CHAPTER 5: CHAPTER 5: THE SPIRITS’ INTERPLANAR WAR AND THE SPIRIT OF THE STAG

Listening to Beard, Ryan began to grasp the truth.

This world of supernatural powers was extraordinary—unlike any illusions or fantasies he had encountered in his previous life.

In the Flor Empire, within the royal family, there existed a Templar Order, a military force that once trampled over the bones of giants and even challenged the Spirits with their severed heads.

The Grand Duke Meyers, who brought the Northern Wind Province under imperial control, commanded a battalion of Nightmare Knights, invincible wherever they marched.

The empire’s three other grand dukes each possessed similarly renowned legions—beyond ordinary troops.

Even Ryan’s father, Count Rimehart, led the Flame Dragon Knights, whose steeds were said to breathe the fire of flame dragons.

Outside the empire—in the kingdoms, duchies, and counties of southern nobles descended from the northern frontier—many possessed their own supernatural armies.

Elves, dwarves, and other non-human races had such forces too.

Before the Spirits waged their Interplanar War, these supernatural legions did not exist.

The reason they emerged was one word: Divinity.

Only Spirits possess divinity—but when the interplanar war began, Spirits perished. Their deaths scattered divinity across the planes, giving rise to these supernatural troops.

Even the Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Technique, which Ryan practiced, likely had divine origins. Only those with Rimehart blood could train in it, making it exclusive to their family.

Thinking of this, Ryan looked at his own golden finger—his "cheat" or system.

"Spirituality... how is it related to divinity?"

Spirits could generate divinity—and the people in Ryan’s territory seemed to grant him spirituality.

Spirits could start a war that plunged entire realms into eternal winter. Could the spirituality Ryan collected... do something similar?

He raised his head and saw firelight in the distance—a village appeared.

Surrounded by a palisade of frozen logs, the village used these makeshift walls for basic defense and to block the wind.

It was bitterly cold. Each step sank Ryan’s knees into the snow. Compared to this, the Frozen Soil Territory felt practically warm.

Given the climate, the people here clearly had better methods of surviving the cold than his own villagers.

They had followed a trail of footprints, arriving at the village gate where over a dozen strong men in animal-hide clothes were standing guard with spears.

However, upon seeing Ryan and his companions, the guards visibly relaxed.

Rosen, by contrast, remained alert. He had witnessed far too much hostility on their journey to the Frozen Soil Territory—including the time Ryan himself was nearly scattered by an ambush.

He gripped his weapon nervously. These men showed no signs of knightly breathing techniques, yet all of them felt at least as strong as he was.

Especially the leader—he wore nothing but a layer of animal hide, with much of his body bare to the frigid wind.

Doesn’t he feel cold?

"Aren’t you cold?" Ryan asked, genuinely curious. There was no trace of supernatural energy on the young man.

The youth, who looked only four or five years older than Ryan but was sturdy and powerful, replied confidently.

"Not cold."

He patted his chest, showing off his strength. Then, curiously, he asked:

"Are you a noble lord? What’s a noble doing here in our tribe?"

"Aren’t you supposed to be guarding the underground fire veins?"

Ryan didn’t answer. Instead, he asked:

"Will you invite us in?"

After looking the trio over, the youth nodded and stepped aside. The others lowered their spears.

Clearly, this young man held a high status within the tribe.

"He’s the child closest to the Spirit of the Stag,"

explained a middle-aged tribesman when Ryan inquired. The man spoke sparingly, and his attitude suggested a deep awe toward Ryan’s clean and noble appearance.

"Not long ago, Brand hunted a great-horned stag alone. Maybe this time, he’ll succeed and be blessed by the Spirit of the Stag."

Apparently, the footprints they’d followed had belonged to this Brand.

Two hours later, as night fell, the village—called Deer Spirit—lit over a hundred torches, turning night to day and keeping howling wolves at bay.

Ryan watched as the villagers surrounded Brand at the center of the ritual grounds, dancing a ceremonial dance. Brand knelt in the middle, and before him lay a great-horned stag, bound at all four legs.

The antlers were massive—Ryan felt they could easily pierce through Rosen’s leather armor.

Beard’s gaze was even keener than Ryan’s.

"Those antlers could be crafted into a powerful bow,"

he said, increasing Ryan’s interest.

Brand drew a matte-finished dagger—clearly not forged from metal, but carved from bone near the base of the stag’s antler.

Slowly, the blade approached the stag—but the animal’s eyes remained eerily calm.

Ryan noticed every villager around the ritual wore a white bone mask, also carved from stag skulls. The effect was haunting.

"Summon the Spirit of the Stag!"

Several elderly villagers hauled out a three-to-four-meter-tall stag-head statue, placing it before Brand just as he removed the stag’s still-beating heart.

The dancers fell to their knees in reverence.

"Brand, this is your third attempt. If—"

"There is no if."

Brand pressed the heart against the statue’s brow. Blood trickled down.

Time passed. Firelight flickered beneath the night sky. The silence was suffocating.

"It failed. The Spirit of the Stag perished in the war of the Spirits. We... have lost our faith."

The elders wept. Brand himself fell into silence.

At that moment, Ryan—without even realizing how—had walked from the far outer circle into the very heart of the ritual.

He stared at the massive stag head, then reached out his hand.

The dazed villagers didn’t stop him.

But the moment Ryan’s palm touched the statue, a piercing cry echoed across the heavens. The sound froze the world.

Countless beasts trembled and collapsed in the snow.

The massive stag head shattered.

Everyone saw it: a transparent, proud stag spirit leapt from the shards, locked eyes with the young noble boy, and charged directly into his chest.

The spirit merged with Ryan.

In an instant, Ryan felt his bones crackling and immense strength surging into his limbs.

His body even grew slightly taller in that brief moment.

"Did I... just become a full knight?"