An irregular and A Barbarian
I stare at the hologram.
Then I stare at it again.
And again.
My mind goes completely blank for a few seconds.
'…How?'
That's the first thought that comes to my mind.
How can a single person have affinities with this many elements?
In the novel, it was clearly stated that most people only have affinity with two or three elements at most.
Even god-gifted individuals usually have one dominant element, sometimes two if they're exceptional.
Having multiple affinities isn't even considered a good thing most of the time.
Especially when most of them are low or lowest.
Affinity doesn't just mean compatibility.
It means time and effort.
It means how difficult it is to master an element.
Someone with high affinity can learn faster and use less mana.
Someone without affinity can still learn, but the time and difficulty increase drastically.
And even then, a person can only truly master two or three elements at most.
So why do I have affinity with so many?
Even worse, why do I have affinity with both light and dark?
Light represents holy power.
Healing, purification, protection.
It can also be used offensively, like the low-level light scrolls I bought earlier.
Dark, on the other hand, represents death.
Curses, decay, forbidden magic.
Usually associated with dark mages and taboo practices.
Having both already feels contradictory.
But then—
My eyes stop at something else.
Time.
Gravity.
Both marked as undetectable.
My throat goes dry.
'Who wouldn't want that…?'
Even someone who barely knows fantasy understands how terrifying those elements are.
Time manipulation.
Gravity control.
Those are abilities people dream about.
'It says undetectable… but shouldn't it at least be lowest?'
Why isn't it even measurable?
At that moment, something clicks in my head.
I finally understand how this body got admitted into the academy.
Even if all my affinities are low or lowest, the sheer number of them—and the presence of conceptual elements—might have been enough.
Maybe the academy saw potential.
Or maybe they saw something they didn't fully understand.
The thought makes a shiver run down my spine.
'Is that really the reason?'
If that was the case, shouldn't I have been admitted as a special student?
But there was nothing like that mentioned in the acceptance letter.
It was just a normal admission.
Pushing those thoughts aside, along with the strange excitement bubbling inside me, I focus on the hologram again.
Then I notice something new.
Some question marks and gibberish.
Something even the artifact can't identify.
For a brief moment, I seriously consider whether risking my life for this artifact was worth it at all.
"…Sigh."
I let out a tired breath and press the next option.
Aura Level.
'Maybe I don't have aura at all.'
It's a reasonable assumption.
People who possess both mana and aura in the same body are extremely rare.
They're usually called irregulars.
And judging by my physical state, I shouldn't have aura in the first place.
But once again, reality refuses to follow my expectations.
----- Aura Level -----
→ Aura Quantity : Lowest
→ Aura Control : Unstable
→ Aura Quality : Undetectable
[ Ranking Order (Low → High)
Lowest → Low → Mid → High → Highest → Incomparable → ••• ]
I just stare at the result.
It's the same.
Exactly the same as my magic capacity.
Now I'm genuinely confused.
'What the hell is this body?'
Nothing about it makes sense.
I have multiple elemental affinities, but almost no mana.
I have aura, but my physical state is terrible.
It feels lucky and unlucky at the same time.
Like fate itself is mocking me.
Looking at all this information together, I start feeling lost.
I don't know what path I'm supposed to take in the future.
I'm not a genius.
I can't just improve everything at once.
That would be imp—
My thoughts stop.
'…Wait.'
I frown slightly.
'Can I?'
I suddenly remember something.
Novel knowledge.
Shortcuts.
Methods that shouldn't be possible under normal circumstances.
And changing the future means doing things that aren't supposed to be doable in the first place.
Things that go beyond common sense.
Things that could be called heaven-defying.
But—
'Can I really do it?'
The question surfaces naturally.
And almost immediately, I know the answer.
'I have to.'
There's no other choice.
After making that resolve, I shift my focus back to the artifact.
Like I said before, it can increase abilities I already possess.
But only in a specific way.
And only once.
'I need to go west.'
The place where this artifact originally came from.
In the novel, the character who obtained this artifact only discovered its true function much later.
Besides acting as an interface, it can raise one of the user's abilities by two to three tiers.
But it requires a massive power source.
And that power source exists in the west.
'I should go there after the first semester.'
During the first break.
I slowly close the interface.
The path ahead is unclear.
But one thing is certain.
Whatever I am—
"I'm really an irregular."
***
Northern Territory.
Hamilton Mountain.
Snow covered everything.
The ground beneath was buried under thick white layers that had hardened over time.
Cold wind swept across the mountain slopes, carrying with it the sharp bite of winter that seeped through skin and bone alike.
A man was walking through it.
He was tall.
No—tall wasn't enough to describe him properly.
He was massive.
His body was built like a fortress of flesh and muscle, broad shoulders stretching the thick fur cloak draped over him.
