Shepherd Wizard-Chapter 202

Translator: Pai_

The moment the two forces collided, Turan felt the world come to a halt.

A silence stretched infinitely, as if a moment had been seized and stretched into eternity.

The lightning blade he had forged clashed with Badal's lightning bolt and shattered, he could see it clearly.

Each strand of light flickering and scattering, would it look like this if someone had captured it through thought photography and colored it?

Perhaps this is what the gods meant when they spoke of photographs.

‘Ah.’

That said, it wasn’t possible to physically do anything within this frozen world.

Needless to say, his limbs wouldn’t move even his eyeballs wouldn’t roll.

After staring at the grimacing Badal for a long time, Turan turned his awareness inward.

Fortunately, unlike the real world, he could move a bit more freely here.

The first thing he saw were two symbols that should have been the forms of glaring eyes within storm clouds and darkness infused with lightning, but now they were so mangled that even recognizing their original shapes was difficult.

Turan attempted to restore the fragments that tore through his inner world, but he soon realized it was a meaningless endeavor.

Just like how a sandcastle collapses easily due to a lack of cohesion when built with dry sand, the already deformed symbols kept crumbling apart.

‘Don’t tell me... has my bloodline ability been broken?’

Considering that the bloodline ability is connected to the form of the spirit form, this meant the structure of the spirit form had collapsed.

Even in this state of numbness, Turan felt as if his heart sank.

Fortunately, this frozen time, however it had come to be, gave him some room to breathe.

Taking a deep breath inwardly to regain his composure, Turan observed his condition and struggled to find a solution.

‘This moment won’t last forever. It shouldn’t.’

‘Once the world returns to normal, I won’t be able to block that attack.’

‘I have to find a way somehow.’

But all such thoughts hit a wall at one question.

How?

He couldn’t possibly fight Badal with a hole the size of a child’s head in his chest and a shattered spirit form.

It was clear the opponent had also reached his limit, if Turan could just block a few more attacks, he might manage, but the problem was how to block those few more.

After straining his mind for who knows how long, Turan’s thoughts eventually turned to the four shattered and tangled symbols.

If he could somehow reuse those, at least maintaining the lightning blade might be possible.

‘If I can’t recreate the combination of two, then I’ll have to construct a new form combining all four.’

It was an approach he had tried and failed multiple times before, and one he still had no grasp of how to achieve.

It couldn’t exactly be called a logical conclusion, but there was nothing else Turan could do at that moment.

He had even tried, just in case, to see if the activated Lavitas bloodline symbol in the Mimic Sacred Relic could mimic it as-is, but it hadn’t worked at all.

If he couldn’t substitute with another bloodline ability, then he would have to base it on the original forms that had once existed.

Like a child playing with clay, Turan slowly shaped the mangled forms while recalling things he had heard before.

‘The symbol of the bloodline ability reflected in the soul is like a modified version of a job class that existed in the old game world.’

Unlike the native inhabitants who trained in soul magic and learned symbol fusion after the fact, the fallen gods did not need a conscious process for this combination.

That’s because their souls were already engraved with the memories of having once been the physical bodies of the Preah God Tribe, game characters in that past world.

In other words, combining bloodline abilities was like acquiring an advanced job class from the old game world.

And according to what he had heard before, all those who possessed the final job class spoken of by the gods, those who had four bloodlines, had their own theme and accompanying heroic feats.

‘The Night Hunter is one who hides in darkness and hunts dark creatures.’

To never lose sight of the target, Chaser. To hide in darkness, Hunter. To sever tenacious life, Alchemist. And Shadow, which becomes an arrow, a spear, and a shield.

With those four powers, the ritual was to enter a labyrinth like the one built beneath the Tomb of the Gods and slay the most evil lifeform symbolizing darkness in order to achieve a heroic feat.

The Silver Sun, the Thunder Lord, and the Earth Mother Goddess all had their own unique themes and rituals like this.

Long ago, Monarch and the rest of the Preah God Tribe took note of this fact and created a method to compensate for lacking bloodline abilities through such rituals.

𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Unfortunately, it was confirmed that only those who possessed the body of a god, those who had crossed over from that other world, could undergo such a new job change.

However, if it were Turan himself, someone who shared many traits with the ancient gods, might he not be able to do it?

To establish his own theme and accomplish a corresponding heroic feat.

No, since achieving a feat within this space was impossible, it would be better to find something he had already done that matched the role.

‘What have I done?’

Many things came to mind.

He had defeated the Great Sea Serpent, created a vast reclaimed land in the south, managed a great noble house, and developed new weapons...

But when asked which of those could be considered worthy of combining four bloodline symbols and ascending to the seat of a new god, he couldn’t answer.

Turan spent what felt like dozens of days, maybe even more, in deep contemplation.

The superficial question of how to combine the four powers soon turned into the question of what he must become, and ultimately circled back to another fundamental question.

What am ‘I’?

Turan Parsha, Family Head of House Parsha, a wizard of Aravion and Zahar bloodline...

Turan gradually erased each part of his identity, including being Meisa’s lover and the friend of Solif and Ashiz, and what came to mind was the time long ago when he herded sheep on Hisaril Hill.

