. “It’s not a widely shared tale. And it’s never happened since.” The emperor’s case proved that such a thing was possible—at least in theory. Yet, despite the precedent, Karin could not quite accept it. No one since that fabled Emperor had ever exhibited such traits, not even other Heroes. A single, natural question rose in her mind. “Just who are you?” Karin asked him, her tone serious. “I’m a barbarian,” Ketal answered simply. “My name is Ketal.” “That’s not what I’m asking. I mean, I’ve never heard of you. I don’t know who you are.” For someone’s very body to be transformed by the force of their own Karma, it would take overwhelming achievements. Not even the emperor, who ruled the entire continent, had managed to reach Ketal’s current state. That meant Ketal had accomplished something even greater than conquering the world itself. Yet, despite her centuries spent as the High Elf Queen—one who had witnessed countless legends come and go—Karin had never heard of him. “Who are you, really?” she repeated, her gaze sharp. Ketal gave a faint hum, glancing at Arkemis as if to confirm something. Arkemis responded with a tiny, nearly imperceptible nod. “You mentioned earlier,” Ketal said, “that the emperor from long ago, the one who tried to conquer the White Snowfield, had a power similar to mine. But he ultimately failed, didn’t he?” Karin nodded. “Yes, he did.” She wondered why Ketal was repeating things she had already said. Then, in an instant, her eyes widened, brimming with astonishment as realization dawned. “The ashen-haired barbarians...,” she whispered. Ketal continued calmly. “I came from the place you call the White Snowfield.” Karin’s breath caught in her throat. She stared at Ketal with trembling eyes, struggling to process what she’d just heard. For a long moment, shock clouded her face. Then, just as quickly, her eyes grew calm. “I see... That explains it.” Ketal cocked his head, a little disappointed by her reaction. “You’re not more surprised? Didn’t expect you to take it so calmly.” “It’s the only explanation that makes sense,” she said softly. The force surrounding Ketal was even greater than what the emperor had possessed. And the emperor had failed to conquer the White Snowfield. If Ketal truly hailed from that land of legend, then the stories made sense at last. Seeing Karin’s muted reaction, Arkemis looked almost crestfallen. “Aww, I thought you’d be more shocked than that.” “I assure you, I’m plenty surprised,” Karin replied, her tone dry. “This is the most stunned I’ve been in five centuries. Not since I met the Master of the Mage Tower has anything left me so speechless.” “Five hundred years, huh?” Ketal chuckled softly. He found it strangely charming to hear someone who looked no older than twenty speak so matter-of-factly about events from half a millennium ago. Moments made the world truly feel like a fantasy. “I am curious,” Karin continued, “as to why you, the ashen-haired barbarian, are outside the White Snowfield, and how you came to know Arkemis. But more importantly, I should explain the uniqueness of your body. Most likely, it is as you said: a result of the incredible deeds you have accomplished.” “Oh?” Ketal’s interest was piqued. “It’s probable that neither Myst nor even divine powers of middling strength could leave so much as a scratch on you.” Ketal let out a low whistle, almost in relief. “So that’s what it was all along.” It was only natural. The force he had gathered through the accumulation of his deeds had transformed and now protected his body. In itself, that was a kind of Myst—one that precious few things in this world could ever hope to break. “Wait a minute,” Arkemis interrupted, wearing a troubled expression. “Are you saying there’s no one in the world who could harm Ketal now?” “No, that’s not what I mean,” Karin replied. “It’s true that his body is protected by his Karma, but it’s not an absolute defense. It’s not as if he commands Myst directly, so it isn’t perfect.” Just as there were slaves who resisted even the awe-inspiring presence of the great emperor, or criminals who managed to sully the purest saints, nothing was truly absolute in this world. “Of course, his physical protection is so immense that most attacks wouldn’t even register. But it’s possible—if someone possesses a force equal to or greater than his, they might be able to hurt him.” Even as Karin said this, her words lacked conviction. It was clear she couldn’t truly imagine such a person. “I see...,” Arkemis murmured. Ketal smiled, satisfied at finally understanding the true nature of his body’s uniqueness. Karin, still eyeing Ketal carefully, asked him in a tentative voice, “Ketal. Are you even