Chapter 99: The Mysterious Intruder

"Keep the shield in contact with your body, then speak the activation word *úré* in Elvish." Joanne stood beside the old dwarf, explaining.

*Úré* carried the meanings of "flame" and "searing" in the Elvish tongue—naturally suited as the activation word for fire-based spells.

"Hmph! Elvish again. I've never cared for that namby-pamby language! Lad, you really ought to try using Dwarvish as your spell activation word. At least it has more spirit than some Elvish prattle!"

Despite all his grumbling, the old dwarf fluently uttered the word *úré*. The instant the syllable left his lips, the adamantine tower shield erupted with a crimson glow, and a dense sheet of flame burst forth from its front face. The roaring fire spread in a conical spray, instantly covering the fifteen-foot space directly before the shield, igniting the riverside shrubs before expanding out over the water's surface, where it then dispersed on its own.

From the moment Flint spoke the activation incantation until the cone of flame finished erupting, barely a single second had passed. Where the blaze had raged, a large swath of scorched vegetation remained, and a thick plume of steam rose from above the river.

"Wow—that's amazing!" Tom clapped his hands in excitement. "Do it again! Do it again!"

Flint was beaming as well. He swept his thick beard back over his shoulder to keep it from being singed by the shield's fiery blast, then spoke the incantation once more to trigger the enchanted effect. Another cone of flame burst forth on cue. He repeated this three times in total, after which the magical aura surrounding the shield dimmed. No matter how the old dwarf recited the words thereafter, nothing happened.

Flint was not surprised by this. As he had suspected beforehand, the magic stored within the shield was limited—it could release "Burning Hands" only three times per day.

Joanne was equally pleased with his handiwork. At least he had not disappointed Flint's expectations. He glanced up at the sky and realized that night had fallen without his noticing. Taking his leave of Flint and Tom, he shouldered his pack and headed home.

After swinging a forging hammer all afternoon, Joanne was thoroughly worn out. He soaked in a hot bath when he got home, then sat down at the table and—for once—ate a proper dinner in earnest. Afterward, he returned to his desk and habitually opened his spellbook, when he suddenly remembered that he had not yet gone to visit his grandfather today. Setting the book aside, he made his way to the little cabin on the back hill and showed his grandfather the two enchanted weapons he had forged that day.

Old man Tell was polishing a bow limb beneath the lamplight. He gave the dagger and shield his grandson displayed before him only a cursory glance, nodded, and said, "Not bad."

"Even if you never become a great archmage, at least you can always make a living with this craft."

Joanne had not expected praise from his grandfather to begin with; receiving such an assessment was more than enough to satisfy him.

Old man Tell waved his hand impatiently. "Don't dawdle here—can't you see I'm busy? Go up the back hill and check on Jamie and that big fellow Gray. If there's nothing else, get to bed early."

Joanne acknowledged the order, took his leave of his grandfather, and headed straight for the woods on the back hill. No sooner had he entered the treeline than he heard barking, and Jamie bounded out joyfully to greet him. Gray followed behind the half-winter wolf, a wild boar slung across his shoulder—looked like tonight's hunt had gone well.

Joanne rubbed Jamie's head and exchanged a hug with Gray, then strolled through the woods in the company of the wolf and the beast. Joanne was not much of a talker, but his communication with Jamie and Gray required no words, nor did he need to force himself to discuss topics he cared nothing about to avoid an awkward silence. The warm, wordless understanding between them was a rare pleasure he cherished.

As they neared the little cabin in the woods, Jamie suddenly stopped in his tracks. He sniffed about restlessly, then let out a fierce snarl in the direction of the cabin.

"What is it, Jamie?" Joanne asked, puzzled.

Jamie continued snarling without pause. Gray stepped in front of Joanne, shielding him with his body, and pointed toward the cabin with a low warning: "Mog! Mog!"

Now Joanne understood. Both Jamie and Gray had caught the scent of a stranger—and that uninvited guest was likely lurking inside the cabin at this very moment.

As if startled by the barking, the cabin door creaked slowly open, and a strange figure slipped furtively through the gap, emerging into Joanne's sight.

The moment his eyes fell upon the figure, Joanne drew in a sharp breath, realizing that the great trouble he had been dreading for the past month... had finally come knocking at his door.

Standing before the cabin door was a lizardman clad in a ceremonial robe, clutching a wooden staff, looking very much like a shaman. Yet Joanne quickly noticed that the right arm gripping the staff was wrapped in thick bandages, the white linen stained through with blotches of blood. The gaze fixed upon him was a tangled mix of panic and wariness—more like a fugitive in disarray than a foe who had come deliberately to settle a grudge.

Gray's mind was nowhere near as complicated as Joanne's. The moment he laid eyes on the lizardman appearing before the cabin he now called home, he instantly recalled the lizardman shaman he had killed in the swamp a month ago—the one who had transformed into a crocodile—and the lizardman shaman Chud who had pursued them for revenge. It was precisely to escape the lizardmen's hunt that Gray had been forced to flee his native swamplands alongside Joanne and hide out in the woods behind Derin Town.

Over a month had passed, and the lizardmen had nearly faded from Gray's memory. Now one of them had suddenly appeared at his refuge, shattering the peaceful, contented life he had built. Naturally, Gray took the lizardman before him to be a killer come for vengeance. His fury could not be contained. Clenching his fists, he bellowed at the lizardman.

The lizardman did not seem to expect to encounter a raging gray bag beast in the woods of this human town. A flicker of hesitation crossed his deep green-scaled face. He retreated to the door, staff in hand, trying to slip back into the cabin to avoid the confrontation.

Gray grew even more enraged at the sight. In his simple mind, the cabin belonged to Joanne and his grandfather, and he and Jamie bore the sacred duty of watching over the cabin and the surrounding orchard on their master's behalf. That ugly lizardman dared to occupy the cabin—a crime even more unforgivable than coming to settle a blood feud.

Driven by fury, the gray bag beast charged forward in great strides. The lizardman clearly realized the cabin could not shield him from the enraged monster, and hastily wove a series of spell gestures, chanting a prayer of nature's divine magic. Scorching magical energy surged forth, rapidly coalescing into form.

Joanne initially thought the lizardman shaman was attempting to cast "Produce Flame" or "Flaming Sphere," but he soon recognized that the magic being channeled contained not only fire but also a purer strain of divine power. That meant the spell possessed the dual properties of "flame" and "divine energy"—its destructive power far beyond anything "Produce Flame" or "Flaming Sphere" could compare with.

Joanne had learned a great deal about druidic arts during his time with Kandy's family. Seeing the golden-red radiance, brilliant as morning dawn, gathering in the lizardman shaman's hand and on the verge of being unleashed, he instantly sensed the danger and hurriedly shouted a warning to Gray: "Don't go near him—watch out for 'Flame Strike'!"