Chapter 97
The ice boat carrying Cyril and the others continued sliding across the snowfield for some time even after descending Mount Karug.
Ashelpike apparently could make the boat slide even across level ground, as long as the part facing the snow was in contact with it. It was an extremely convenient ability, but the drawback was the terrible rocking.
Cyril clenched his teeth to keep from biting his tongue, gripping Raul's clothes with his right hand and Monica's with his left as he endured the rocking.
The two active members of the Seven Sages were unconscious in a peaceful sleep enviable enough to make one a little jealous.
If possible, Cyril would have liked to pass out too, but if he collapsed here, it was obvious that all three of them would be thrown off the boat together.
Raul was the heavy one, though. Half leaning against Cyril's back in unconsciousness, Raul possessed a splendidly muscular physique despite his delicate, beautiful features.
Since that muscular man had lost consciousness and was leaning against him, slender Cyril was on the verge of being crushed.
Cyril was currently holding Monica close with his left arm, so if things went badly, Monica could be crushed between Cyril and Raul.
As he strained every muscle in his body, gnashing his teeth and groaning, the boat suddenly came to a stop.
Monica was safe, held close to him, but Raul, who had been leaning against Cyril's back, slid off and slammed his face into the bottom of the boat.
"Gah!"
Raul cried out after hitting his face on the bottom of the boat, and Melissa shouted at Ashelpike, who was sitting at the front of the boat.
"Hey! If you're going to stop, say so!"
"Ran out of mana."
Ashelpike answered Melissa's angry shout matter-of-factly.
Ashelpike had already expended a considerable amount of mana. They had only been able to push themselves this far because they had been on Mount Karug, where mana was highly concentrated. Now that they were off the mountain, it would be unreasonable to push them any further.
Fortunately, the city of Yauschka was already close enough to see. From here, walking would be the sensible way to travel.
"That was fun."
Toure was about the only one cheerfully voicing such a peaceful impression.
Cyril took another look at Toure and Ashelpike.
Both had disguised themselves as humans quite successfully, but Toure's clothes were obviously inappropriate for the season, while Ashelpike's arms and legs were dangling, nearly torn off.
Entering the city like this would be somewhat problematic.
"Ashelpike, those arms and legs of yours... um, how do we fix them?"
Feeling somewhat guilty for having made them push themselves this far, Cyril asked, and Ashelpike replied, "They'll heal eventually," as if it were nothing important.
At those words, Melissa folded her arms and narrowed her eyes.
"A higher spirit like you can transform into an animal or something, right? It'd be silly to waste money on an inn, so it'd be safer to change forms before we enter the city... Come to think of it, what about dragons?"
"I can. I can transform into any creature I've swallowed whole and 'taken in.'"
Cyril made a bitter face at Toure's mild answer.
He had only just learned firsthand exactly what the dragon meant by "take in."
Apparently, a dragon could take in a living creature by swallowing it whole while it was unconscious.
Cyril once again stared closely at Toure's figure.
A young man with silver hair and golden eyes, dressed in the clothing of the 〈Haila People〉.
"Is that form, too... something you took in?"
At Cyril's questioning words, Toure narrowed their eyes nostalgically, as if reminiscing about the past.
"Long, long ago, the 〈Haila People〉 had a custom of offering sacrifices to their god... a dragon. I never did anything to the sacrifices, though."
Toure had rarely even appeared before humans in the first place. They hadn't visited the temple all that often, either.
The people offered as sacrifices to the temple apparently each left the mountain as they pleased and set off on journeys instead of returning to their villages.
"But one day, a rather unusual human came as a sacrifice."
That human was afflicted with a serious illness, had not even the strength to descend the mountain, and had only a few days left to live.
That was why, apparently, he volunteered to become a sacrifice.
"He told me... 'If this feeble, useless body of mine, which people have always called sickly and worthless, can become nourishment for a god, I can think of no greater happiness.'"
Saying that, the silver-haired young man lost consciousness.
It was obvious that his life was nearly spent. Thus, the White Dragon granted the human's wish.
The White Dragon swallowed the young man and took him in.
