The Legendary Shaman's Demise
A person's path in life is inevitably shaped by their innate personality and talents. Even someone with a violent temperament will end up as mere street trash without the gift for violence and charisma, but if they possess talent alone, they could etch their name into the pages of history.
In that sense, Gelmir was a shaman who had indeed marked a page in the history of the northern shamans. He possessed the valor to cleave enemies on the battlefield firsthand, the charisma that made his subordinates dare not rebel, and the cruelty to slay even his own kin if necessary.
Born with such gifts, he knew no fear and always acted on thought alone. Yet...
"Hah, hahaha. So even what I saw wasn't your true form."
The Wendigo, who hadn't even considered breathing, slowly emerged from the mist. Gelmir felt fear for the first time in ages.
He couldn't help but marvel at the Wendigo's body. The gigantic frame, evoking a giant, was cloaked in pitch-black hide that was beautiful—or perhaps terrifying. The deer skull presumed to be its head emitted an ominous glow, as if the resentful spirits of the dead were burning within.
Without realizing it, Gelmir gripped his lifelong companions—the axe and sword—staring down the Wendigo.
'I'd rather believe this is all a nightmare. What kind of monster doesn't even give off a presence?'
Among all the spirits and beasts he'd faced, none were as bizarre and grotesque as the one before him. He could overlook the unfathomable depth of mystery and the lack of presence— the world was full of inexplicable things.
But there was one thing he couldn't comprehend. Frowning, Gelmir asked the Wendigo,
"I can't fathom your thinking at all. Why did you drive us out?"
The Wendigo, not expecting the question, stared blankly at Gelmir.
Was he really asking out of ignorance?
"Strange. Even by my own reckoning, didn't it seem like I only expelled the sly, petty, and vicious ones?"
"I'm not so foolish as to have wasted my life without learning that. Hell, I lost an eye for overlooking it, so how could I not know?"
"Then you're asking even though you know the answer?"
The Wendigo asked as if it were the most obvious thing, but Gelmir shook his head firmly.
He readily admitted that, including himself, they were all shamans with infamous reputations, but he didn't see that as reason enough to be expelled.
"The deal between shaman and spirit is a form of battle. A fight to extract what you want from the enemy at the lowest cost."
'As expected of a shaman—not right in the head.'
Gelmir spoke earnestly, but the Wendigo recoiled in disgust, dismissing it.
If the Wendigo could make expressions, Gelmir might have swung his axe in outrage, but regrettably, it couldn't.
Oblivious, Gelmir expounded his philosophy as if sharing a hard-earned truth from years of experience.
"A deal is an act of deceiving the other to gain profit. It doesn't differ between spirits and shamans. So whether the opponent is wicked or virtuous, there's no reason not to trade if there's profit in it."
"Impressive how age brings such thick skin. By that logic, every merchant would carry a blade, and bandits could become merchants."
"...You're not pretending not to know when you do, are you? Do you really not know how many such people fill this world?"
"......"
As Gelmir eyed him suspiciously, the Wendigo was at a loss for words.
Indeed, in this world, it wouldn't be odd for merchants to be former robbers. Thinking of the faceless ones who'd absconded with faces, merchants here were quite mad...
"Enough of this petty squabble. We're not here to chat."
The Wendigo raised its ice sword, exuding killing intent. Gelmir lifted his weapons, subtly probing for negotiation.
"Any chance you'd consider a peace treaty? We'll pay dearly for our rudeness and start our relationship anew."
"Why wouldn't a wolf that bared its fangs once do so again? I have no intention of taking that risk."
"Even a forest-spanning spirit—do you think you can face hundreds of warriors unscathed?"
Gelmir truly didn't want to fight. Even if he defeated the Wendigo with full power, the losses wouldn't balance the gains.
With establishing a superior-subordinate trade impossible contrary to plan, it was better to offer reparations, withdraw the warriors, and scheme for the future. Persuade and absorb the warriors bereft of their chieftain, then...
"Honestly, facing you alone might be burdensome."
"Right. So let's make a fair peace treaty..."
"But who said I'm alone?"
