I Became a Shaman in a Fantasy World - Chapter 31



Only Noblemtl

#31 The best race in terms of appearance (1)

My whole body hurts.

My eyelids are burning and I feel like I’m going to go to hell if I open my eyes.

It was a backlash that was incomparable to last time.

I moved my arm slightly.

rustle –

“….?”

What does this mean?

Something was touching my body.

It was soft and moist.

I moved the other arm again.

rustle –

The scent slowly penetrated my nostrils.

It had a strong floral scent.

I was trying to feel something with my eyes, but I soon gave up.

My head was pounding as if I had a hangover.

“….”

There was no voice at all.

A rumbling sound from the side pierced into my ears.

But only my head hurts.

I couldn’t even hear clearly what was being said.

His entire body was covered in wounds and he was in such a mess that you would believe he was seriously ill.

I feel a desperate need to train this body.

Given the deeds of the necromancers, it’s clear that this won’t be the end, but it’s not like we can just faint every time.

The problem is the eyes.

It’s only natural that you’d vomit blood after being hit with a bullet.

But it bothered me that I shed tears of blood twice in a row.

The reaction was also the one that lasted the longest···.

I fell asleep as I felt the surroundings growing increasingly noisy.

***

Beneath the World Tree with its wide-spreading branches.

The most sacred place for elves.

There, lying on a bed of neatly piled grass and flowers, was Chris.

“It’s already the third day.”

Paramon, who had been looking at Chris with concern, uncrossed his arms.

His gaze was directed towards the elves who were moving busily.

“I don’t know much about it, but you have to put some effort into your food.”

I’ve been watching Chris closely as he prays for something.

When praying for the happiness of the living and the dead, food was always prepared with such devotion.

Paramon, who was rubbing the hardened calluses on his hands, stopped moving his fingers.

The altar that Chris had been building came to mind.

A view of candles lit on both sides of the food.

Chris, sitting in front of him, would pray earnestly to God.

“I think it would be a good idea to light the candles. Please put one candle on each side of the food.”

After hearing Paramon’s words, one of the elves raised his hand with the greatest reverence.

It wasn’t just the elf.

The gestures of all the elves here were reverent.

They saw it clearly with their own two eyes.

Chris is seen coughing up blood while absorbing the unidentified thing in the World Tree with his whole body.

Also, I saw the sight of the evil being that dared to imitate the World Tree being destroyed.

Chris is a human who sacrificed his body for the World Tree, the god of the elves.

“Is this okay?”

“That’s not it.”

The answer came not from Paramon, but from Clocell, who was standing next to him.

“If I remember correctly, the red foods were on the right. I don’t know why, but you have to cut off only the top part of the fruit.”

“If it helps you, Chris, then I don’t need a reason.”

After hearing Clocell’s words, the elves took out their daggers and began cutting off the top of the fruit.

As instructed, the red flesh was placed on the right and the white flesh was placed on the left.

Is it because there are a lot of people?

As the elves moved a few times, food quickly began to pile up.

Paramon’s head moved up and down in satisfaction.

A table set up that was quite similar to what Chris had been making.

“Roselle, do you remember what came next?”

“I need to put some alcohol on the table.”

“Ah, so that’s what it was.”

The elf who had been quietly listening to their conversation from afar suddenly disappeared somewhere and then came back.

In his hand he held a glass vial sloshing with clear liquid.

“Wow, I get to see this precious liquor.”

It was the highest quality silk, made in a way only elves could make.

This liquor, called ‘Whisper of the Trees’, was a precious liquor that would make drinkers drool.

Judging by the transparent color, it was definitely the best among them.

The elf who brought the wine carefully lifted the bottle.

“Where should I put this liquor?”

Paramon’s hand, which had been rubbing the calluses, stopped again.

Paramon was going back in time.

Chris’s actions when he offered alcohol at the cemetery in the Aster territory and at the shrine.

Paramon nodded twice.

“The alcohol has to be served in a special way. Chris used to do it this way all the time.”

“Are you saying there is a special method?”

“They say the more people who do it, the better. I’ll show you first, so everyone follow along. Do you have any glasses?”

Paramon’s attitude toward asking the elf for a drink was also pious.

Chris always said.

They say that everything is about the mind and attitude.

It was said that only then would the things you wish for find their proper direction.

