The Shamans' Trial
The Wendigo possessing the clone slowly turned his head, scanning the shamans. Tension filled every face—clearly, they had ulterior motives.
Ah. Is it because I'm holding this sword?
As the shamans' gazes fixed on the blade, the Wendigo realized why they were on edge. In a dark space like this, encountering an armed monster was bound to make anyone nervous—especially if that monster was a spirit.
Habits are scarier than I thought.
He usually approached meetings with a simple mindset: friend or foe. Standing before the shamans, the Wendigo thrust his sword into the ground. Even that brief motion made them watch warily, as if the slightest provocation might unleash the blade's vicious chill upon them.
They talk about a test, yet shove something so terrifying right in our faces...
That bastard Isaac must've spouted nonsense.
The shamans abandoned what little trust they'd had left in the Wendigo. Clearly, Isaac had fallen victim to some vile trick.
Reading their emotions, the Wendigo felt a twinge of injustice but couldn't help sympathizing. Starting off armed was indeed rude.
Deciding to handle the awkward encounter more dominantly, he spoke.
"I can guess why you've come to the forest. Shamans like you must be here to advance your arts."
"Indeed. You who rule the world's end, guardian of the forest, bearer of the heart of frost..."
Do all shamans rehearse greetings like that?
One shaman stepped forward as representative, but the Wendigo recoiled inwardly. Unbeknownst to him, this shaman was renowned among their kind for his eloquence—a legend for calming a furious spirit with words alone. Yet even his silver tongue failed to stir the Wendigo's stoic demeanor.
Such flattery worked on those who enjoyed it, but the Wendigo had no taste for it. Prime meat or a new recipe would have appealed far more than empty sweet talk.
A shaman worthy of tales about taming spirits with words. With that tongue, even this spirit might warm to him...
"Sweet words, but no substance. Get to the point."
"......"
The shaman, mid-praise of the Wendigo's majestic form, froze as if struck by lightning.
The Wendigo hadn't meant to rebuke him harshly—time was simply too precious.
"You've all heard from Skadi, so you know I'll ask questions. Nothing difficult."
The shamans didn't buy it. Why question shamans if not with profound riddles to test their depths?
"Yes. We're prepared!"
"Then here's my question: For the sake of your shamanism, could you turn against the forest?"
"...Pardon?"
The bold shamans, braced for complexity, blurted out a rookie's foolish response.
The Wendigo eyed them pitifully and repeated himself.
"I asked if, for your shamanism, you could make an enemy of the forest."
Even knowing his expressionless face, they sensed his disdain. They felt wronged. What mad spirit asks visitors if they'd become its foe?
The shamans concluded this spirit was even less sensible than expected.
"Never! How could we betray the forest where a spirit dwells?"
"We're here only to pursue our arts. We know whose domain this is—surely you don't think we'd do such a thing?"
"Hmm..."
A true shaman excelled in acting. They answered with maximally aggrieved, sorrowful, pitiable expressions.
The Wendigo approached, leaning in close to scrutinize each face. As his exhaled chill brushed their throats, goosebumps rose, and they shivered.
"You."
"Y-yes, sir!"
He tapped one shaman's shoulder with a claw, and the man snapped to attention like a child before his master.
Staring into his eyes, the Wendigo pointed aside.
"You, go over there."
"?"
Perplexed but obedient, the shaman complied—lest he irk the spirit with questions.
The Wendigo selected a few more, sending them aside.
With the questioning done, he manipulated the wooden cave. Amid a massive rumble, the roots forming it shifted, creating two passages.
"Those who stepped aside, take that passage. The rest, this one."
"Great spirit, forgive our dull minds—we can't fathom why you've divided us. Might you explain?"
An elder shaman raised his hand, and the Wendigo nodded.
"I won't reveal the reason, but I understand your fear. I swear only to judge if you'll hear my words and pass the test—never to attack."
His oath eased them; spirits valued vows as much as shamans did.
The small wary group headed to one passage, the rest to the other... where the Wendigo awaited.
"???"
Startled, they turned, but the passage had vanished.
They hurriedly opened their Spirit Eyes, inspecting him. Vast mysticism still flowed through his body—no sign of shamanic arts.
...A higher spirit, beyond our detection?
"Now, the next question."
They let the doubt pass at his prompt. No spirit would waste mysticism on such an inefficient clone ploy.
Each passage, the Wendigo appeared before them with questions. Had he asked of spells they could wield, experiences, or offerings, they'd have stayed composed.
But he probed only character.
They couldn't fathom this spirit.
What the hell is he judging??
"You lot, go that way."
Another split group entered their paths, heads aching over his impossible queries—harder than any trial they'd faced.
Flattery, detail, confidence—nothing seemed the key. To them, he picked by whim.
"How did Isaac earn an ice crystal from this spirit?"
"No idea. Maybe he knew that shaman at the entrance."
"Quiet. Look—exit ahead."
As someone noted, an outdoor passage appeared.
Elated, they emerged at the temple entrance.
"Ooh, this is the spirit's temple?"
"Not as grand as expected..."
"Congratulations on passing!"
Skadi greeted the sightseers brightly. Her innocent cheer drew smiles; her odd skin and hair felt oddly endearing, not off-putting.
Ohsa, the sole woman among them, glanced around and asked Skadi.
"Where are the others? We're only five..."
"The rest failed and left the forest."
"Uh..."
Stunned, they exchanged looks. They'd assumed separate trials per group.
Over a hundred shamans dismissed over cryptic questions? Unthinkable.
Skadi read their thoughts, flashing a enigmatic smile they knew well from their own teasing ambiguities.
"Miss Skadi, do you know why the spirit asked those?"
"Yes. I'll explain on the way to meet him."
"Pardon? We already met and passed the test."
Her inscrutable smile returned as she led them. Baffled, they followed to the temple.
The temple's mood hung heavier than usual. Bone-helmed warriors stood watch over passing shamans; workers silently toiled.
What... so many warriors armed with enchanted gear.
Wooden weapons? Crude, but the aura's no joke.
The palpable pressure tensed them. One slip, and those warriors would swing.
Skadi gave a wry smile at their reactions.
Geron's idea seemed fine at the time... but these are the spirit's approved. Feels a bit harsh.
Geron bantered casually with the Wendigo, but none revered his authority more.
He'd hoped outsiders wouldn't take him lightly.
As the shamans eyed surroundings anxiously, Skadi reassured them.
"Don't worry. You've passed his test—no attacks from them."
"Right. What was that test, really?"
"It judged your character exactly as stated. No words could fool him."
"Most shamans master deception—how?"
Skadi nodded in agreement, but reality differed. Hiding truth from the Wendigo was near impossible.
"He discerns sin, lies, heart... by scent."
"Pardon? He's no truth or mind spirit."
One blurted reflexively. Opposites like frost and plants were hard enough; mental traits too?
"I don't know his limits. Just know from experience he can."
"Hmm..."
Baflled, they hurried on. Best to ask him directly.
They halted before his throne room. Two massive warriors knelt with a thud, greeting Skadi.
"Ahem. O-open the door!"
She ordered awkwardly; the helmed pair grinned like proud parents and swung it wide.
Thankfully, helmets hid their faces.
Torches lit the space, yet an inexplicable chill lingered...
"Gasp!"
"Isaac's tale was true."
A giant matching their prior Wendigo sat upon a grand lacquered throne, gazing down.