The blessing of a good party comes from each member fulfilling their duties in their proper positions.

From that perspective, our hastily assembled Spirit's Blessing expedition was actually quite a well-balanced party.

For dungeon exploration, we might have been lacking in both front and rear positions, but this journey's main challenge was the travel itself rather than combat.

The vanguard consisted of our guide and scout, while the rear had our supply manager mage and expedition leader (who did nothing) doubling as a guard—a perfectly balanced combination.

But here came a complication.

The mage started a conversation with the druid guide.

How should we rearrange our formation?

Maintaining the current formation while talking wasn't an option.

The best way to converse is face-to-face.

The second best (and second worst) is standing side by side.

Standing in a line while having a long conversation is the absolute worst.

There could be many solutions.

We could stretch out the formation into a column.

Or place the mage in the center of the vanguard with the scouts spread wide.

Among these options, we chose:

"I-I'm wobbling!"

"Don't be so tense. If you can't hold yourself up with your legs, just lie down flat."

Creating a mage riding a druid.

Should I think of this as a grandmother giving her granddaughter a piggyback ride?

That would be a bit... surreal.

Elysia's slender four legs moved steadily, and with each step, my body wobbled precariously.

Both Onyxia walking alongside us and our protagonist following behind were enjoying the spectacle of a squirrel riding a reindeer.

The reindeer Elysia had transformed into was smaller than I'd expected.

Strange. I was sure they were as big as adult men. Maybe I was thinking of elks or moose?

Roughly one meter tall?

Or perhaps a bit taller.

This should be manageable!

I, Hazel—

A professional rider who has mounted a 1.8m beast (species: human).

This height should be easy...!

That assumption was my downfall.

It wobbles.

It wobbles tremendously.

I expected up and down movement, but I never imagined it would shake so wildly in all directions.

Elysia was doing her best not to move too erratically, but sometimes consideration alone isn't enough.

Even with my thighs clenched tight, the world kept shaking. How did ancient cavalry even exist without saddles or stirrups?

I admit it!

Stirrups were the greatest invention of ancient times!

Right now, I'd build a secret base just to confess this truth!

My stomach felt queasy and the back of my head tingled—motion sickness was setting in.

"What was I asking about? Ah yes, sorcerers..."

Elysia's voice sounded cheerful, as if she was enjoying this situation. It felt awkward to ask to get down now.

I had no choice but to lie flat on her back and close my eyes.

Her somewhat stiff fur tickled my face.

"Sorcerers are those who can innately handle Arcane spells. Unlike wizards..."

Strangely, I could understand the meaning of the animal sounds Elysia was making as she began her explanation.

◆

Actually, I wasn't completely ignorant about sorcerers.

Meredith had reluctantly taught me about them, making the information stick in my memory.

Sorcerer.

A talent-blessed individual who can use spells innately.

According to Meredith, they lack ambition, don't bother learning new spells, and are basically reusable spell scrolls who only use the magic they already know.

As one might guess from that reaction, wizards and sorcerers have a sort of rivalry.

Sorcerers gain their abilities through innate factors like mixed blood from elementals, demons, angels, gods, or dragons, or through blessings or curses.

Wizards gain their abilities through endless study and research.

The two groups compete, quarrel, and stimulate each other's development. Sometimes it escalates to bloodshed... but progress comes with a price, they say.

At first glance, it seems like a battle between talent and effort, but apparently that's not really the case.

Learning spells is also a talent.

Sorcerers don't choose not to learn spells—they can't learn them.

So sorcerers thoroughly hone the spells that chance has granted them, becoming specialists in those specific spells.

Isn't that just like wizards who focus on their chosen school?

I asked that question thoughtlessly once and received a sharp glare from Meredith.

"Hazel, would you like to repeat that?"

Even thinking about it now gives me chills.

Wizards, the Academy, and the School of Evocation.

These three are Meredith's sacred territory.

Touch them and she'll glare at you like she could incinerate you with her eyes alone. It won't be on any test, but it's helpful for life.

Naturally, sorcerers occupied very little space in Meredith's wizard-focused lectures.

