The Feral Spirit's Ultimatum
Wendigo carelessly tossed the seeds aside and glared at the man. Faced with the monstrous Wendigo's vicious visage, the man shed tears and trembled violently.
"Please, have mercy..."
"...Fine. Just answer my questions."
The man nodded frantically like a madman. It wasn't the attitude of a warrior, but he had no choice. He wasn't afraid of death itself, but the prospect of eternal torment by a malevolent spirit was an unimaginable horror whose end he couldn't fathom.
"Which tribe's warrior are you? Why did you attack the people?"
"Th-that's... Gah!?"
"!"
The moment the man opened his mouth to speak, the mysticism protecting his body twisted into a noose and clamped around his throat. Wendigo pulled back in mild surprise, drawing the mysticism toward himself.
'Trying to prevent him from spilling secrets?'
Wendigo wrapped the mysticism around his claw and fixed his gaze on the man's neck. One wrong move, and the claw would sever both the mysticism and the man's head... But he was going to die anyway.
'He's dead meat regardless, so what the hell.'
Without hesitation, Wendigo swung his claw at the man's neck. The strike artfully missed the flesh and shredded the mysticism instead.
But...
Wendigo frowned. His senses told him something was off.
"Keurk!"
"Your backer's a real piece of work. Putting a leash on even the underlings he sends out."
Confirming the man was still alive, Wendigo turned his attention to the mysticism. Half-destroyed by his claw, it coalesced into a single mass and began to stir.
The mysticism slowly took shape. A voice emanated from what seemed to be its mouth.
"I never imagined a spirit had taken root in this forest."
"Knew it. This forest never stays peaceful for long."
Wendigo grumbled softly upon sensing the spirit's aura emanating from the mysticism. What the hell was so special about this forest that it kept attracting all this trouble? There wasn't even decent food here!
The mysticism mimicked the form of a wolf and glared at him as it spoke.
"Apologize first. I had no idea a spirit had settled in a place like this."
'At least it apologizes. Maybe it's not as bad as that boar or the parasite.'
The Thorn Boar had acted all arrogant and preachy the moment they met. The parasite had thrown a fit like time itself was its rank.
By that metric, just apologizing put it ahead already...
"Enough with the apologies. Now for the real talk..."
"There it is. No way a spirit's gonna be that nice."
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Keep talking."
Wendigo played innocent at the spirit's question. No expression on his face meant no risk of getting caught anyway.
The mysticism stared silently at Wendigo before opening its mouth again.
"I am the one who devoured the wildness, worshipped by beastkin on the vast eastern plains... In human tongues, they call me OneTon."
"I'm Wendigo. Interesting name, though. Did humans give you OneTon?"
"As if. Humans uttering my true name is an insult in itself. So I picked something their feeble tongues could handle and made them use it. Isn't that how it is for you too?"
Snorting disdainfully and scorning humans—this guy's personality was rotten, no doubt. Wendigo nodded for it to continue.
"A mature spirit like me coming to this barren dump must surprise you."
'Not really. I'd prefer you just leave.'
"But sometimes, one must swallow pride and make hard choices. I did just that."
OneTon gazed loftily into the void like a noble wolf and began his tale. Wendigo tuned out the bombast, ignoring how cunningly and viciously he'd backstabbed other spirits and humans alike.
Once the story ended, Wendigo summed it up.
"So... your incompetent underling botched the perfect plan, forcing you to retreat here and bide your time?"
"Precisely."
OneTon nodded in satisfaction. As expected from a fellow spirit—quick on the uptake!
As OneTon appraised Wendigo as a sharp spirit, Wendigo stared at him in disbelief.
Strip away the flowery bullshit and boil the twisted yarn down to plain prose...
'So basically, he got greedy, took a beating like a dog, and ran away?'
Attacking the empire down south only to get wrecked by humans—and spinning it out that long.
'No, wait. In a world like this, anything called an empire has to be seriously strong.'
Empire meant real power in any world—enough to hold that title amid countless factions.
And in a world crawling with spirits and beasts, an empire? No way they were weak.
Naturally, OneTon—baring his fangs at such a foe—had to be no slouch himself.
'I'd rather avoid clashing if possible.'
