Dmitri
Dmitri loved his village. But he didn't love the land itself. A village was, after all, a place where people gathered to live together. Dmitri cherished the memories he'd made with them and loved them all. That's why he'd fought with his life on the line. It was the only way to protect the village.
But not anymore.
He didn't know why this spirit denied breaking down the palisade, but it was different—profoundly different. It wasn't about dignity or power. It wasn't a judgment from his mind; his instincts were screaming it. There was no being in this forest that could defy the spirit before him.
Dmitri trusted his instincts. That's why he'd bowed his head without a moment's hesitation.
"Hmmm..."
The Wendigo sat on the remnants of the palisade—unavoidable given his size—and tapped the debris with his claws. His nose caught Dmitri's emotions: awe, fear, and deep affection.
No way he's fallen for me. Then... family? Or the whole village?
If it were love for him, the man would be shivering like he had bugs crawling on his back. But if the object was something else, that changed everything.
Similar to when I first met Hegilson.
Loving one's hometown or village was easy to say but hard to show through actions. Plenty of people in the world craved a spirit's protection. Who wouldn't want power over life and death? Yet they couldn't, because contracting with a spirit came with immense risks.
"Impressive. Are they so precious you're willing to face your fear?"
"Yes. This village took in an orphan like me, who lost his parents young and could die any day without surprise. How could they not be precious?"
The Wendigo sensed he spoke the truth. In this world, it wasn't easy for an orphaned man to love the village where he grew up so fiercely—enough to risk his life. A single question revealed much about the village.
"Raise your head. I understand your heart. But being taken under my wing means leaving this place. Can you do that?"
"Yes. I've already discussed it with the villagers and received their permission."
"A young chief naturally faces suspicion, yet you have remarkable esteem."
"Pardon? Oh, no. I'm not the chief. Our village is so small, there's no one else to call chief."
As Dmitri lifted his head and spoke, the Wendigo shook his head. No way. Even beasts formed packs and chose leaders.
The Wendigo pointed at Dmitri with a finger. Dmitri looked at him with puzzled eyes.
"You're their chief. Seems like you're the only one who doesn't know it."
"Pardon? No, that can't be. How could I be the chief...?"
Dmitri waved his hands modestly. The word "chief" felt too heavy.
But...
"Hey, Dmitri! If you're not the chief, who is?"
"Dmitri, people don't argue with you for no reason."
"Uh, uh?"
He was definitely the chief. At least, he was the village leader. As the villagers grew excited and shouted one by one, they soon chanted his name in unison.
Was his heart pounding too hard? Tears streamed down Dmitri's face.
The Wendigo silently planted mysticism into the ground. It erupted as a black, sturdy spear infused with his will, which he yanked out in one motion.
"Take this. I recalled how you fought fiercely with your spear from the palisade, so it's a gift."
"Th-this is?!"
As the Wendigo tossed the spear, Dmitri caught it reflexively. His eyes widened at the fresh scent and mysterious energy emanating from it.
"Keep fighting for the people. That's what this gift is for."
"Th-thank you. Thank you!"
Dmitri expressed his gratitude through tears. The Wendigo nodded and stood.
"I'll be off now. Geron, I know you're tired, but I appreciate the hard work."
"Not at all."
Geron smiled in response. As the Wendigo departed, Dmitri's name echoed loudly.
* * *
Hmm, that should have melted their hearts enough. Building my own people is damn tough work.
Was this really the mindset of the being—spirit or whatever—who'd just ignited a man's passionate zeal? The departing Wendigo calmly assessed the village.
It wasn't a loss of humanity or anything like that. It was inevitable for someone in a position of leading people.
Increasing numbers is good, but taking in just anyone invites parasites.
He didn't fully buy that disposition could be changed through effort alone. It formed over long years. The Wendigo wanted his people clean, so tests were necessary.
Fortunately, they'd passed with flying colors.
The de facto leader Dmitri is an upright young man, and the villagers are solid too.
People who repaid favors despite their meager means. They wouldn't cause trouble if integrated. That's why he'd built up goodwill so diligently—and substantially, even by his own standards.
This goodwill would motivate their hard work and weigh down any sly intentions.
The Wendigo organized his thoughts and gazed at the night sky. The world might change, but the moon remained beautiful. He let out a hollow chuckle.
Never imagined I'd be fretting over this stuff.
Evaluating human hearts, no less. And he wasn't even human. Life's unpredictability was what made it fun.
