The Abominable Horde: Monsters, Beasts, and Men
Monsters, beasts, and humans—an utterly impossible combination formed the enemy ranks. It was no wonder their backs prickled at the sight of these foes charging with guttural roars. It defied all common sense.
Yet the warriors neither retreated nor showed fear. Geron thrust his weapon high and bellowed with vigor.
"If we fall back, our families will suffer eternally! If you don't want to watch that happen and drown in regret, stake your lives on this fight! Fight to protect your families!"
The warriors erupted in thunderous cheers, their battle spirit igniting. Why were they here, after all? To honor their noble warriors and safeguard their kin!
As the warriors' fervor blazed hot, Wendigo glanced at Geron in surprise. Geron had a talent like that?
"You've got a knack for commanding people."
"Heh heh. Isn't it all thanks to you, Lord Wendigo?"
Wendigo cleared his throat awkwardly at Geron's humble deflection. He wanted to argue, but the way he'd rallied the warriors himself had been a bit... demagogic.
Not that I expected it to work that well.
Dealing with Gikas would only get more troublesome over time, so he'd chosen a quick persuasion tactic. Apparently, in this world, honor and family held more weight than he'd imagined. Who could've guessed the warriors would be so swayed?
As Geron shot him a knowing "I figured as much" look, Wendigo sighed and yanked his greatsword from the earth.
Won't matter if I tell Skadi I never taught her rabble-rousing—she won't believe me anyway.
Shaking off the needless thoughts, Wendigo fixed his gaze ahead. The enemies surged like waves.
"Kieeeek!!!"
"Kill them! Kill and offer them to the Master!!!"
The foes charged, spewing blood. It'd be ideal if they just died off alone, but that didn't seem likely.
Just like what I saw in the parasite village. They're pretty fast.
Furious Gikas had surely pulled some trick. At this rate, the warriors would be pushed back on impact. Wendigo slammed his sword into the ground. His mysticism raced through the soil, enacting his will.
Crunch-crack!
Roots and branches shot up like spears from the mysticism-infused trees. Not just one tree, of course—over ten unleashed sudden strikes, piercing the enemies.
It was effective enough, but Wendigo clicked his tongue.
"The monsters and beasts dodge pretty well."
Regrettably, it wasn't as potent against beasts and monsters. They slipped through tiny gaps, darting between the trees in an instant.
Try again? Nah. They'll just dodge anyway—no real gains.
Continuing would only shrink the warriors' maneuvering space. Wendigo withdrew his mysticism and drew his ice sword. As he took a single step, the beasts scattered with howls. Different species, but their intent to swarm together was clear.
As their ferocity peaked, Wendigo sensed the need to break their momentum. He assumed a stance and drew a deep breath.
The moment they closed in, a mysticism-laced roar exploded from Wendigo's maw.
■■■■■■■!!!!!!
The frost-laden roar whipped up a razor gale, sweeping the surroundings. Beasts at point-blank had eardrums and eyes burst, patches of hide flash-frozen. The rest survived but felt their boiling blood chill to ice. A primal terror, beyond any parasite stimulus, smashed into their minds.
Whoa. I can do that? Wendigo marveled at his own deed. Who'd have thought his sinister, useless voice held such power?
Wendigo swung his greatsword. Beasts and monsters, agilely dodging until now, froze stiff and ate the blade. Six or seven shredded apart; he surged forward. Another swing, and six more tumbled as corpses into the snow.
Among those watching the slaughter, Geron recovered first. He slapped his own cheek and forced his rigid legs to move. Standing dumbstruck wouldn't do!
"Move, everyone! Stick to the Spirit Lord!!"
"!"
The warriors snapped to at Geron's command and mobilized. The roar still echoed in their ears, but not a direct hit—they could move. Trailing Wendigo, they hacked down foes.
Wendigo crushed a goblin's skull one-handed, observing.
With warriors covering the flanks, I'll punch through the front.
He hurled the dead goblin like a grenade; it burst with a boom, smashing several into trees. Foes began shaking off the roar's effect, but the tide didn't turn. Their numerical edge was gone.
Ignoring his surroundings, Wendigo rampaged with savage ice-sword swings. Parasites puppeteered their hosts to block him, but...
"R-Run! Dodge!!"
"M-Master!!!"
Survival instinct overrode parasite commands. Wendigo's violence was too overwhelming for courage. Barely minutes into the fight, over fifty puppets—regardless of kind—were reduced to meat chunks by his blade.
Had their attacks even worked, it'd be something. Realizing fangs and blades did nothing, they lost heart. And the broken in spirit make similar choices.