human?” “I am,” Ketal replied without hesitation. “Really? After achieving so much, I find it hard to believe you’re still just human.” If someone’s Karma was powerful enough to physically transform them, they could no longer be considered truly mortal. Ketal might have transcended life itself, becoming something closer to a living concept than an ordinary man. Ketal replied lazily, “I am human.” He had come to this world as a human, and he had stepped into the realm of fantasy as one. He hadn’t become anything else, nor did he intend to. Upon hearing those words, Karin realized something. Ketal was denying even the slightest possibility that he was anything but human. There was a stubbornness—a kind of obsession—in his refusal. “If that’s what you believe...,” Karin murmured, deciding not to push further. She instinctively took a step back. “Oh, by the way,” Ketal asked her, “could my inability to use Myst be a result of my unique body as well?” Karin had said that even the ancient emperor could not use Myst. Perhaps that was why Ketal had never been able to master them. However, Karin shook her head. “No, that’s not it. The emperor never sought out Myst because he believed the greatest rulers didn’t need such powers. If he’d wanted to, he could have learned to wield them with ease—probably more easily than anyone else.” Simply possessing such force was its own kind of Myst, and Ketal certainly met that qualification. “Is that so?” Ketal’s shoulders slumped with disappointment. Is it really something else, then? he thought, suddenly wondering if, just as Arkemis had said, he was simply too withered to use Myst. After all, he hadn’t practiced them for so long—maybe he’d just lost the knack. Those ancestors of mine should’ve bothered to master Myst, at least. Useless bunch, he muttered inwardly. “So you really can’t use Myst, huh?” Karin shook her head in amazement. Everything she thought she knew about the world was slowly being overturned before Ketal’s very eyes. She studied him, eyes glinting with newfound curiosity. There, standing before her in the sacred ground, was the legendary ashen-haired barbarian. As a High Elf, Karin was no ordinary being herself, but compared to Ketal, her own uniqueness seemed to pale. “I must say, I’m surprised... But since you’re here at Arkemis’s invitation, I see no reason to turn you away. As long as you don’t cause trouble, you’re welcome. If you need anything, just ask.” “Don’t worry—I’m not planning on stirring up any trouble,” Ketal replied with an easy smile. “Though, if it’s okay, I’d like to learn a thing or two while I’m here.” “When we first met, you asked me to suppress my presence. Is that actually possible?” Ketal’s natural aura radiated such overwhelming pressure that even other elves, who were attuned to the forces of nature, found it difficult to approach him. To be honest, it was starting to become a hassle; he couldn’t even enjoy himself properly with it getting in the way. Karin’s expression soured a little. “So you don’t know how to restrain your own force?” The look she gave him was the kind one might give to a master swordsman who’d never learned how to properly grip a blade. “In that case, I can teach you how to contain your force. And if you wish, I can even instruct you in Myst as well. It’s late today, so come see me tomorrow, and I’ll teach you what you want to know.” Ketal’s eyes lit up. “Thank you—I really appreciate it.” He was all smiles as he prepared to leave. As he started to go, Karin called out to Arkemis. “Arkemis. Stay here.” “Huh? Uh, okay...,” Arkemis stammered, looking uneasy. Karin’s eyes narrowed as she fixed Arkemis with a penetrating stare. Ketal, seeing this, smiled to himself. “Looks like you two have a lot to talk about,” Ketal said. “I’ll get out of your way.” “Y-yeah... All right,” Arkemis answered, still fidgeting. Near the top of the World Tree, in a broad clearing, Arkemis was practically flattened against the ground, as though a heavy weight had pinned her down. “Y-Your Majesty... This is too much...,” she whimpered. Karin sat gracefully in her chair, sipping her tea with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew he was one of the ashen-haired barbarians and didn’t bother to tell me before bringing him here. Why is that?” Arkemis squeaked, “I just wanted to see you surprised... That’s all...” The invisible force pressing Arkemis down seemed to grow even heavier. After a moment, Karin sighed and flicked her hand; the oppressive wind vanished, letting Arkemis finally sit up. “Oh, that was rough...,” Arkemis muttered. “If he’d come with ill intentions, what would you have done then?” Karin demanded. “Have you forgotten