"...Damn it."
Gelmir bit his lip, forcing himself to recall the truth he'd ignored. Of course it hadn't come alone!
■■■■■■■■!
The Wendigo's roar engulfed Gelmir. The talismans shielding his body rattled violently, shattering to protect him, but they couldn't fully suppress the roar.
It swept away the forest's mist.
"It's the spirit's signal!"
"Defend the forest! We'll repay the spirit's grace with our lives!"
Recognizing the chilling roar as the Wendigo's signal, the warriors sprang into action. Dozens of arrows targeted the enemy, bloodthirsty wolves charged at their riders' command, and bone-helmed warriors chanted savage hymns, surrendering to fanatical fervor as they rushed forward. The alliance warriors couldn't regain their composure.
"Wolves from the rear! We have to block them now... Argh!"
"Shields—shield guys, block those arrows quick! We're all gonna die!"
"No time for shields—stop those lunatics first! Before all the shields shatter!"
Even loyal warriors panicked in such chaos; how could those who'd lost their chieftain respond properly? Gelmir glanced at the pathetic scene and charged the Wendigo.
He'd instinctively realized he couldn't survive here without felling it.
Mid-charge, he pulled a bronze chain from his bosom and hurled it at the Wendigo.
Clank!
"I command the chain: Bind the spirit to this land!"
The chain instantly wrapped the Wendigo's arm, exerting its power at Gelmir's order. It trapped the spirit in flesh, preventing escape.
Spirits abhorred wasting mystery on longevity. Unable to flee by shedding their body, they'd either compromise or fight to the death, returning to nature.
Gelmir aimed for the former. He judged even the Wendigo would negotiate once losses mounted.
'...No effect?'
Unaware of Gelmir's intent, the Wendigo was puzzled. It had no idea if it could even shed its body, so the chain meant nothing.
Ignorant, Gelmir invoked his spells. Tattoos inked with giant's blood enlarged and strengthened his body; spells in his armor, boots, and bracelets aided him.
Prepared, Gelmir roared and swung his axe at the Wendigo's leg.
'Fast!'
The Wendigo was considerably surprised by Gelmir's agility—rivaling OneTon's among those it'd faced.
The ice sword arced toward Gelmir's neck, but bolstered by spells, he dodged nimbly, leaving a wound on the Wendigo's leg.
A minor cut, yet the Wendigo frowned.
"That axe bears a spell too. A particularly nasty one."
"It's been with me my whole life. What better material for a shaman?"
Gelmir's axe had shared his life, drunk the blood of hundreds, slain five beasts and two spirits. Such items naturally accrued mystical power—a spontaneous spell.
Among them, his axe was vicious: it inflicted ceaseless bleeding and worsened wounds.
'This'll drag him to the negotiation table!'
Gelmir barely evaded the ice sword, burning with resolve. Accumulate wounds, and the Wendigo would recoil and negotiate!
'Not as impressive as thought. Just prevents healing?'
Having gauged the spell, the Wendigo healed without hesitation using mystery. The axe's spell resisted, but it didn't matter.
An overwhelming wave of mystery shattered the embedded spell.
"Nothing special."
"!?"
As the Wendigo casually healed, Gelmir froze in shock. That spell wasn't to be trifled with—a warrior once nicked by the blade had died from an unhealing wound.
"How much mystery do you have to waste like that!?"
"No reason to tell you."
Startled, Gelmir tried to dodge as the ice sword targeted his neck. But shock slowed him; evasion was tough.
Slash!
"Guh!?"
He barely saved his head, but a moment's lapse sliced his shoulder.
The Wendigo had called the axe's spell nasty, but its own mystery was no different. Vicious cold spread from the wound, rotting flesh. Enduring the pain, Gelmir pulled a potion from his bosom.
A healing draught of troll liver, snake shed, and dozens of herbs. He retreated hastily, gulping it down.
The Wendigo gave no such opening, but...
"I command the sword: Strike him with lightning!"
The lightning wolf-bone sword flashed, spewing bolts.
As lightning flew, the Wendigo swung its ice sword at it—body moving on instinct, sensing no dodge possible.