They turned tail en masse...
"Master! Help us, Master!!!"
"To the lair! Retreat to the lair!!"
Puppets and parasites lost control, bolting for the lair. Veteran warriors or brutish monsters—when danger looms, all crave their cozy nests.
So nimble in flight, Wendigo halted his swing in disbelief.
"Heh. Where'd that village bravado go? Pathetic."
"Must be the Spirit Lord's roar. Chilling from behind—if you heard it head-on?"
Geron, now at his side, panted as he replied. Wendigo found it plausible.
Even modern shamans and exorcists yell to banish ghosts.
Doing so in a ghostless world suggested voices carried real power. Still, fleeing to their lair...
"Honestly, it'd make anyone run."
"Saw the Spirit Lord swing? Wasn't slicing—ripping."
"If something like that's my enemy, I'd pray first. 'Spare me pain, just kill quick'—forget the rest."
...Maybe running is normal.
The warriors whispered, but Wendigo's keen senses caught it all. If allies feared him, enemies must've panicked. Parasites were alive too—desperate thrashing made sense.
With things eased, Wendigo felt conflicted joy and sorrow as he headed for the lair.
Wendigo ordered the warriors to guard the lair's perimeter and entered alone. Unlike outside, unknown dangers might lurk within.
Unless it's brainless, it'd leverage parasitism for some scheme.
The word alone conjured horrors: implanting parasites in strong hosts for minions; feigning non-infection to lower guards; secretly infesting allies for sabotage...
In such peril, solo was safer. An infected ally would spell disaster.
By its talk, it's lived ages. Must've prepared something.
Why do sages look elderly? Time breeds wisdom and knowledge. Gikas had arrogance and sloppiness, sure, but...
Wendigo stayed vigilant, creeping deeper. Sure enough, foes emerged from within—but oddly.
"S-Spare me!!!"
"?"
A one-armed human burst out, begging. Three or four more followed, terror-stricken, fleeing toward him. Wendigo hesitated.
The lead one's face rang a bell.
The first to flee earlier?
Enemy, yes... but charging unarmed? Beasts' fangs hadn't scratched him—humans attempting melee?
As they neared, Wendigo raised his ice sword. Infected or not, no time for judgment.
Infected or not—slash 'em all!
No falling for Gikas's tricks. As he gripped his blade, screams rang out.
...Not from fear of him. Something flew from behind.
"Where do you think you're going, my slaves?"
A whip-crack echoed from the dark, barbed tendrils lashing out. One pierced a human's back, splitting with a crack to anchor firm.
"Gaaahhh!!!"
It dragged him into shadow. Wendigo heard distant crunching and rending.
Tendrils kept snaring humans amid screams and gore-stench filling the lair. The last one-armed man collapsed at Wendigo's feet, reaching out.
"S-Spare me! The master's gone mad!"
"...Poor bastard."
Wendigo leaned, extending a claw. The man wept with hope of survival. Needless to say, Wendigo had no such intent. His claw tapped the man's head; frost spread, encasing him whole.
Wendigo's final mercy: painless death.
As another tendril snagged the corpse, Wendigo's sword severed it.
"Insolent wretch. Dare interrupt my meal?!"
"...Never thought I'd get table manners from a bug. Cut the crap—show me your prep."
Wendigo growled, mysticism surging. Gikas flinched at the aura but held firm.
"Fine. Come inside. I'll handle you myself!"
"...?"
Wendigo sensed something off. A parasite fighting directly? What did that mean?
Control puppets personally?
Plausible—parasites get precise with fewer targets.
Wendigo kept his guard up to the end. At the lair's depths, he faced Gikas.
The massive Gikas rivaled a legendary wyrm, but lacked dignity—more grotesque insect.
Wendigo scanned with senses for hiders. Only Gikas registered.
"...You alone?"
"Fool! With such power, you fret over minions? True strength is solitary perfection!"
Oblivious to Wendigo's pitying stare, Gikas preached philosophy. Ignoring the drivel, Wendigo pondered.
Didn't expect a real-world power-mage type.
Prime chance while lost in fantasy. Wendigo swung hard for a one-shot kill.
Clang-crack!
"!"
"Hahaha! Not when I'm off-guard. Think you can slice three centuries of tempered flesh?!"
Gikas's shell was tough. Scratched, yes—but not lethal. Wendigo couldn't hide surprise.
Its philosophy had merit after all?
Not just a time-wasted idiot... even junkies had logic.
"Never eaten a spirit, but you'd make a fine meal!"
Gikas's maw gaped; dozens of tendrils rained on Wendigo.