Gasp! Why, Why Are You Doing This?!
"Gurk! Why, why are you doing this?!"
"Shut up. The others might not know, but you can't fool me."
The Wendigo choking the young man's throat looked like the devil incarnate. Far from loosening his grip, as he tightened it even more, Geron cautiously drew his sword. It wasn't out of fear of the Wendigo. Geron trusted him completely—that was why he drew his blade. This wasn't the kind of thing he did without reason.
Has Lord Wendigo seen right through that young man?
As someone who followed the Wendigo like a butler, Geron knew full well about his ability to peer into people's pasts (or more precisely, sniff them out). At Geron's gesture, the warriors accompanying the Wendigo raised their weapons. It was an action born of faith.
"Geron, shouldn't we stop the spirit lord? He looks perfectly ordinary to me..."
"You've only been serving the spirit lord for a short time, so you wouldn't understand. He possesses the power to glimpse into people's pasts. He must have seen something in that fellow."
It's not quite like that... The Wendigo felt a bit awkward at Geron's explanation. He had no talent for reading people's histories. No matter how you sliced it, how could anyone read the past like that?
Skadi must have fed him some weird info again.
But the Wendigo didn't correct him. The warriors who had joined just yesterday had already drawn their weapons at Geron's words. As the warriors snapped out of their confusion and assumed combat stances, the young man—still gripped by the throat, pleading with his eyes—let out a choking gasp.
"Gurk! Sp-spare..."
"If you don't want to die, show your true colors. Otherwise, accept your death quietly."
Krunch!
"Kyaaaaak!!!"
"Wh-what?!"
Just as his neck bones were about to snap, the young man's face twisted into something hideous. He drew a hidden dagger from his waist and thrust it toward the Wendigo's arm. The warriors froze in shock. Could this guy, who had looked like an innocent youth provoking a spirit's wrath, really be a villain?
Geron rushed toward the Wendigo, shouting desperately.
"Protect the spirit lord—!"
Clang!
The moment the youth's dagger pierced the Wendigo's hide, it shattered with a clear ring. Not a single scratch marred the Wendigo's skin.
"?"
"Looks like that was pointless."
The Wendigo twisted the youth's neck in one swift motion. The young man breathed his last with a look of utter disbelief.
With the ambush failed, the villagers pulled out their hidden weapons. Hammers, butcher knives, sickles... pathetic excuses for arms, but their ferocity was unmatched. Faces reminiscent of demons spat blood as they charged the warriors—bypassing the Wendigo entirely.
The Wendigo was utterly baffled.
"Unbelievable. So this is that fake madness or whatever?"
"Kill! Kill! Kiiill!!"
The warriors clashed with them. Realizing these weren't innocent folk, the warriors swung without hesitation.
The Wendigo began to summon his mysticism but paused.
Come to think of it, I don't know my warriors' capabilities.
What did it matter to the Wendigo, whose personal might was second to none? Couldn't he just wipe them all out himself? But upon reflection, it did matter a great deal. No matter how strong, one person couldn't beat a group. Even a Goguryeo watermelon knew that much. Of course, the Wendigo figured he could handle up to 1 vs. 100, but the world was full of unbelievable events.
Even in my past life, there were monster-like folks. Zhang Chunjing, Lu Bu, Xiang Yu, Joan of Arc... Even superhumans who could take on a hundred or ten thousand couldn't overcome the limits of the collective. He wasn't human, but he doubted he was an exception.
The Wendigo let his mysticism subside and watched his warriors intently.
Geron was the first to catch on.
He grasped the Wendigo's intent immediately.
"Everyone, form up! The spirit lord is watching us. We can't show him anything shameful!"
"Yes!"
As expected of a former village chief. Geron seamlessly took command, forming ranks. Shield-bearers up front, axe- and sword-wielders in the middle, spears at the rear.
"Die! Diiiie!!"
At the clash, the warriors' shields shoved the enemies back. With the charge's momentum broken, their eyes changed.
Forest folk were lightly armed by default—iron, not steel, weapons mostly, leather armor at best. Yet southern "civilized" folk feared them for their primal ferocity.
The warriors unleashed their savagery, shoving and trampling the foes. As their dormant wildness bared its fangs, they swung without mercy.
"Die, die...!?"
"I'll kill you. I don't know what scum you are, but if you pick up a weapon, you're prepared to die!"
Axes severed necks, swords hacked limbs. Fierce spears pierced skulls. Watching it all, the Wendigo was impressed.
They're holding their own against fearless foes. Stronger than I thought.
"Spirit lord. The palisade gate is opening."
Geron approached, wiping blood from his blade with the enemies' rags. The Wendigo looked toward the palisade. While his warriors slaughtered the villagers, the gate—previously unmoving—swung wide open. He frowned.