how important this place is?” “Don’t worry! He’s not like that, I promise. Anyway, what did you think? Amazing, right?” Arkemis beamed, eager to hear Karin admit Ketal’s greatness. Karin didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, but she couldn’t deny it. “He is impressive, I’ll admit. You brought the ashen-haired barbarian here—how did you even meet him?” “He came to me,” Arkemis replied. “Said he wanted to learn alchemy.” “Alchemy? The barbarian wants to study alchemy?” “He really did learn,” Arkemis insisted, her eyes shining with pride. “He’s about as good as an apprentice now!” Karin shook her head in disbelief. None of it made any sense. Still, Arkemis’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “So? What do you think, Your Majesty? How strong is Ketal, in your estimation?” Arkemis was clearly dying to know. She’d heard that Ketal had triumphed over the monsters of the White Snowfield, but had no idea what level of power that truly meant. Karin, being a Hero herself, would surely have some insight. Yet Karin only pursed her lips, lost in thought. The silence stretched on, until Arkemis’s eyes grew wide. “What? Even you can’t figure him out? Seriously?” “Be quiet,” Karin snapped, a touch of wounded pride in her voice. “No, really?” Arkemis seemed genuinely shocked. To her, the High Elf Queen was the very definition of absolute power—a being who’d existed since before her own birth, the only one ever to contract with the Spirit King. As a child, Arkemis had once witnessed the extent of Karin’s might. It had been so overwhelming that it felt like the world itself was being overturned. Although she often complained about High Elves, Arkemis respected and even idolized Karin because of that strength. For such a figure to now admit she couldn’t measure Ketal’s power was almost inconceivable. “I can’t know everything,” Karin said at last, almost defensively. She recalled that when she touched Ketal, her instinct was to recoil—she’d felt a primal sense of pressure radiating from him. “While he may not use Myst, his strength is concentrated in his physical form. But I can’t see where his limits are,” she admitted. She shook her head, as if trying to clear her thoughts. “Not that it matters. He isn’t my enemy, and the Spirit King hasn’t said anything, either.” “Yeah, I suppose so,” Arkemis murmured, still sounding uncertain. Karin’s face twitched with irritation; she could tell Arkemis was now weighing her strength against Ketal’s. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by novel⸺fire.net How could this be? Karin thought. Karin had cherished Arkemis since her youth, quickly recognizing the girl’s talents and nurturing her for centuries. In time, Karin had come to view her almost as a daughter—a rare thing for a High Elf. That was why, even when Arkemis broke the rules, Karin had always been lenient, treating her as a beloved child rather than a subject. Even when Arkemis had left the sacred ground, Karin had used her power to protect her from retribution. Arkemis was special to Karin, more than anyone else. Yet now, Arkemis was openly doubting her strength. Even though she’d always been something of a troublemaker, she had never before questioned who was stronger. For Karin, it felt almost like a betrayal. I’m stronger than him, she thought, wounded pride surging within her. Who am I, if not the High Elf Queen—the only one to have contracted with the Spirit King? She was a Hero, said to be one of the mightiest beings in the world, and took immense pride in her power. That barbarian may be something unusual... but I am still stronger. If it came to a fight, I would win. Maybe I can’t break through his body, but as long as he doesn’t know Myst, he can’t touch me either. Admittedly, Ketal’s Karma surpassed her own, but he hadn’t yet acquired the corresponding strength. He couldn’t even restrain his own presence. All he did was wield overwhelming pressure with his physical body—amazing, but clearly limited. She didn’t believe for a second that she would lose to him. However, there was no need to prove it. She was friends with Arkemis and had no reason to challenge Ketal. If anything, the relationship was almost familial—since Arkemis seemed to have feelings for him, it made them practically kin. I could win, but there’s no need to demonstrate it, she decided, setting the matter aside. The next day, Ketal sought her out. Before she could even begin her explanation, he spoke first. “Karin. I have a favor to ask.” “Would you have a duel with me?” Karin’s breath caught in her chest. Ketal’s eyes sparkled with the innocent anticipation of a child, leaving her completely at a loss for words.