Slaughter in the Swirling Snowfog
Something flashed again amid the whirlwind of snowy fog. The seasoned warriors recognized it instantly as a spear.
"Incoming spear! Scatter!"
One warrior's shout snapped the others to attention, but their response came too late. The spear hurtled through the air with a deadly whistle, piercing another warrior clean through and sending him flying backward with a scream. The rest stared in horror. No ordinary spear could pack that kind of power.
"Get it together! No matter how mighty the throw, they can't hurl it if we're up close!"
Zaken, the second-in-command after Bokun, barked the order, and the warriors gripped their weapons tighter. Warriors they were, through and through—no matter the shock, they wouldn't lose their fighting spirit over a couple of fallen comrades. Teeth gritted, they charged forward, flames of vengeance burning in their eyes. They didn't know the exact distance, but they'd make that foe pay for the humiliation.
"Unleash the beasts—charge!"
"Hunt the enemy!"
The warriors released the leashes and roared. The beasts let out mournful howls as they pounded the earth and surged ahead. In situations like this, the vanguard always suffered first. Spears targeted the heads of the lead beasts.
Boom!
"Fuck, how the hell is that a spear?!"
"Shut up and run! You wanna debate it now?!"
The spears hit with such ferocious force that the struck beasts were literally torn apart. But amid the chaos, Zaken spotted a pattern. Unlike the sleek wolves and leopards, the boars and bears weren't being pierced through.
Zaken rushed up beside a bear and yelled, "Stick behind the big beasts as you advance! The spears can't penetrate them!"
Fueled by survival instinct, the warriors desperately huddled behind the larger beasts. Zaken's call was spot-on—the spears could claim the beasts' lives but couldn't halt the warriors' charge. Morale steadied naturally. At this rate, they'd reach the enemy beyond the fog!
"I don't care who or what that spear-thrower is—even if it's a spirit, I'll kill it!"
"Damn it. Can't see shit in this fog—what kind of bullshit is this?!"
Somewhat safer now, the warriors bared their original ferocity and steeled their resolve. But unlike the hot-headed others, Zaken wrestled with an inexplicable unease.
Something's off!
No reason, no evidence—just his gut screaming at him. His instincts warned him to flee, even if his mind couldn't grasp why.
"Zaken, the fog's getting thicker. We can barely make out our surroundings at this rate!"
"I know... but don't worry too much. They can't see us either. Plus, we've got the beasts on our side, unlike them!"
A warrior running beside him warned, and Zaken replied reassuringly—though really, he was reassuring himself. Spears still flew from the front, and even the keen-sensed beasts hadn't detected the enemy, so at least they weren't surrounded...
Wait. The beasts aren't picking up the enemy?
A chill ran down Zaken's neck. Spirit-blessed beasts couldn't possibly miss their foes. But that realization came too late.
As the warriors passed a massive tree, something sliced through the fog toward them. Lost in thought and lagging behind, Zaken recognized it as an axe. A huge, crude axe hurtled straight for the warriors' waists.
Dodge!
Zaken instinctively dove for the ground. The others, blinded by rage and charging blindly, couldn't react in time. They desperately raised shields and weapons against the flying axe—their only futile struggle.
Of course, it was pointless. The axe shattered shields and weapons before cleaving the warriors in half in one brutal stroke.
Krunch!
The savage axe blow split their bodies, sending halves soaring into the sky. Zaken gaped upward at the impossible sight. Guts and blood splattered the ground, and the thick fog parted momentarily.
"A sp-spirit!"
There stood the Wendigo, its fierce eyes gleaming ominously. The eerie, mystical voice echoed in their ears, making the warriors swallow dryly in tension.
"Get lost, you damned spirit scum!"
"Turkin! Wait—!"
One warrior, overcome by fear, charged the Wendigo. Zaken stared blankly at him.
Idiot. How do you fight a spirit alone?!