The unbearably dull pastoral days...

He recalled that it was that very time which defined the self known as Turan, a time that shaped the essence of who he was so strongly that he took on the name Parsha.

‘Shepherd.’

The sheep he had to protect weren’t merely powerless commoners.

They were all humans of this land, everyone unaware that those evil gods regarded them as disposable toys, those were the ones he must shepherd and rule.

With the thought, he felt strands of power flow in from beyond his consciousness.

It was a sensation he had felt before.

These were the unidentified strands that had been reaching out to him from across the world for some time now.

Something he had guessed was the emotions others held toward him began to interfere with his spirit form and restore the broken shapes.

Some people regarded him as a savior.

Rebuilding ruined cities, defeating invaders, and feeding the starving with countless animals.

Some people regarded him as a creator.

Transforming primal jungles into fields ready for sowing and shaping nature according to his will.

Some people regarded him as a destroyer.

Striking down the gods they once worshipped, breaking all existing order, and imposing a new one.

Some people regarded him as a master.

A protective fence from foreign invaders and one who sheared their wool to provide delicious food.

All of these things came together to form Turan Parsha, the existence of a wizard who believed his essence was that of a shepherd.

Now, the fragments of the symbols within Turan’s inner world were no longer scattered and formless.

The wind was to fly so that his hands and feet could reach his sheep wherever they were in the world.

The darkness was to wrap around himself so his sheep wouldn’t grow uneasy about the shepherd’s presence.

The eyes were to recognize the wolves targeting the sheep, no matter where they hid.

The lightning was to punish the wicked wolves that targeted the sheep.

The heroic feat required to become such an existence had already been achieved long ago.

How many times had he protected the sheep in need of safety and hunted the wicked wolves who preyed upon them?

Once he realized this, the four symbols in Turan’s inner world, his small inner world, took form once more.

A boy flying above a small fence with wings forged of wind, cloaked in darkness, glaring with wide-open eyes and holding lightning aloft, ready to strike at any moment.

The symbol of the Shepherd Bloodline, a fusion of four bloodlines, revealed its form.

*

The moment all the changes were sorted within his mind, time began to flow again, as if it had been waiting just for that instant.

Contrary to the feeling that hundreds of days had passed, in reality not even a single second had gone by.

As the flow of time resumed, Turan’s lightning blade and Badal’s plasma beam collided.

Badal’s eyes widened as the lightning he had fired bounced off without even scratching the blade.

“What-”

Turan’s eyes, staring silently at him, were so clear it was as if they reflected his opponent directly.

Just moments ago, those same eyes had looked dead, like he was about to die.

While the flustered Badal took a step back, Turan felt an immense power surging from the new symbol embedded within his inner world.

Just like the opponent had drawn massive power from the symbol of the Thunder Lord.

Turan now understood that this was not simply due to the combination of symbols.

The Shepherd within Turan’s inner world perfectly aligned with his own essence.

It was the same principle as when the fallen gods possessed bodies with temperaments similar to their own and were able to draw greater strength.

"You! What is this-”

Rather than answering the baffled question, Turan simply threw his body forward.

His lungs hadn’t fully regenerated yet, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could maintain this state anyway.

It was, of course, impossible for someone with the upper half of their internal organs practically blown away to move so intensely with mere muscle and tendon contractions.

That was because he had replaced the electrical signals that should have been sent from the brain with finely tuned lightning magic.

Even for someone of the Aravion bloodline, it was a technique bordering on the impossible, but the current Turan could do it with surprising ease.

Because the magic he intended to use functioned almost identically to a skill.

Furthermore, the force akin to Acceleration, originally a skill from the Storm bloodline, now naturally enhanced Turan’s body.

Turan flew in with a motion so smooth it felt unaffected by gravity and drove his fist straight into Badal’s face.

“Ghk-”

Badal’s jaw twisted from a single blow. Instinctively, he reached out to counterattack, but Turan evaded it effortlessly.

Despite his aged body, Badal’s raw strength should have been superior due to his Fighter Bloodline, and Turan couldn’t even draw upon his Ruvan bloodline since he was using Healing Magic by activating the Lavitas bloodline, yet he felt no sense of crisis.

Thanks to the intense martial arts training he had done with Haram in the past, Turan’s striking and defensive technique was on another level, and he was far faster and had a wider field of vision.

The ensuing exchange was a one-sided assault by Turan.

He delivered a vicious kick to the shin, and when Badal recoiled, he struck the back of his head with a punch; when Badal swung a hammer, Turan dodged it and slammed his side, shattering ribs.

Only then did Badal realize he had no chance in close combat. With a rough cough, he hastily pulled his body back using magnetism.

He needed to at least gain some distance to buy time to think.

But as if mocking that idea, Turan instead stepped back a few paces, widening the distance himself.

As Badal regained a moment of composure, he noticed lightning had gathered in Turan’s right hand.

Was he planning to extend it into a lightning blade and attack like before?

Contrary to that thought, the lightning Turan had formed took the shape of a slingshot, and a steel ball was set in place at its end.