* * *
The village prepared to leave swiftly under Dmitri's orders. Their speed impressed the Wendigo.
"You're handling this better than expected. The mind knows to leave, but the body resists."
"Hahaha, moving is common for forest folk."
For forest people, home was often the forest itself—not out of deep love for the land, but because there was no time to grow attached. When monsters rampaged, they left; when famine struck, they left; when a foul-tempered chief rose in a neighboring tribe, they left...
It made sense why Dmitri had little attachment to the land. It wasn't where he'd been born and raised!
In no time, houses were dismantled, and men and women alike shouldered loads, lining up in orderly rows.
The Wendigo slowly surveyed them. Despite their ragged appearance, they brimmed with vitality. Their clear, pure eyes pleased him most.
"Geron, assign some warriors to Dmitri. Dmitri, leave half your warriors and guide them to the village. Tell my shaman Skadi the situation, and she'll welcome you."
"Spirit, will you be all right without us?"
The Wendigo burst out laughing at Dmitri's question. He hadn't expected concern.
"Who do you think I am? I'm not the type to get beaten around. Don't worry."
Dmitri scratched his head. Fair point.
Honestly, I can't imagine the spirit falling.
Dmitri doubted anything short of heavenly gods could defeat the Wendigo outside that forest. Even an ogre seemed like it'd be cleaved in one stroke.
As two warriors selected by Geron led Dmitri's group toward the village, the Wendigo resumed his march toward the destination.
How far had they pushed through the forest? Ivan approached cautiously and spoke to the Wendigo.
"Um, Wendigo. May I ask one question?"
"I'll answer if I can. Speak."
"If—if my tribe were also requested by you, Wendigo, would you take us in?"
The Wendigo stroked his chin—not pondering, but to avoid seeming too eager.
He'd never seen Ivan's tribe, but he trusted them. What had spurred his actions in the first place?
Ivan's tribe warned of the danger.
Rationally, fleeing was smarter than alerting others. Yet they'd risked it to warn everyone. Surviving a monster horde proved their capability too.
"Ivan, your tribe could have ignored the danger, but you acted for others. Why would I refuse such good people? I'd rather ask you myself."
"Spirit! Sniff!"
As Ivan's eyes reddened, the Wendigo felt awkward. He hadn't expected tears like this.
Ivan's tear glands are way too weak...
"Waaah. Such warm words!"
"I've never seen such benevolence as yours, Spirit!"
"......"
The Wendigo swallowed his bewilderment and eyed the grown men shedding tears like kids with cold indifference. If not for their genuine scent of trust and emotion, he'd have drenched them all.
As Geron guffawed, the Wendigo chided him.
"Geron, stop laughing and calm them down."
"Hohoho. I wondered where Skadi got her eloquence—clearly from you, Spirit."
"What? I never taught Skadi that. I don't have the talent for it."
Geron blinked, then laughed again. The Wendigo felt unjustly accused. What about him screamed "people-charmer" like Skadi? His appearance instilled fear from the first meeting.
These world's folks are just emotional.
Even on the move, the Wendigo soothed them. It backfired, seen as caring attention that only drew more tears from the warriors.
His ordeal ended upon reaching the next village.
"Spirit, the village is in sight."
"Good. Everyone, stop the tears. We can't show a pathetic side to those villagers."
"Yes, sir! We'll show the spirit's dignity with the spirit of bold forest folk!"
"No, that's not... Whatever. Do as you like."
"Yes!!!"
Their response boomed. The Wendigo began wondering if he was the problem.
They say facing Cthulhu or whatever drives people mad. Am I like that? No, they were normal at first.
"Spirit, I'll call the people."
"Good idea. Seeing my face will probably scare them... Hm?"
As the Wendigo agreed with Geron, the palisade gate opened. People emerged, hands raised high to signal no resistance.
"We won't resist! Take what you want, just spare our lives!"
"......"
As the Wendigo fell silent, Geron felt pity. So fearsome in appearance, yet so warm-hearted—suffering misunderstandings over looks.
Geron approached to clear it up. "We're not raiders. Strange things are happening nearby, so we came to warn—"
"Gahk!?"
Geron shut his mouth as the Wendigo's massive arm shot past his face. He cautiously turned to look.
"You. You reek of suspicion."
"Sp-Spirit?"
As thick killing intent washed over him, Geron swallowed dryly.