Chapter 2: Taming the Fireball Part 1

To be honest, the summons from the Taste Pavilion wasn’t something I was too worried about.

‘How serious could a big incident be when it’s coming from a rookie who hasn’t even been here a month?’

After all, a month isn’t nearly enough time to taste the bitterness of the border.

You need at least half a year before you cause a real disaster.

At worst, it might be something like, “A guest’s dog bit my hand!”

‘When something unexpected happens, it always feels more serious than it is… I get it.’

It’s natural for people to lose their ability to respond well under pressure—especially rookies.

She was probably just startled by her first emergency and panicked enough to call me.

And, just as I expected, the emergency at the Taste Pavilion wasn’t that serious.

It was ridiculously serious.

[HELHANAHIN!!!]

FWOOSH—!

“Aaaaah! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

It’s late autumn, just around sunset.

‘So why the hell am I looking at pillars of blue flame shooting into the sky, with fire spirits blazing in front of me?’

A wave of heat hotter than a sauna’s steam room blew through the area, and I noticed the newly paved stone floor, laid just a few days ago, had been scorched black.

Thank the heavens the fire spirits were outside in an open area and not inside the building.

For elemental beings like spirits, who are literally made of raw elements, it’s much safer to conduct assessments outdoors, away from papers and flammable objects.

The problem is… fire spirits usually calm down with just a few logs tossed their way.

‘So why are they glowing blue with rage?’

“…What exactly is going on here?”

Too dumbfounded to keep it in, I turned to the assistant who had escorted us to the Taste Pavilion’s courtyard.

She responded confidently.

“No idea. Those fireballs just started going berserk all of a sudden.”

And saying “no idea” is supposed to make them calm down? If that solved anything, we wouldn’t even be here.

‘Also, “fireballs”? That’s a racial slur. And this woman’s supposed to be an assistant?’

My own assistant, reading my expression, quickly stepped in.

“Perhaps you should go see the Taste Pavilion official. At this rate, she’s going to end up roasted alive.”

Before she even finished speaking, a girl desperately braving the spirits’ fury spotted me from afar and threw her arms into the air.

“Se—Senior Officer!!”

She looked exactly like a lost child reunited with her parents in a crowded market after three hours.

As soon as she saw me, the Pavilion officer darted toward us at a terrifying speed, dodging the raging blue flames.

She clung to the hem of my pants and cried, “Please save me, please save me, please save meee!”

All the dignity of an immigration officer flew out the window as she pleaded like a child.

A strong smell of burning hair wafted through the air.

I glanced down and saw that her hair, already curly from her eastern nomadic background, had puffed up like a bomb had gone off in it.

“Taste Officer. You called for help, so here I am.”

I started with my official statement.

Procedures matter, after all.

“If it’s within my authority, I’ll do my best to assist you. What would you like me to help with?”

“Everything!”

I shut my eyes tight.

A headache surged through me like never before.

“You should be explaining what went wrong and where you’re stuck.”

“Everything? Are you serious?”

She’s definitely getting retrained.

Time to send her back through hellish basic training.

‘First things first, let’s contain this situation.’

I sighed deeply, then unclasped my hands from behind my back and pried the girl off my leg.

“You certainly seem to need a lot of help. So, what exactly did you do?”

The Taste Officer’s wide, sparkly eyes filled with tears.

“W-Well, I—I mean, I didn’t really… I just… There were guests from the North, and I asked the spirits—if they didn’t mind—could they lower the heat a bit…?”

“Huh. And that made them this mad? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Fire spirits are known for their gentle nature toward other races.

One of their nicknames is “Friends by the Hearth,” for crying out loud.

Besides, they’re well aware of how much heat they give off.

They usually dial it down when people are nearby.

“That’s it? You didn’t do anything else that might’ve offended them?”

“Not that I’m aware of… I really didn’t mean to do anything wrong…”

She didn’t look like she was lying.