Armed foes emerged from the entrance. Tattered armor, blood-crusted weapons— the blood uncleaned, blackened and rotten. No normal human would look like that.
The centerpiece was a massive warrior in their midst.
"Just looking at him makes me want to puke. Do parasites pass for muscle or something?"
"...Even to me, he looks repulsive. Is that warrior even alive?"
The brute retained a human shape, but his skin writhed madly. Even if parasites had replaced his muscles, it wouldn't be surprising.
He raised his greatsword and bellowed—a phlegmy, throat-tearing roar echoing through the forest.
"Geron, lead the warriors. Fight defensively as much as possible. And if they open their mouths or look like they're about to vomit, dodge."
"Are they spreading a curse?"
"No, from what I know, those things spew parasites when they get an opening. Tell everyone to watch for it."
Geron wondered how the Wendigo knew, but chalked it up to ancient spirit wisdom accumulated over ages. In truth, it was from modern clichés... but half-right nonetheless.
The Wendigo extended both hands toward the ground. Roots and an ice sword fused in his grasp. Crossing the frost-laced blades, he charged the enemies.
"Stab them!!!"
The foes howled, thrusting spears and swords as they rushed him. The Wendigo's arms flared like wings, then he swung the ice swords. Leather armor couldn't withstand his monstrous strength. Bodies burst, spilling guts as they tumbled.
Not all were swept up, though.
"Still, humans are smarter than monsters."
"Diiiie!!!"
Worthy of warriors? Some dodged the blades, swinging back fearlessly. Unshaken by comrades' deaths, thanks to lost fear.
But it didn't last. The chill in the ice swords raged like an aftershock, flash-freezing them. Fearless, yet alive—they perished without screams as the frozen north pierced their marrow.
Undeterred by allies' deaths, more charged... but the Wendigo's relentless strikes allowed no openings.
As he severed necks, he taunted.
"You filthy parasite. I don't know what you are, but this is futile. Crawl back underground like the worms you are, and I'll spare you."
"Grraaah! Go, kill that bastard's minions! I'll embody the master's wrath!"
True to form as a commander. Realizing warriors couldn't take the Wendigo, it shifted targets. The greatsword parasite roared, and warriors crouched, hurling toward the Wendigo's rear—spewing blood, overtaxing their bodies for speed.
They pulled away quickly, but...
"Admirable effort."
The Wendigo wasn't about to let them. He morphed one ice sword into a spear and hurled it at the lead warrior. Lightning-fast, it impaled him, embedding in the ground.
The greatsword parasite sneered.
"Heh heh heh, killing one changes nothing..."
"You talk too damn much."
Cutting off the greatsword parasite—greatsword bug, too long—the Wendigo channeled mysticism through the spear. The ground froze around it, roots erupting like rabid dogs, surging at the foes.
The charging enemies' feet froze, ankles snared by roots. Geron seized the moment.
"The Wendigo aids us! Cut their throats!"
Geron's dozens clashed with the parasite-controlled dozens. Victory tilted toward the Wendigo's side.
Enraged, the greatsword bug's face convulsed.
"You... you son of a—!!!"
"A parasite talking honor? You, ashamed of your own body, stealing others'—as if you'd stoop to decency..."
The Wendigo stopped. Provocation complete.
The bug's legs compressed like springs, lunging at superhuman speed. Its greatsword arced for his neck.
The Wendigo calmly parried with his ice sword. The inhuman blow drew admiration.
"Not bad strength."
"Sp-spirit! I'll fight till your power runs dry!"
"Doubt it. And I don't play with parasites."
As the bug snarled—thinking it a taunt—chill seeped into its blade. Cracks spiderwebbed; frost crept toward its hand.
Its eyes widened in horror. Retracting desperately...
"Too late."
The sword shattered with a crystalline chime. Frost-laced shards exploded outward. The Wendigo deflected them; the bug didn't. Arrows of ice pierced its flesh.
"Kraaaak!!!"
As it staggered screaming, the Wendigo slashed off its limbs. They froze on severance; it collapsed. Parasite corpses spilled from the stumps.
"Poor thing. Time to end it."
"W-wait..."
Ignoring the plea—obviously parasite theater—the Wendigo swung down. But...
He halted. A sickening rupture climbed the bug's throat.
Its mouth gaped, revealing a massive parasite.
Blood dripping, it spoke.
"You cursed spirit bastard. I propose a deal..."
"What deal with a parasite? Shut your trap and die."
"Wait, I am not the insignificant being you think. Our mother..."
The Wendigo ignored the drivel and brought his sword down. This time, it didn't stop.
The blade bisected the massive parasite. It wailed in outrage and perished.