That's why Elysia's story was so refreshing.

"Many sorcerers overlook this because they awaken to magic through bloodlines, but the essential qualification of a sorcerer isn't lineage—it's becoming aware of how to handle the flow."

"So even without supernatural ancestors, one can become a sorcerer?"

"That's right. You seem interested in this story?"

Elysia's voice rose excitedly at my first genuine question rather than simple acknowledgment.

I'm sorry.

I actually knew most of what you were saying before, so I wasn't listening carefully.

I must have let her talk too much on her own. I didn't expect such delight from a single question... I should respond more actively.

"Yes, the Arch-Sorcerer Embera. She was a pure-blooded elf who didn't receive the love of elementals. She completely defied the commonly known conditions for becoming a sorcerer."

"Then how did she become an Arch-Sorcerer?"

This question came from genuine curiosity.

You know yourself best.

I am both a wizard and a sorcerer.

But I didn't become a sorcerer through the blessing of an old tree spirit. The spirit merely awakened a talent I hadn't noticed—the potential to become a sorcerer had been dormant within Hazel all along.

However, I had no way of knowing why such talent was hidden inside me.

Was I influenced by lightning, storm spirits, or dragons?

If so, there were no outward signs.

According to what Elysia just said, sorcerers influenced by supernatural beings show physical traits of those beings.

For example, sorcerers influenced by dragons might develop scales on their skin or elongated pupils—visible characteristics.

Considering this, Hazel likely had neither supernatural lineage nor influence.

That's why I was so curious about the Arch-Sorcerer's circumstances.

Perhaps I could find clues in her story.

The thought filled me with anticipation.

How did she qualify as a sorcerer?

Was it some hidden Easter egg in the world, like a rare encounter or hidden piece?

In contrast to my excited state, Elysia didn't answer immediately, as if carefully choosing her words.

After hesitating briefly, the reindeer exhaled a strong breath through her nose, and finally she spoke.

"Before Embera was born, her homeland burned."

What came from her mouth was truly shocking.

◆

I immediately understood why she had chosen her words so carefully.

She must have thought the story in its raw form would exceed a PG rating.

Stripped of the fairy tale packaging she'd added to make it suitable for a child, the story was as follows:

Embera.

While she was still in her mother's womb.

A great fire broke out in the village where her parents lived.

The flames rose instantly, growing larger as they devoured the forest and its inhabitants.

Flowers, grass, and trees.

Small animals and large predators.

And the elves who lived there.

Elves from neighboring villages rushed to help extinguish the fire, but most residents had already perished.

It was such a catastrophe that finding a recognizable corpse rather than just ashes was considered fortunate.

Embera's parents couldn't escape the flames either.

But even in such places, miracles can bloom.

The belly of someone who had died horribly, their skin melted away, began to move. Seeing this, the elves used every resource to save the child from death.

If not for a cleric who happened to be nearby, the child would not have survived.

A single life shining amidst countless deaths.

The fairies called her a flower blooming in fire.

That child was Embera.

Was it fate's trick?

The child born in a village reduced to charcoal was imbued with the power of fire—an overwhelming talent for sorcery unlike anyone before her.

She developed her talents as a sorcerer by mastering the same flames that had consumed her clan and parents.

Whether this weighed on her conscience or not, she discarded the name others had given her and chose a new one for herself.

The fairy of embers that hadn't fully burned in the inferno.

Embera.

She grew in power and eventually killed the dragon that had burned her village.

To honor this achievement, her warrior companion received the title DragonSlayer.

And Embera was named ArchSorcerer.

It was an interesting heroic tale, but my mind was fixated on the beginning—how Embera gained her sorcerous talent.

A third path, neither bloodline nor influence: a child born amid pure elemental violence.

Embera, who had no connection to supernatural beings, became a sorcerer by being born in a fiery pit.

...Then what about Hazel?

What about me, who awakened as a lightning sorcerer despite having no trace of supernatural elements?

What happened to Hazel... to me?

It was an unexpected development.

I truly felt as if struck by lightning.