The reason lightning, which usually had no physical form, could hold a steel ball was due to magnetism.

At a glance, it looked as though the slingshot was made of lightning, but in reality, it was simply suspended in the air.

However, whenever Turan spun the lightning slingshot, the steel ball rotated naturally, following the pouch's motion with a smooth hum.

“Badal.”

At that moment, Turan opened his mouth for the first time.

It meant that his lungs, burned away in the earlier attack, had regenerated in mere tens of seconds.

Badal failed to realize that the act of calling his name wasn’t to say something, but merely to lock onto a target.

Because Turan let go of one end of the spinning lightning slingshot, and the steel ball shot toward Badal.

An act that relied entirely on magnetism for centrifugal force, a railgun throw, so to speak.

Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have been considered an efficient move.

Since Badal possessed the Storm bloodline, he could read the flow of magnetism, and the railgun was a technique that had to lay down a magnetic path in the direction it would fire, thereby revealing the trajectory of the shot.

In truth, it should’ve been easy to dodge or deflect the attack with just a light twist of the body.

However, Turan’s current attack was a completely different technique from the railgun sniping he had used before.

The magnetic path was created simultaneously with the launch.

The time it took for the steel ball to travel along that path and strike its target was but a moment.

Unlike previous uses of magnetism, every step of the process occurred in an instant, because this technique, more than any other, was the most familiar and fitting for the current Turan, the wizard of the Shepherd bloodline.

According to the basic principles of magic, it was more ‘plausible’ than anything else.

Boom- a deafening roar tore through the air, and Badal realized that the pain he had felt a moment ago was gone.

Because, before he knew it, he had lost his body and become a floating spirit form.

He could see his old, headless body, used for hundreds of years, falling helplessly to the ground.

‘Did I… lose this easily?’

He had made all kinds of plans, but he hadn’t expected to lose.

That was why he had even risked losing his body, pushing his power into overdrive.

But to be defeated in a development straight out of a shonen comic, a sudden power-up driven by sheer willpower?

While briefly overwhelmed with confusion and despair at the incomprehensible situation, a shadow suddenly loomed before him as his spirit form was about to return to Aravion’s stronghold as pre-designated.

It was Turan’s spirit form, now slightly changed in appearance from before.

[Like I said earlier, I’m feeling grateful, so I’ll only give you half the pain I had planned. Not sure if that’ll make you feel better, though.]

Only then did Badal realize that this was no shonen comic.

What lay ahead of him would be, if anything, more akin to a horror film.

Turan grabbed hold of Badal’s spirit form and pulled the prey into the empty slot in his Soul Prison.

*

After everything was over, Turan returned to his physical body and looked around, realizing that the others still couldn’t grasp what had happened.

It was natural.

To him, it had been an event stretched across a very long span of time, but to others, it had happened in what felt like an instant.

Just moments ago, he had recklessly charged in to save Meisa and suffered a fatal wound, and now he had suddenly manifested overwhelming power and crushed Badal.

Glancing down, he saw that the gaping hole in his chest from earlier had completely healed.

Even after taking a few deep breaths, he felt no discomfort.

‘It really is fast. Has it been about a minute now?’

The reason he could recover so easily was because the magical power drawn from the Shepherd combination was far stronger than his physical body.

Just as a low-ranking Healer would struggle to heal a high-ranking noble, while a high-ranking Healer could heal a lower one with ease, Turan’s body was already a bit stronger than that of an average Family Head, but his magical power had far surpassed even that level.

“T-Turan, are you okay right now?”

When he turned his head toward the voice behind him, he saw Meisa’s face, a mix of relief and concern.

Anyone deeply familiar with Soul Magic would know that methods of gaining such sudden and immense power usually came with severe side effects.

“You don’t have to worry. This power… it doesn’t come with any particular price.”

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t that there was no cost at all.

Turan understood that the creation of the Shepherd’s symbol within him had been heavily influenced by the hearts of others, their faith and belief in him.

By fully envisioning himself as the being they longed for, he had been able to combine the four symbols.

In other words, the moment he became something different from the being they wished for, his symbol would lose its power.

If he were to turn his back on the weak who sought protection, or ignore the wolves that tried to harm them.

“First, I need to get the situation under control.”

The wizards of Nagin had collectively gone berserk and turned into monsters, but most were dealt with by Meisa, and the rest were subdued by the Parsha army.

The possessed bodies were either all killed during the earlier battle or, if any survived, they had already fled.

As for the wizards of Aravion, every one of them stood blankly, as if they had lost all will to fight.

They seemed deeply shaken by how Badal had been killed in an instant.

“Since the fight’s over, I’ll leave the cleanup... to you.”

Perhaps it was the backlash from having stayed conscious for such a long time.

As soon as he felt that everything was finally over, a wave of overwhelming fatigue washed over him.

He sensed that it wasn’t something he could recover from with just a day or two of sleep. With lips and tongue half-paralyzed, Turan forced them to move and gave Meisa one final request.

“Monarch... might be nearby. Be careful...”

That was the last thing he was able to say before losing consciousness.