"I didn't really understand what humans meant by 'god,' but he wanted to be eaten by me. So I ate him. This happened before I met Pique."
Toure's face was peaceful as they spoke, and they even wore a gentle smile.
There was no guilt over having ended a human life. They had simply eaten him because he had asked them to... nothing more.
Cyril once again realized it: dragons were creatures whose values differed from those of humans.
"From now on, I won't let you eat humans, all right?"
"Okay, got it."
When Cyril said this sternly, Toure nodded obediently like a well-behaved child.
Uneasy at that childlike innocence, Cyril secretly vowed to teach Toure human values properly from now on.
He did not know whether imposing human values on a dragon was truly good for the dragon.
Just as the culture of human sacrifice had died out, human values, too, changed with the times.
(And yet, mutual understanding is necessary if we are to coexist.)
Cyril himself had decided to look after Toure.
That was precisely why he had to face the differences in their values and the nature of dragons head-on.
As the serious-minded Cyril told himself this, Raul, who had been rubbing the forehead he had struck against the bottom of the boat, cut in.
"So, Toure, what can you disguise yourself as besides a human? Can you do bugs, too?"
"Um, the thing I swallowed whole before was... Oh, that one might be small and good."
As Toure murmured this, they closed their eyes. Immediately, white light enveloped Toure from head to toe.
Before long, the light contracted and shrank, then vanished as though brushing away a layer of powdery snow.
What emerged beneath the white light glittered with silver scales and began to flop across the snow—flop, flop, flop.
...A fish.
"Why did you choose a fish—?! W-water! Water...!"
As Cyril panicked and began chanting a spell to create water, Raul cut him off in a rush.
"Hey, Cyril. Is this fish a freshwater fish or a saltwater fish? Which is it?"
"I-I don't know... Toure, are you a freshwater fish right now?! Or a saltwater fish?! Which is it?!"
Toure seemed to be trying to reply, but the fish's mouth only opened and closed without producing any words.
All he had to do was tell Toure to take human form, but Cyril, panicking, failed to realize this.
Two grown men stood in a panic before a fish flopping across the snowfield.
As Melissa watched this ridiculous spectacle, she asked Ashelpike:
"Hey, what do dragons breathe with? Lungs? Gills?"
"I don't know. Spirits imitate breathing, but they don't need it to stay alive. Toure is probably the same."
Cyril and Raul stopped moving and stared at Toure (the fish).
The silver fish that had been flopping around was once again enveloped in white light, and its shape changed.
The white light scattered in wisps, revealing a white weasel.
The weasel looked up at Cyril, its thin whiskers twitching.
"Oh, right. Fish can't walk on land. Is this better?"
The weasel's voice was the same as Toure's when they took human form.
Cyril seriously wondered what logic allowed Toure to speak human language as a weasel but not as a fish, then muttered in exhaustion:
"...Just use that form from the start."
Cyril crouched down where he stood and let out a deep breath, and the white weasel leaped onto his shoulder.
The sensation of its fluffy fur tickling his neck and cheek wasn't unpleasant.
Something suddenly occurred to Cyril, and he asked:
"Is the White Dragon's coloring always white or silver, no matter what form they take?"
"No. I'm only copying the color of the creature I took in."
In other words, Toure had happened to take in a silver-haired human, a silver-scaled fish, and a white weasel.
If the human Toure had taken in had black hair, Toure would have assumed the form of a black-haired human.
"Only my eye color never changes, no matter what I take in. Eyes are a creature's essence."
As Cyril murmured, "I see," he stared intently at the weasel on his shoulder.
The weasel stared back at Cyril with round golden eyes and tilted its small head to one side.
"What's wrong?"
"...No, it's just..."
"Yes?"
Cyril cleared his throat, looking slightly awkward, and asked Toure in a low voice.
"...May I pet you?"
"Go ahead?"
Cyril gently stroked Toure's fur, perched on his shoulder, with his fingertips.
The fur beneath his fingertips was fluffy and soft.
As Cyril savored the joy of that sensation, Raul laughed and said, "Good for you, Cyril."