It had calculated: its sturdy body could withstand lightning!
'Surely lightning won't kill me!'
Fortunately, it was right. Ice sword met lightning in a boom, the bolt vanishing.
Gelmir clicked his tongue at the failure and charged again.
'Even injured, land a fatal blow!'
From the Wendigo's sword graze, Gelmir gained conviction: fail a solid hit, and he was done.
Summoning giant strength to body limits, he overcharged the sword's spell.
Crackling, it glowed. Gelmir swung fiercely at the Wendigo, intent on cleaving it.
Obsessive blade met ice sword...
Boom!
Explosion—and thick lightning shattered the ice sword. The Wendigo glared in shock, not expecting it.
Gelmir exploited the opening, axe aimed at its shoulder.
"Die!"
"!"
Crunch!
The axe bit into the Wendigo's shoulder. Gelmir tried to overcharge its spell too.
Then, the Wendigo's hand seized his arm. He tried shaking free—failed. His arm began freezing slowly.
"Hurts. Or does it? Not sure."
"Damn..."
Gelmir strained spells to max, trying to sever the shoulder, but the Wendigo's other hand gripped the axe. Ice grew, swallowing it—sealed, overcharge failed.
"Wanted to kill you cleanly if possible..."
"Let go!!!"
Hands sealed, Gelmir spat blood and curses, but the Wendigo ignored him.
It could kill him without hands free.
Crunch!
"Gahk..."
Wendigo teeth tore into Gelmir's shoulder and neck—half-neck, shoulder, and torso ripped away. Vomiting blood, Gelmir despaired.
'Lived too long. Made this reckless plan without knowing its true nature.'
Only at the end did he admit his mistake.
The Wendigo offered dying words.
"Live kindly next life."
"Bull... shit."
Not expecting a spirit to preach kindness, Gelmir cursed briefly and breathed his last.
* * *
With Gelmir—the alliance's de facto leader—dead, morale plummeted instantly. Other chieftains and shamans bellowed futilely.
The tide had turned too far.
Even without arrows, wolf riders, and bone-helms, the Wendigo remained.
"We... we surrender!"
"Spare us! We were just deceived by Gelmir!"
Even honor-bound warriors feared death. One by one surrendered; soon all discarded weapons, begging.
Warriors yielding left shamans and chieftains powerless. Outnumbered for the expedition, weaponless, what could they do?
Bound captives could only curse the world, inept warriors, and dead Gelmir.
Even that stopped when the Wendigo appeared.
Joining his subordinates, the Wendigo pointed at prisoners, asking a nearby warrior,
"Why are they so frozen?"
"Well, you see..."
The warrior averted eyes, unable to voice irreverence.
Watching, Geron sighed, beckoning the Wendigo to lower its head.
It did; Geron whispered cautiously,
"Your mouth has blood on it."
"Ah, forgot."
The Wendigo recalled Gelmir's blood on its maw, nodding. A blood-smeared giant looming was naturally terrifying.
"Fine. Prepare messenger birds, Geron."
"Messenger birds?"
Puzzled, Geron asked; the Wendigo indicated chieftains and shamans.
"They'll send them. Use the fastest birds available."
"I still don't quite get why, but... understood."
Geron fetched parchment and charcoal, distributing to prisoners.
They paled, pleading,
"Please, spare us!"
"We'll pledge loyalty! Offer virgins as tribute if you wish—just spare our lives!"
"Have you all gone mad? I'm not asking for wills."
Correcting their misconception sternly, the Wendigo spoke. But prisoners hesitated to believe.
In this situation, what else but a last testament?
Tongue clicking, it commanded,
"Summon all with succession rights to the forest."
"Pardon?"
A chieftain questioned; warriors bashed his head with sword hilts, stomping.
"Daring to question orders!"
"Be grateful your head's still attached!"
"Aaaagh! Forgive me! Forgive me!!!"
Beaten to a bloody pulp, the chieftain writhed. Witnessing, prisoners seized charcoal, scribbling messengers.
Reason unknown, but... they didn't want such a beating to death.