Zaken was right. The fog regrouped, and the warrior was snatched by the throat, dragged into the mist.
"Aaaaaagh!!!!"
Before the warriors could help, horrific screams erupted from the fog. More terrifying than the rending flesh were their comrades' agonized cries. What horrors could make battle-hardened warriors wail like that? Unimaginable.
"What the hell did we touch?!"
"Calm down and group up! We can't face it alone!"
The Wendigo's voice echoed from all directions, shattering their focus. The terror of it lunging from behind gnawed at their iron wills.
The beasts broke first. Even spirit-blessed, they were slaves to instinct.
"Yelp! Yelp yelp!"
"Fuck... the beasts are fleeing!"
The sinister mysticism already maddened humans—how much worse for keener beast senses? Despite OneTon's blessing, they fled in panic, blood streaming from throats and eyes for defying orders. The warriors had to admit it: this wasn't a fight. It was a one-sided hunt—by an unseen hunter striking unpredictably!
"Damn it, I knew it! Zaken, we gotta run too!"
"With the beasts gone, this is our chance. Use them as bait and—?!"
The fog-shrouded Wendigo appeared from nowhere, eyes flashing as it swung its axe. The warriors lashed out in desperation. Their battlefield-honed strikes were threatening... but
Like stabbing a boulder!
Swords and axes couldn't pierce its hide; spear tips snapped on impact. Zaken's blade left a faint scratch at best.
Failure meant the Wendigo's merciless axe. Frost-wreathed swings turned warriors to chunks slamming into the dirt.
"My skin... my skiiiin?!"
"Gah! Can't... breathe?!"
Dodging weapons didn't save them. Frost seeped into skin and lungs, felling them one by one in agony.
"Fuck..."
"Run... everyone, run!"
Zaken, grasping the hopelessness, snatched a fallen axe and bellowed. Realizing they had no chance, the survivors fled.
I'll... buy time.
No idea how long, but Zaken raised the trembling axe, facing the front. His shaky gaze fixed on the hazy Wendigo in the fog.
With fleeing warriors behind him, Zaken bit his lip to swallow a scream. Without the metallic blood scent and numb pain, he'd have begged for mercy and bolted.
"Come at me. A Blue Mane Tribe warrior will face you!"
Zaken cut a pathetic figure. Hair whipped by wind and frost, skin caked in rime threatening instant death, limbs quaking against his will. As the Wendigo stepped closer through the fog, blue flickered in Zaken's eyes.
Yet he stood firm—to draw its gaze and save his men, even briefly.
As its massive frame loomed, Zaken met its eyes.
I'm dead.
He sensed his end. The instant that axe swung, he'd die without resistance.
But... the Wendigo didn't strike.
"...I don't follow OneTon. I only wish for our tribe's peace."
"......"
Zaken fell silent, unable to answer. The Wendigo had laid bare the doubts swirling in his heart. Why was the Blue Mane Tribe spilling blood in this forest against an unknown spirit? Was there any reason for warriors' lives to be wasted over the chief's deal with that spirit?
"!"
Zaken's eyes widened. If he hadn't misheard, the spirit was offering mercy...
A spirit doing that?
"I-is that true?"
As if proving its sincerity, the Wendigo slowly backed away. As its form vanished into the fog, its voice resounded through the forest.
That was the Wendigo's final warning.
As the fog receded and the surroundings returned to normal forest, Zaken's legs gave out, and he collapsed. He clutched his throat and chest, confirming he was alive. Hard to believe.
Realizing his survival, Zaken panted and scanned around. Mangled corpses filled his view, and the warning echoed in his ears: beware the fog.
Face ashen, Zaken sprang up.
"Th-this isn't the time!"
He stumbled, groaned in pain, but rose again. No time to waste—he had to return to the tribe and warn them. Never approach the fog.
And...
...I'll confront OneTon and the chief. What reason is there to go this far in a forest harboring that thing?
Limping away, flames of discord flickered in Zaken's eyes.