Ekrixiphobia

Wendygo. The first 9-tier adventurer in Dungeon City Bastion, the man once called the strongest. The Hero Minuseus. For a ridiculous reason like simply preferring to be alone, he stubbornly insisted on solo exploration. He turned down every love call from countless parties and clans, always venturing into the dungeon in lofty solitude. And there were packs of admirers (stalkers) who worshipped him and secretly trailed in his footsteps. The world called them Minuseus’s Shadows. In ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠reality they were more like a Minuseus fan club or hero stalkers, but because so many of them had suspiciously wide connections and excelled at information warfare, records somehow preserved the respectable name Minuseus’s Shadows. Hard to believe, yet that is the legend handed down. Setting that aside, this is the story they actually witnessed and lived through.

Recording begins from the current time. Yay! …Lena, mana is precious, so please refrain from unnecessary speech during the recording. Yay…. Our current position with the hero is the torso section on floor 10 of the Green Zone. The entrance to the Green Zone, where the great goddess’s protection is fading, a place that can rightly be called the unknown starting line where the true dungeon begins. Yet to Hero Minuseus it is no different from the small garden in front of his home. Observe that utterly relaxed, confident expression.

-Aah, refreshing. Ah, the moment I speak, the hero finishes the mysterious ritual of tapping his back against the tree and begins moving deeper into the forest. It appears he intends to locate a portal and proceed to the next floor as quickly as possible. However, the heavy fog will make finding a portal difficult…. As Lena said. After rain, the Green Zone sometimes fills with mist and transforms into a Mist Zone. The dense mana permeating the fog makes portals harder to detect than usual, and conditional anomalies appear alongside the mist, rendering the area extremely dangerous. Among them, the most hazardous entity is naturally the irregular known as the Not Deer, an immortal anomaly with no recorded subjugation since the dungeon first manifested on the surface.

However, the Not Deer’s true body is a conditional living trap that can only manifest once its avatar has drawn blood. Therefore it is perfectly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠safe if one simply puts distance between oneself and the avatar or bows one’s head and waits for the fog to dissipate. But. Senior. What is it, Lena? It seems the hero has just sliced apart one of the Not Deer’s avatars. Lena. The hero is no dungeon novice; there is no way he would commit such a beginner’s mistake… right? Uh… while I was distracted explaining, the hero neatly bisected the avatar. The way it held its shape for a moment before belatedly collapsing is quite striking. As expected of the hero. What a clean slash…. Lena claims the hero swung his sword in surprise, but that was clearly the foolish Lena misreading the situation. There must be a profound meaning behind the hero’s decision to cut the avatar—something beyond the imagination of ordinary mortals like us.

-Oh! Sorry, deer! Wait, no antlers—maybe it’s a roe deer? But why is there a roe deer in the dungeon? Isn’t this supposed to be a JRPG? Senior! The hero is apologizing to the avatar while saying incomprehensible things! That, that… Ah! That is clearly a sophisticated deception meant to fool the true body hiding inside the avatar! To employ such high-level psychological warfare against an anomaly rather than a human—truly befitting the hero who excels in both literary and martial arts. Wonderful. I cannot help but admire him. So that was the plan! The hero is incredible after all! Yes, the hero is incredible indeed. Ah, the moment I speak, signs of the true body are emerging from the avatar the hero split vertically with his great slash. S-Senior, it’s out! Yes, I see it too, Lena. I can scarcely believe this is reality.

Currently, the true body of the Not Deer—previously veiled—has emerged from the avatar’s blood puddle, radiating a chill sharp enough to sting flesh. The enormous antlers shaped like rotting hands and the desiccated torso so gaunt its ribs are visible are truly striking. It looks like a grotesque fusion of a decaying deer and a human. -That… no way… is that a Wendygo? Wow, seeing something from fake documentaries in real life. Ah! Senior, the hero just looked at the true body and said Windigo? Endigo? Letit…… Lena. He said Wendygo. Is your hearing damaged? Fake documentary…? The fact that he even uses such technical terms suggests the hero possesses prior information on the entity. Every time I witness the hero’s vast knowledge I find it hard to contain my admiration.