It was entirely possible she made a mistake without realizing it.

“Then this might be a cultural misunderstanding between species. Did you at least try to talk it out with them?”

“Uh, um… well… I…”

She hesitated, fidgeting and avoiding the question.

“As an immigration officer, did you attempt to communicate respectfully with them?”

She finally mumbled out a reluctant answer.

“T-They don’t speak the common language, so… I couldn’t…”

“Excuse me?”

The answer was so absurd I had to ask again.

“Even if it’s not the common tongue, aren’t there other ways to communicate?”

There are hundreds of languages in this world.

‘What about Elven runes? Ancient hieroglyphs? Even pictogram signage could work in a pinch.’

Spirits can read those too—’you really never thought of that?’

Immigration officers are supposed to be fluent in at least three languages!

Suddenly, she blinked wide-eyed, as if she just realized something.

“Oh! I could’ve done that!”

Oh, good grief.

Stumble

“Senior Officer!”

I nearly collapsed from shock, but my assistant quickly caught me.

“You didn’t even try that, and you had the audacity to summon me—ahem, summon the Central Officer right before closing time?”

I did my best to swallow my anger, but the Taste Officer flinched and curled her shoulders up tight.

“S-Sorry! You were the only person I could think of…”

Just then, the officer’s own assistant cut in from behind her.

“Actually, I did try to communicate with them.”

“Say what?”

“While the officer was panicking, I tried using runes and gestures to talk to those fireballs.”

There it is again—“fireballs.” She says that slur automatically without a second thought.

This is why nomads need to start with basic etiquette training.

But setting that aside for now…

“And? What happened?”

“It was a total failure. They didn’t understand a word of it. I think… they only speak Spirit Tongue.”

My own assistant scowled at the word.

“Spirit Tongue. No wonder communication failed.”

“Ah, damn.”

My expression twisted just like his.

***

Spirit Tongue.

The oldest language in existence—and one that can never be replicated by a human voice, since it’s made entirely of mana.

That explained everything.

I began to recall what the fire spirit had shouted just moments ago.

[HELHANAHIN!!!]

It wasn’t something I heard with my ears—it had struck directly into my mind.

Come to think of it, spirits don’t even have vocal cords.

They’re beings of pure element; of course they wouldn’t.

‘That form they take?’ It’s just fire shaped like a person.

‘Normally, spirits can at least understand the rune language—since it’s a tongue close to mana, much like the language of elves.’

‘If they can’t even understand runes, they must be a pretty ancient species.’

It was clear this was one of those ancient types, the kind that couldn’t communicate even on a basic level.

Only the spirit language would work—this was one of the most difficult types of spirits to deal with.

It was no wonder the culinary officer lacked the experience or sense to handle a situation like this.

She couldn’t even guess why the spirits were angry, which was only natural.

‘At least she had the sense to call me in a hurry. That might’ve been the best move possible.’

With that thought, my irritation eased a little.

There was no point in scolding her further—it wouldn’t change anything.

She already looked pitiful, shaking like a wet rat.

‘Whatever the case, I should talk to the ones actually angry.’

Finally grasping the situation, I relaxed my expression.

“Very well. I’ll take care of this.”

“Huh? Are you sure? They look really mad…”

“That’s obvious to anyone.”

I turned my gaze to the two spirits still blazing blue in the distance.

‘Now then, what do we do?’

Ordinarily, fire spirits take the form of young, beautiful women surrounded by orange flames.

They radiate a gentle warmth and wear soft smiles.

But the two in front of me now had bodies wreathed in blue flames and muscular male forms.

Worse still, they didn’t lower their heat even as hot gusts blew through the area.

Instead, they let pillars of fire burst from above their own heads.

‘Yep. They’re definitely furious.’

In all my years on the job, I’d only seen this sight once.

Seeing it again now brought back vivid memories.

Their stance practically screamed, “We’ll burn this whole place down if we feel like it.”