“Ahem.”

Paramon stood in front of the table, clearing his throat and straightening his posture.

Uruk.

A drink that is poured into a glass with a clinking sound.

Paramon’s forehead furrowed slightly.

I couldn’t remember which direction it was.

“Roselle, was it the left? I think it might have been the right.”

“He said direction doesn’t matter.”

“Ah, I remember.”

Paramon closed his eyes tightly and collected his thoughts.

I hope Chris’s body gets better as if it was washed clean.

May this young man, who takes on all kinds of sorrow while comforting the dead, find happiness.

May the bad feelings contained in the curse not taint this young man.

The glass slowly spun in a circle.

One lap.

Two wheels.

Only after the elaborate gesture was completed was the glass placed on the table.

Paramon, who had raised his body, turned his head towards Clocell.

“Wasn’t there something called a “temple”?”

“I used to do that all the time after pouring a drink.”

Paramon was lost in thought for a moment.

It was a strange behavior that I couldn’t explain.

The act of kneeling with both knees together and bowing the head.

In some ways, it may be a shameful act for a knight.

But when Chris did his thing, it didn’t seem to matter.

Because it was an attitude that seemed infinitely humble and sacred.

Perhaps that pious gesture is one of the important elements that make up this ritual.

“I think that would be a good idea.”

“I think so too. Chris’s consciousness has a mysterious corner, so wouldn’t bowing be a meaningful act?”

Paramon was confident.

He is no less than a sword master.

For him, who could even briefly watch and imitate high-difficulty swordsmanship, such movements were not difficult.

Paramon opened his mouth as he looked at the elves.

“This is an act called bowing. It’s one of the procedures that Chris always paid attention to. I’ll show you how to do it this time, so everyone, follow along.”

The demonstration that Paramon showed was a perfect example of the bow itself.

Steadfast movements and overflowing dignity.

The posture, which was imbued with the spirit of the knight, was enough to elicit admiration.

Paramon bowed once and stood up, then paused for a moment.

The number of bows Chris did varied each time, but he usually did them twice.

Didn’t swordsmanship originally use the most basic movements?

Since bowing is done twice, it is probably the most common thing to do.

Paramon moved his body again and bowed.

With best wishes for Chris’s speedy recovery.

“You can do this and then step back.”

Paramon and Clocell’s eyes met each other with joy.

Even Chris would say that the progress was excellent.

I just copied what he was doing.

Even if they aren’t shamans, wouldn’t it be somewhat effective?

The elf who saw Paramon’s demonstration said.

“Are you praying to the World Tree?”

“If you pray, you might be able to reach the World Tree. That’s why the table is set up facing the direction of the World Tree. Wouldn’t the effect be greater if Chris lies in the middle?”

The elf nodded in agreement.

It was a fairly persuasive statement.

If it’s the World Tree, I’ll definitely listen to it.

It seemed like their origin would go through Chris and into the World Tree.

“Chris, you perform a mysterious ritual.”

Paramon answered solemnly.

“In this ritual, the heart is the most important.”

There were a large number of elves gathered around.

Even if we all have small hearts, if we all gather together, the amount will be enormous.

“But if we pour drinks for everyone, there won’t be enough.”

You won’t need more than one or two glasses.

There wasn’t enough room at the table to fit them all.

At that moment, an elf with a beautiful face stepped forward.

“Since you said the heart is important, how about we offer some flowers that we grew ourselves?”

“Hoo…!”

“That’s a good idea.”

Positive responses poured in from all over.

Since these are flowers that are raised with great care, no matter where you put your heart and soul into them, they will never be lacking.

It was a common thought among all elves.

“Let’s do it right now. There’s not enough space, so everyone should bring what they need.”

A procession of elves followed, each picking a flower.

The line in front of the well-prepared table stretched on forever.

As the flowers piled up and there was no more room, the remaining flowers were placed around Chris.

As the order of things passed one by one, a flower garden was born near Chris.

There was a little movement.

rustle –

“…..hmm?”

“…Chris?”

Silence fell as everyone fell silent.

It was definitely the sound of Chris moving.

Suddenly, Chris’ other arm twitched.

rustle –

The elves’ eyes grew wide and radiated clear light.

“It’s…effective!”

“Chris is regaining consciousness!”

“Quick, pick some more flowers!”