Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 0: Prologue A constant breeze swept across Hisaril Hill.
It was a wind born in the towering peaks to the west, descending to brush against the short, stubborn weeds of the hillside.
Turan the shepherd loved nothing more than lying in a sun-drenched field, feeling that breeze while keeping watch over his flock. More accurately, it was simply the chore he loathed the least. He only preferred it because it was easier than shearing wool or mucking out the stables; he had never truly found joy in the work.
In truth, his greatest enemy wasn't backbreaking labor, but the crushing weight of boredom.
Every time he opened his eyes, he saw the same landscape, the same buildings, and the same chores, all leading to the same bedtime. Sometimes, fearing he might forget how to speak entirely, he made a game of talking to himself and providing his own answers.
Unable to bear the solitude—or perhaps just to trade for a few necessities—he would occasionally head down to the small village at the foot of the hill. Those trips, however, were never pleasant.
Every single inhabitant of the village disliked Turan. Of course, Turan felt exactly the same way about them.
"The sun hasn't even begun to set, and a young fellow like you is already slacking off?"
Late in the afternoon, as Turan lay in the sunny field watching his sheep, a shadow stretched across him. The man's name was Labus, one of the village elders.
Instead of standing to greet him, Turan simply frowned.
"Move it, old man. You're blocking the sun."
Turan disliked everyone in the village, but he harbored a particular distaste for Labus. Five years ago, when Turan's mother passed away, Labus had tried to seize all the sheep on the hill, claiming they should be communal village property under the guise of "managing the estate." Turan had been forced to fight a near-war with the villagers just to keep what was his.
Labus's face hardened at the blunt dismissal, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay calm. There was no point in getting angry; if it came to a fistfight, he was the one who would be heading back down the hill with a broken nose.
"Last night, Rob spotted a magical beast at the edge of the village. He said it was a leopard as large as a house, wreathed in pitch-black shadows."
A magical beast was a creature that had awakened to the power of magic. They were larger and more intelligent than ordinary animals, capable of wielding mystical powers. While strength varied between individuals, the rule was simple: the stronger the animal before its mutation, the more dangerous the resulting beast. A leopard-type magical beast was something ordinary people could hardly hope to survive.
"Oh, dear," Turan said flatly.
"Are you not afraid? You're the most likely target for a beast in these parts."
"I am afraid. Terrified, even."
Despite his words, there wasn't a trace of agitation on Turan's face. To Labus, the boy's attitude was utterly incomprehensible. What kind of nerves did this brat have to react to a predator like that with such indifference? Especially when he didn't even live within the safety of the village walls.
"Anyway, the village chief has gone to the city to request a mage to subjugate the beast, so watch yourself. And don't take the sheep too far if you can help it."
Labus hadn't come all this way out of concern for Turan. In his heart, he wished the shepherd would simply be snatched away, but Turan's sheep were a vital source of food and wool for the village. Turan's death meant losing the flock. A magical beast wouldn't be considerate enough to kill the shepherd and leave the livestock untouched.
Sensing the old man's ulterior motives, Turan didn't feel the slightest bit of gratitude. He responded with heavy sarcasm.
"I'm so touched by your concern I hardly know what to do with myself. Now, if you're done talking, get lost. Your breath is so foul I think my nose is starting to rot."
As Labus grumbled his way back down the hill, Turan fell into thought, reflecting on the old man's words.
A mage, huh...
Just as beasts that wielded mystical power were called magical beasts, humans who did the same were called mages. They were also known as nobles or knights. Just as a magical beast became a leader that commanded its kind, mages reigned at the very top of human society.
I wonder how strong they are.
If a village chief could afford to hire one, it was likely a bottom-tier mage with nothing better to do. Still, he wanted to see one at least once. It might be dangerous to get close, but perhaps he could steal a glance from a distance.
While lost in thought, a subtle scent caught Turan's nose.
The smell of blood?
It was fresh, as if it had only just been spilled. He grabbed the staff leaning beside him and followed the scent. Before long, he reached the source.
Turan clicked his tongue lightly. "Told me to be careful, and then he goes and gets himself killed first."
Labus's corpse lay scattered in pieces, looking like red flowers in full bloom. Judging by the vivid claw marks carved across the remains, the attacker was definitely not human.
"Is it you?"
[Grrr—]
As Turan turned, a shadow surged from beneath the trees, coalescing into the form of a beast. It was a massive leopard, at least two meters tall at the shoulder—large enough to make a meal out of a bear.
Turan looked it straight in the eye and declared: "Die."
At that moment, a spark of lightning flickered above the leopard's head. The beast flinched and leaped backward, but soon, provoked and enraged, it roared and lunged toward Turan.
"That didn't work... Stop."
At the second command, the leopard's body seemed to seize up for a moment, but again, in less than a second, a spark of lightning flickered and its body regained its freedom.
Perhaps realizing that the weak prey before it was playing some strange trick, the leopard didn't hesitate any longer. It swung a massive forepaw with strength and speed that would have killed an ordinary person instantly.
However, contrary to its expectation of shredding the prey, its sharp claws swung uselessly through the air. In the split second the beast had flinched, Turan had moved with unnatural speed, stepping back out of range.
"I figured 'Die' wouldn't work, but I guess I can't even manage 'Stop'..."
Turan nodded as if he had learned something new. He pulled a sling and a smooth, rounded stone from his pocket and loaded it. He swung it a few times and chanted an incantation.
"Be hard, be fast, pierce—target: the head."
It was a truly intuitive and simple incantation, almost to the point of being ridiculous. The moment he released the cord, the stone tore through the air with a thunderous roar.
The beast's instincts screamed. Against that attack, its tough hide would be useless.
[Screee!]
It shrieked in terror and twisted its body. The stone, which should have hit its mark, grazed its ear by a hair's breadth. But before it could feel any relief, the stone—which should have flown far into the distance—arced sharply as if steered by an invisible hand. It slammed into the back of the beast's head and punched straight through its brow.
The Shadow Leopard, its skull and brain pulverized, died on the spot without even a whimper.
"Tsk."
Clicking his tongue at the thought that he had just done the villagers a favor, Turan grabbed the dead beast by the tail. Though it was a massive carcass that would have taken several grown men to lift, he dragged it along as easily as if it were a dead dog.
Maybe I'll just toss it into a ravine.
The scavengers and insects would take care of the remains soon enough. It wasn't exactly a clean disposal, but it didn't matter. The cowards in the village wouldn't have the courage to follow the beast's trail anyway, and by the time the mage hired by the chief arrived in a few days, nothing would be left.
No one would ever suspect that a mere shepherd living on Hisaril Hill, at the western edge of the world, was actually a mage.
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