His arms thick enough that even layered leather armor looked tight around them.
His steps were steady and heavy, yet strangely calm, as if the biting cold and harsh terrain meant nothing to him.
His name was Ragnar Stonevein.
A barbarian born in the far north.
Among the northern tribes, Ragnar was known as a hunter, a warrior, and someone who relied purely on his own body rather than tricks, spells, or tools beyond what he could carry.
He had grown up wrestling beasts larger than himself, fighting in blizzards where visibility barely stretched an arm's length, and surviving winters that killed weaker men without mercy.
Magic was rare among his people.
And even when it existed, it was not respected.
Only Strength was.
Ragnar was currently heading toward Valoria, though his confidence in that direction was… questionable at best.
He pauses.
His sharp eyes lock onto something ahead.
A polar bear stands in his path.
At first glance, it looks familiar.
Then Ragnar narrows his eyes slightly.
This one is wrong.
It is far larger than any normal polar bear.
It's s body towering high enough that even Ragnar would barely reach its chest.
Thick white fur is matted with frost, and its breath pours from its mouth in heavy clouds, each exhale sounding more like a growl than simple breathing.
A monster.
The beast lowers its head and roars, the sound echoing across the snowy terrain.
Ragnar cracks his neck once.
Then he smiles.
The monster charges.
The ground trembles as it rushes forward, snow exploding beneath its massive paws.
Ragnar doesn't dodge immediately. Instead, he plants his feet firmly into the snow, bending his knees slightly as his muscles tense.
At the last moment, he steps forward.
The polar bear swings a massive claw down toward him, powerful enough to crush stone.
Ragnar raises his arm.
Not to block.
But to grab.
His hand clamps around the monster's forearm.
Fingers digging deep into muscle and bone.
The impact sends a shock through his body, but he doesn't retreat.
Instead, he twists his torso violently, using the beast's own momentum against it.
With a roar of his own, Ragnar slams his shoulder into the monster's chest.
Bone cracks.
The polar bear like monster stumbles back, confused and enraged.
Before it can recover, Ragnar rushes forward again.
His fist drives straight into the monster's jaw, snapping its head sideways.
Snow sprays as the beast crashes into the ground.
It tries to rise.
But It doesn't get the chance.
Ragnar grips its neck with both hands, veins bulging along his arms as he tightens his hold.
The monster thrashes, claws scraping uselessly against his armor, but Ragnar doesn't loosen his grip.
With a final twist and a brutal surge of strength, he snaps its neck.
The mountain falls silent.
Ragnar exhales slowly and steps back.
"Hm..."
He mutters, looking down at the corpse.
"This should be enough for dinner."
He doesn't waste time.
Pulling out a thick rope from his pack, he ties it around the monster's body with practiced ease.
With a grunt, he hoists the massive corpse onto his back, muscles flexing as he adjusts the weight.
Then he continues walking.
After some time passes, the terrain changes.
The mountain slope eases, and wooden structures begin to appear in the distance.
A rural village.
As Ragnar approaches, the villagers notice him.
And panic erupts.
Shouts ring out as people scramble inside their homes.
Doors slam shut. Children cry.
A few brave—or foolish—men grab farming tools and pitchforks, forming a shaky line near the entrance of the village.
Their fear isn't directed at Ragnar himself.
It's at what he's carrying.
A massive monster corpse strapped to his back.
"Monster!"
"An attack!"
"Run!"
Ragnar stops walking and raises an eyebrow.
"…Huh."
He slowly lifts one hand, palm open, showing he has no intention of fighting to the death with a village full of farmers.
"It's already dead."
He calls out, his deep voice carrying easily through the cold air.
"You can relax."
The villagers hesitate.
After several tense moments, one of the elders cautiously steps forward, peering at the corpse before looking up at Ragnar's face.
"…You killed that?"
The man asks, disbelief clear in his voice.
Ragnar nods.
"It tried to eat me."
That explanation doesn't help much.
Still, seeing that the monster truly isn't moving, the villagers slowly calm down.
Weapons lower.
Doors open slightly.
Ragnar adjusts the rope on his shoulder and looks around.
"Can you tell me the way to Valoria?"
The villagers exchange glances.
Then the elder coughs awkwardly.
"…You're heading the wrong way."
"Valoria is south from here."
Ragnar freezes.
He looks behind him.
Then he looks ahead.
Then he lets out a long sigh and mutter.
"…Again?"
Scratching the back of his head, Ragnar turns around slowly.
"So I lost my way again."
He says to himself, sounding more resigned than surprised.
The villagers watch as the massive barbarian, monster still strapped to his back, starts walking off in the opposite direction—leaving behind a village that will be talking about this day for years to come.
