Chapter 316: Tyr’s Impression of the Divine

A report from the Rune Research Institute was placed before High Lord Gawain. He studied it for a long while, then exhaled softly, rose from his seat, and opened the door leading to the terrace. Stepping outside, the cold winter wind immediately hit his face.

Despite the chill of the season, the people of Cecil’s domain were far from subdued. Under the bright sunlight that followed the recent snowfall, townsfolk bustled through the streets and alleys, heading to their workplaces or visiting the administrative hall in search of new opportunities.

“Successful signal transmission within a magical field coverage area…” Gawain mused, eyes scanning the report again. “Within a magic field, oscillations of specific frequencies can enable wireless transmission. The ‘black box’ part of the communication spell seems to function by allowing the frequency of magical oscillations to vary over a wide area… Could it be that the entire world is enveloped in a single magic field? That raw magic isn’t just chaotic energy wandering the natural world, but a vast, intricately structured system?”

His thoughts drifted as his gaze casually swept over the courtyard below. Halfway through, he stopped, intrigued.

There, near the mansion’s gate, a slender young woman was cautiously peeking out as if sneaking away. It was Tyr—the sea witch who rarely left her room. Her odd behavior piqued his curiosity. She hesitated at the courtyard entrance, then carefully extended the tip of her tail to poke at a patch of snow that hadn’t yet been cleared outside the gate.

The next moment, Tyr’s entire body stiffened like a taut string, and her tail snapped back swiftly.

Two guards standing by the gate watched the strange sea creature with baffled expressions.

Unable to resist, Gawain called out, “Tyr, what are you doing?”

Startled by the voice from above, the sea witch nearly flicked her tail and darted out the gate. Then, spotting Gawain on the terrace, she wagged her tail and said, “I want to go out! But your human winters are just too cold…”

“You actually go outside sometimes?” Gawain asked, surprised. “Have you ended your hibernation?”

“I haven’t swum in the river for ages,” Tyr replied. “I saw the sun was shining bright today and thought I’d take a swim to relax. But… brrr—the snow is so cold! I think I’ll pass.”

Gawain glanced up at the enormous sun hanging in the sky, nearly covering half the horizon. The sea witch was right—the sun was indeed strong.

Tyr then waved her arms and tail tip energetically. “Human lord, are you sunbathing up there?”

“Yeah,” Gawain answered casually.

“Then I’ll sunbathe with you!”

She called out from afar, then flicked her tail and began inching toward the terrace. At first, Gawain thought she intended to enter the house and climb the stairs to the second floor, so he turned to open the terrace door. But before he could act, he realized something was off.

Tyr stopped in the middle of the courtyard, coiled her long tail twice like a spring, and trembled as she pushed her upper body upward. Then she began compressing herself tighter and tighter.

At that moment, Gawain guessed what the clever sea witch was up to and hurriedly warned, “Wait—”

But it was too late. With a sudden “pop,” Tyr compressed herself into a flattened spring and shot straight toward the terrace.

A faint blue barrier instantly shimmered above the terrace, enveloping every angle of approach. Gawain watched helplessly as Tyr collided headfirst with the shield, followed by a loud smack as her tail hit the barrier.

The bewildered mermaid—part sea serpent, part salted fish—slid down the shield right before his eyes.

Seconds later, the barrier faded. Gawain leaned over the terrace railing and saw Tyr wrapping her tail around a support pillar, struggling to climb up. Her unusual tail control made the climb difficult, but the second floor wasn’t very high. With a strong push, she managed to pull herself up.

Once atop the railing, Tyr stretched out a hand. “Hey, don’t just stand there—give me a hand.”

Gawain expressionlessly reached out and hauled the sea witch onto the terrace. “Here.”

Once safely up, Tyr immediately crossed her arms and complained, “Why did you put up a shield on the terrace? It wasn’t there a few days ago!”

Gawain shrugged. “Mainly to keep Amber out. Now every window, balcony, and terrace has a shield. Anyone rushing in will just run into a barrier.”

