Chapter 62: The Spring Festival Sports Meet

Of course, Conti knew that for a frail little mage like Joan, competing against the robust youths of the Asa tribe on the sports field would be a difficult endeavor. Taking the list of events, Conti scrutinized it from top to bottom, and finally suggested he enter the “Dart Throwing” contest—a competition that emphasized technique over physical strength.

Before making his decision, Joan went to the dart training field to observe. He discovered that the Asa tribe used boomerangs in their competitions, and the rules were tailored to the characteristics of these weapons. The type of darts he excelled at were too light, their range too short, putting him at a distinct disadvantage under the existing rules.

Conti hinted that he could use the “Mage Hand” spell to extend the range of his darts. Joan considered this, but ultimately dismissed such an obvious method of cheating—he had other, more subtle tricks up his sleeve.

The Spring Festival Games were held on the last weekend of February. Joan registered for three events: the 100-yard dash, tree-climbing by hand, and the running long jump.

On the day of the competition, when the thin, thirteen-year-old boy appeared on the field, he stood in stark contrast to the other tall, muscular contestants. The audience, surprised yet admiring his courage, cheered him on—perhaps out of sympathy, assuming Joan was only there to participate and enjoy the spirit of the event. No one expected what happened next.

Joan did not disappoint the cheering crowd—he advanced to the semi-finals in all three events with unexpectedly outstanding results. In the tree-climbing competition, he even made it to the finals, ultimately earning seventh place.

When the two-day sports meet concluded, Joan had not only won the respect of the Asa tribe as he had wished, but also earned himself a nickname he was less willing to accept—“The Monkey Mage!”

As was customary, a bonfire party was held on the night of the closing ceremony, with the aroma of roasted meat and ale mingling with the songs of men and women, lingering in the night air. Joan did not attend the party; firstly, because he felt somewhat guilty—after all, he had relied on the “Athletic Belt” rather than his own ability to achieve those results, and standing in public to hear words of praise made his face burn with shame. Secondly, Conti’s elder brother, Magni Powhatan, had returned that night, leading a scouting party of Asa cavalry from the north. Conti’s parents were eager for news from their eldest son about the situation on the northern bank of the Yphon River, and Joan, equally curious, accompanied Conti to the village outskirts to welcome Magni home.

Joan and Conti waited at the village entrance for over half an hour. It was not until the moon hung high in the sky that the rapid sound of approaching hooves reached their ears. Soon, a cavalry force nearly a hundred strong appeared in Joan’s view. The riders wore forest camouflage cloaks striped in deep green; as the night wind billowed their cloaks, glimpses of the swords and knives at their sides caught the moonlight with a cold gleam.

Arriving at the village gate, the riders reined in their horses in unison and dismounted one after another. The leader was an especially tall and imposing man, exuding an aura akin to a wild beast from the jungle. When he pushed back his hood, revealing a striking and chiseled face, Conti cried out in delight and rushed forward.

“Magni, you’re finally back!”

“Ha! You little rascal, that’s exactly what I wanted to say to you. Where have you been this past month?” Magni lifted his sister and kissed her on the forehead, his feigned reproach full of brotherly affection.

“Well… it’s a long story. In short, I had to recuperate in Doreen Town due to some unexpected events, and I was well cared for by many kind people during that time.”

“This young man must be one of those ‘kind people,’ isn’t he?” Magni smiled at Joan, his gaze full of meaning.

“That’s right! His name is Joan—he’s my lifesaver and also my best friend! Magni, you’re not allowed to bully Joan!” Conti warned sternly.

Magni shrugged and spread his hands with mock grievance. “Ah, you’ve got a new friend now and no longer care for your elder brother. What a wonderful little sister you are!”

“Nonsense! Don’t talk rubbish!” Conti blushed and playfully pummeled her brother. Considering Magni’s bear-like physique, her fists seemed far too small to have any effect, but he played along, pretending to be overwhelmed by her assault, making his sister laugh instead of fume.

Joan envied the deep bond between the siblings. As an orphan, he had little understanding of how brothers and sisters related to one another.

After their playful quarrel, Conti remembered her parents’ instructions and hurried Magni home. On the way, she was the liveliest of the three, first introducing Joan's family circumstances to her brother, then, with heartfelt pride, presenting her elder brother—seven years her senior—to Joan.