-Sinking daylight. Waves that stop in time. Those who have realized, abandon all further hope. Sakwol. Ah! Did you see that, Senior? It’s the hero’s ultimate technique, Sakwol! I saw it too, Lena. As Lena said, the true body of the Not Deer that dared threaten the hero has been shredded to pieces by one of the hero’s many secret arts, Sakwol. To inflict such mutilation with a single swing—truly a terrifying technique. One almost feels sorry for the anomaly. Why he chants spells while wielding a sword is beyond the understanding of a mere common elf like myself, but the hero must have his reasons.

-…It survived after eating that? Wow. I didn’t expect it to have the immortal attribute too. That’s a bit troublesome. Huh? Senior! The body the hero minced is getting up again! Impossible! A monster native to the Green Zone took the hero’s Sakwol and is completely fine…. I knew it was no ordinary anomaly, but it is far more dangerous than anticipated. This information will need to be reported to the Adventurer’s Guild.

. . .

-Fireball!!! Aaaaaaaaagh!!! Oh! The Not Deer’s true body is fleeing! Senior! The immortal anomaly the hero named Wendygo, after being struck by the throwing flame potion the hero hurled during their fierce battle, has rapidly withdrawn from combat. Could it fear fire? In any case, this is yet another brilliant victory for the hero!

Huuuuuuu…. “Yuri! It’s too high! Please let me down! Please…!”

“How the hell do I do that!?”

Hans, forcibly launched into the air while bound by Kkachi’s tentacles, clung to his magic sword and wept. Unlike Yuri, who had been trained by Raven, or the height-loving Felis Sion, ordinary medieval people like Hans found ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the very concept of flight pure terror. There was nothing to be done about it. Yet whether Hans dangled from Kkachi’s tentacles and wailed like a child was irrelevant; Sion and Yuri were completely preoccupied staring at the frozen forest, worried sick about Raven.

“Raven-nim…”

“Kkamagung…”

Please. Whatever you’re doing, just finish it in moderation.

….

In the mask crafted from processed deer bone, a certain anomaly stared at the man whose red eyes glowed from within a crow mask (?). The being the Hero Minuseus had named Wendygo. It quietly observed Raven, then reached a conclusion.

…Is he the same kind as me?

A being who processes the hide of a beast, wears it inside-out, and borrows its power. One who chose to devour his own kind and become a beast in order to grow stronger. The great and fearsome shaman of the winter forest. A Skin Walker.

The man who had once sought power to avenge his mother—raped and murdered by a shaman of an enemy tribe—had ultimately abandoned his humanity. Now, facing a member of his own kind for the first time in centuries, he was stunned. And then—

This is a long-awaited stroke of good fortune.

Pure joy. Meeting a fellow shaman from the same lineage was pleasant, but the thought of growing even stronger made his massive organ tremble with excitement.

The imprint engraved upon him the moment he was abducted into this unknown space. A single goal. It had become his guiding light, the reason he continued to exist.

Aah, beloved mother…

Kill. Devour. Survive to the end. He would reclaim the precious blood relative he had buried in a tear-soaked corner of the tent—the one taken by the great and terrible demon who had dragged his dying, vengeful self into this hell. No, by the god who ruled this other world. If he devoured the kin wearing the skin of that crow, he would surely draw closer to that long-cherished desire.

A Skin Walker grows stronger the more taboos he violates. Among many taboos, the most potent is, of course, killing and eating one’s own kind. Yet—

It won’t be easy.

Thanks to the power lent by the demon, the variety of shamanic spells he could use had increased, but even so he could not be certain of victory against that.

Of all things, a sorcerer who uses a burnt crow…

His own specialty—handling the chill of a deer starved to death inside an ice cave—had poor compatibility with such an opponent. Still—

It is worth fighting.

In the past he had been minced and burned by a certain mad human; ever since, he had prepared countermeasures. If I cannot block the flames, I simply need to prepare offerings that will burn in my place.

He had prepared a total of 666 sacrificial bodies against flame attacks. Until every last one of them was reduced to ash, he would remain completely unaffected by fire.

It seems the Goddess of Death covets your shadow.

No matter how powerful a shaman, none can defeat one who has finished all preparations. Aaaaaaaaaaaagh!!!

Having calculated his own victory, the Wendygo threw its head back and let out a roar of greed.

“Noisy.”

Raven pressed the muzzle of his gun against the creature’s chest and pulled the trigger in rapid succession.

“Die, roe deer.”

I am the demon of roadkill.