"Now, the main topic. Behold the map I've drawn."
OneTon's tail fanned out wide, sketching a map in the air.
North: Endless forests and human tribes
East: Beastkin nomadic lands
West: Elven alliances expanding
South: Human and dwarf empires & kingdoms
"This forest sits at the continent's northern edge. Scarce food, even scarcer humans. North: boundless woods and tribes. East: beastkin nomads. West: elves building power. South: human-dwarf empires holding firm."
"Frankly, it has little going for it compared to elsewhere."
Yet OneTon had come here for one reason.
"Its sole advantage? Perfect for hiding."
"No other perks? Like abundant mysticism... or hordes of beasts?"
"Nope. Just a filthy, vast wasteland."
"......"
Wendigo shot OneTon a dirty look. He knew it, but spouting that nonsense right in front of the locals—human or spirit.
'Wanna smack him.'
"Anyway. Hiding's the perk. Criminals, witches, losers... trash keeps slinking in."
OneTon licked his chops and cackled. Wolves seemed cool at first... but that laugh made him look utterly vulgar.
"Makes it prime for biding time."
"No worries about rumors? That's it? Hard to buy that's enough to call it an opportunity."
This forest was great for laying low, sure. Even Gikas had hidden for three centuries partly because of the sparse population. Near a city, word would've spread no matter what.
But OneTon looked at Wendigo like he was an idiot.
"Idiot. Forgot the obvious for a spirit? Mysticism, duh."
"What're you on about?"
"This forest's ideal for gathering mysticism. Human sacrifices."
Wendigo puzzled it out, then asked incredulously,
"You mean human sacrifice?"
"Bingo! Not a total moron after all. Perfect spot for farming mysticism via sacrifices."
'Even crazier spirit than I thought... Nah, this is just normal for them.'
Wendigo sighed in resignation. Beasts ate humans to grow strong—what made spirits any different?
From this world's spirits' view, he might be the lunatic: obsessed with nurturing humans instead of exploiting them for mysticism.
As Wendigo reeled, OneTon expounded his ambitions in an excited voice.
"No competition for sacrifices—they come right to you! And the locals are scattered, easy pickings!"
"So why tell me this? There must be a reason you're spilling your plans."
"Sharp one. I like that."
OneTon dismissed the map and locked eyes with Wendigo, baring his teeth in warning.
"Don't interfere, and I won't touch your minions. Waste of mysticism to fight a spirit here... and pitying you, stuck in this dump."
"So don't mind me stirring up trouble in the forest?"
"Exactly. Easy to talk to. We're good then. Hope there's no bad blood next time."
With that, the mysticism dissolved and returned to nature.
"Unbelievable."
"Y-yes, ri— Gahk!"
Wendigo swung his claw, decapitating the man. Keeping him alive would just breed grudges—no upside.
More pressing was OneTon's threat. True to his infamous rep, this spirit was no joke.
Polite words, but the subtext was clear: 'Get in my way, and you won't stay intact.'
"Thinks he's being reasonable, huh..."
A normal spirit might buy it. They'd jot notes like "Forest... human sac meta... memo" and move on.
But not Wendigo. It pissed him off.
'Was just getting serious about gathering people and living right!'
OneTon rampaging would scatter folk—and lump Wendigo in with him.
His goals clashed hard with this world's spirits. No way he'd tolerate it.
'The gall. Threatening to trash my turf.'
Not that the forest was truly his... but he wasn't letting it slide.
Especially not from some swaggering blackmailer when he should be bowing and scraping to join up.
'Guys like that need actions, not words.'
Wendigo resolved to move immediately.
"Skadi. You outside? If so, come in—"
He paused mid-call. The fresh corpse might cause misunderstandings...
No time to correct—Skadi entered at his summons.
She glanced at Wendigo's face, then the headless body.
Her face hardened with resolve as she swore to him,
"I swear this won't reach the village. Absolutely."
"No, it's not what you think. Really."
"Yes, I believe you, Lord Wendigo. You must have had your reasons."
"......"
Her ironclad vow—not to breathe a word, even under torture.
Facing Skadi's unyielding loyalty, Wendigo regretted not briefing her first.
It took a long explanation to convince her. Whether true understanding or just deference, who knew...