I had to calm them down—somehow.

Otherwise, those fire pillars might soon turn into a firestorm that would engulf everything.

Spirits are honest to a fault about their emotions.

At that moment, the assistant beside me spoke cautiously.

“Should I call the border guards? If they don’t cooperate, this could get out of hand.”

“No. That won’t be necessary.”

I’d have to be insane to call in those blockheaded brutes.

‘If they showed up, this would absolutely turn into a violent mess—no, a full-on arson case.’

There goes our perfect incident-free record.

“I’ll go first. At least if we talk, there’s a chance to defuse things.”

“Huh? Then… I’ll go too! If I did something wrong, I should at least apologize—”

“No. Just stay here.”

“Ugh…”

She pouted, lips pushed forward as she looked up at me.

“That sulky face won’t work. And honestly, you’d just get in the way if you came along, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-you’re so mean…”

Ignoring the dejected culinary officer, I made my way toward the fire spirits.

As they saw me approach, the two spirits flared their flames even more violently toward the sky.

[Hiraha helhanahin hita!]

—WHOOSH!

A clear sign of discontent.

Their furious roar stirred the air into a scorching gale.

“Urgh!”

“Sir!”

“Don’t come any closer! That’s an order!”

The heat was no joke.

But I couldn’t back down now.

Properly greeting guests is the first and foremost duty of an immigration inspector.

I boldly stepped even closer to the fire spirits—close enough that they looked ready to incinerate me on the spot.

And finally, with just one step between us, we stood face to face.

The unrestrained heat had me drenched in sweat despite it being late autumn.

But I didn’t wipe the sweat away.

Showing discomfort from heat in front of a fire spirit was poor manners.

Instead, I adjusted my clothes and cleared my throat slowly.

“Hmm, ahem!”

I focused all my attention and steadied my breathing.

“Fuuuu…”

Gradually, energy began gathering in my throat—specifically, around my vocal cords.

That familiar sensation.

A strange, tingling feeling like something alien was scraping against my vocal cords.

“Ssshh…”

I took a deep breath.

And then, standing between the two raging pillars of fire, I opened my mouth.

***

Meanwhile, the culinary officer left behind was nearly in tears.

“W-what do we do!? He’s in danger!”

Spirits are usually calm and gentle, but once their temper flares, they become extremely dangerous.

They’re literal embodiments of elemental forces—so their wrath often leads to full-blown natural disasters.

And now her own incompetence had led her direct superior to face such spirits alone.

She wanted to rush over and throw herself between them, beg the spirits to be mad at her instead.

But the chief inspector’s assistant had a completely relaxed expression as he held her by the shoulders.

“Yes, I can see him just fine.”

“How is that reassuring!? He can’t even talk to them! We have to call the border guards!”

“Ah, you must be new to your post. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

“You’re not worried at all? What if he gets roasted?! What about the funeral?!”

“I’m sure someone would handle that. But it won’t come to that.”

“But…!”

As she continued imagining the worst possible outcomes, the assistant calmly shook his head.

“Culinary Officer. Do you know how the chief inspector went from regular immigration staff to becoming the South Border’s head in just four years?”

“Because… he’s really good at his job?”

“Right?”

“That’s true. But there’s another reason. Something only he has.”

“Something only he has?”

The assistant smiled faintly.

“He’s one of just ten people on the entire continent born with a special gift—he’s a Talent Bearer. He can speak every language in existence.”

“Wait, what?”

The culinary officer’s eyes widened in shock as she stared at the chief inspector.

“Even if the language isn’t meant to be spoken by humans.”

At that exact moment, the chief inspector finally spoke from afar.

[Ihala haiho henha harahin Nathan Kell!]

(= “Greetings. I am Nathan Kell, your immigration inspector!”)

The air around them rippled.

A surge of magical energy—something no human voice should be able to produce—echoed through the clearing.