Magni Powhatan was indeed someone to be proud of. The young chieftain of the Algonquin tribe was already praised as exceptionally gifted—by the age of twenty, he was recognized as the tribe’s foremost warrior. Magni's training was unique; unlike Conti, who inherited her father’s druidic arts, or followed her mother into the path of the ranger, he had apprenticed himself to the legendary Lord Beowulf of the Kitland people from the far east of the Old World.

Lord Beowulf and his wife Natasha had traveled to the New World years before, living for a long period in Powhatan village and forging a deep friendship with Conti’s family. Unfortunately, Conti was too young at the time to benefit from their tutelage as her brother had.

Magni’s first extraordinary profession was “Lion Totem Warrior.” After reaching a certain level, he advanced under Beowulf’s guidance to become a “Coad Fighter.” The Lion Totem Warrior was an enhanced barbarian class, while the Coad Fighter was an even more powerful and demanding divine class—in simple terms, a “paladin capable of berserking.” Magni’s first impression on people was one of wildness, and his performance on the battlefield was even more savage and fearless, earning him the nickname “Mad Magni” among the tribe.

Magni’s approach to life reflected his dual profession: brutal as a berserker to his enemies, warm and devoted as a paladin to his friends and family. Joan found himself impressed, unable to reconcile how such a passionate and cheerful young knight could be labeled a “madman”—after all, he had yet to witness Magni’s ferocity on the battlefield.

Among the younger generation of the Algonquin tribe, Magni Powhatan enjoyed immense popularity. As Joan and Conti followed him through the square where the bonfire celebration was underway, they could barely go a few steps without being stopped for greetings. People rose repeatedly to toast Magni; he always smiled and waved, never refusing a drink, downing each cup in a single draft. His boldness and prodigious drinking only added to his reputation.

The three of them made slow progress, stopping frequently, and after half an hour finally reached the blazing central bonfire. There, Victor Kalinin and Matoka Powhatan awaited their eldest son’s return, with the elders of the Algonquin tribe gathered around the flames.

“Magni, come and sit—we’ve all been waiting for your news,” Matoka called him to her side, while Victor handed his beloved son a cup of foaming, snow-white ale.

Magni bowed slightly to his father, took the cup with both hands, and drained it in one gulp, earning another round of cheers.

Watching the Asa tribe’s custom of emptying every cup, Joan couldn’t help but frown. Cheating in athletic contests was one thing, but there was no way to fake his way through drinking. Fortunately, Victor and Matoka understood his predicament and had already informed their friends that Joan was a mage. It was common knowledge that mages preferred to keep their wits about them and were always moderate with alcohol. Except for a single cup Magni insisted on to thank him for caring for Conti, no one else pressed Joan to drink, much to his relief.

After making the rounds with the elders, Magni wiped his mouth, put down his cup, and began to speak of serious matters.

In recent years, Victor Kalinin and his disciples had been keeping a close watch on the “Black Blight” spreading from the northern “Hanged Forest,” fearing this supernatural disease would destroy the heart of Alfheim. Magni had led a scouting party north, risking much to approach the source of the Black Blight—the Hanged Forest itself—in order to uncover its true cause.

“Father, Mother, elders, during our northern reconnaissance, we crossed the Yphon River and reached the outskirts of the Hanged Forest. There, great stands of black fir trees grow, and an unpleasant aura hangs in the air, as if every tree is watching us, southerners, with hostile eyes.”

“I suspect the fairies who once inhabited those trees have all joined the forces of evil,” Conti interjected.

Magni nodded slightly, picking up the thread. “In recent years, the ‘Conquest Order’ has rapidly expanded its power in the Midgard region. It’s said the Hanged Forest is the stronghold of this cult, which preaches conquest and destruction. Their slogans include, ‘Pioneers bear the sacred duty of transforming nature,’ ‘Pioneers have the right to exploit all unclaimed natural resources,’ and ‘If forests and beasts stand in the way of pioneers, they must be subdued with fire and sword’… As you can hear, these catchphrases are dangerously persuasive—especially to settlers from the Old World desperate for fertile land. Thanks to these slogans, the Conquest Order has won the support of tens of thousands of colonists in Midgard. Its influence nearly rivals that of the Timothée Church and even the official faith of the colonies, the Church of the Holy Light.”