Tyr gave him a sideways glance. “Does it work?”

Gawain sighed. “Not really. Amber just Shadow-Steps right through. It’s more like a mousetrap.”

Tyr looked helpless as she curled up seriously, muttering, “I live here too, you know. How come no one told me about all these changes?”

“Because you spend most of your time sleeping. When you’re awake, you just eat. I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire Cecil domain got blown up and you only found out at the next meal.”

Tyr sized Gawain up and suddenly said, “You always look so stern and serious in front of others. I didn’t expect you to be so funny when you talk.”

Gawain paused, then chuckled and sighed. “I’m not really that serious by nature. But as a lord—especially one who’s practically stepped out of history books—I have to consider my image.”

“You humans are strange, with all your self-imposed rules,” Tyr shook her sea-blue hair, which shimmered like waves in the sunlight. “We sea witches don’t bother with such illusions. We’re straightforward—our thoughts and actions are unfiltered. Well, most of the time…”

Because of Tyr’s odd schedule and lazy attitude, Gawain rarely had the chance to learn about the deep sea from her. Now that she brought it up, he seized the opportunity. “By the way, what’s your role in your people?”

“I’m a Tide Master,” Tyr shrugged. “A combatant.”

“A Tide Master?” Gawain blinked, impressed by the title. “What kind of position is that?”

Tyr crossed her arms and rested her tail tip on her chin, thinking. “By your human standards… probably a battle priestess. A high-ranking one, responsible for creating strategic-level magical effects on the battlefield. If I had to compare it to your military ranks, I’d say it’s like a centurion.”

Gawain was genuinely surprised. “So you’re that formidable?”

He had assumed Tyr was just a lazy homebody who somehow swam all the way from the Endless Sea to the human realm. Even among the deep-sea sirens, she seemed like a solitary recluse. But now, hearing her reveal such an impressive title, it was clear she held a mid-to-upper rank in her society.

Hmm… now he was curious about how sea witches climbed their social ladder. Maybe they picked commanders based on appetite or walking style.

“You look like you’re thinking something suspicious,” Tyr stared into Gawain’s eyes for a long moment. “Listen, I may seem lazy, but when danger strikes and there’s water nearby, most of you humans would run away… you can’t beat me!”

Gawain thought she’d just slipped out a strange phrase, but he didn’t want to call her out and risk ending the conversation. Instead, he changed the subject. “You mentioned you’re a battle priestess—does the word ‘priestess’ in your language have religious connotations? Do sea witches have their own religion or belief system?”

He recalled Tyr once saying that sea witches didn’t believe in gods.

“If by religion and belief you mean worshiping specific deities like humans do, then no, we don’t believe in gods,” Tyr explained. “But we do have our own objects of reverence. We worship the ‘spirit’ of all sea witches—the collective consciousness of our race and the ocean itself. We call it ‘Eva.’ I don’t know if you can understand this symbolic kind of worship. For us, Eva isn’t a god, but she holds a position in our society similar to your human gods.”

Gawain stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Worshiping the spirit of a race and a symbolic aspect of nature… I get it. In fact, similar beliefs exist on land. The Ogure tribes in the western continent have a kind of panentheistic faith—they worship ancestors, natural phenomena like thunder, wind, rocks, and plants, and even the cycle of life and death. This is partly due to their multi-ethnic society. Also, modern druids tend toward panentheism, venerating ‘nature’ and ‘life’ rather than specific gods.”

“I know about that—the big white stag is already dead,” Tyr nodded. “But honestly, your land people’s religions are really strange. Your churches change again and again, your entire civilization resets with every magical cataclysm. Yet no matter how many times your civilization collapses, when it rises again, you still worship those gods… They’re just powerful beings with a lot of chewiness, so why do they hold such appeal for you land dwellers?”

Tyr’s words were casual, but Gawain’s heart skipped a beat at the last few lines.

Every time the magical cataclysm reshuffles the world, the new mortal civilizations rebuild similar faiths and religions?

(End of chapter)