Flee from the Raven!
Raven watched the Berserker Monkey prostrating before him with its bright red backside thrust high and felt his sense of reality slip by half. “Ukkii…!” “...And what the hell are you supposed to be?”
That was when it happened.
A flash. In the eye sockets of the Wendigo—its jaw blown open, body split clean in half, collapsed like a corpse—a spine-chilling blue glow ignited. Squeeze. Then, like a candle flame in the wind, it vanished.
The Wendigo had activated one of the Skinwalker lineage’s secret arts in desperation: Skin of the Closed-Eyed Beast (Playing Dead). Leaving the rest of its mangled body untouched, it regenerated only the fatal head wound. Gritting its teeth against the agony of severed flesh, it forced its mind to work.
‘Ugh… the sacrifices… how many offerings remain…?’
Only fifty. If every last one vanished, the Wendigo—an incomplete immortal—would meet true death by fire. ‘There were six hundred and sixty-six proxy burning bodies…!’
How? How was this possible?
‘To slaughter that many lives in such a short time…?’
What kind of monstrous flame could do this? How many taboos had to be broken before one could so easily reap so many lives?
‘Is that thing… truly a fellow Skinwalker like me?’
Was it truly the Shaman Who Chews on Taboos?
The Wendigo felt a flicker of doubt at Raven’s abnormal strength. But—
‘Huu… hee hee hee…’
With every shallow breath, leaking life force and a trembling soul scattered those idle thoughts. Pain and the approaching threshold of death cooled the awe, leaving only pure, ash-like rage in its place.
‘…Whether it’s a kinsman who has stepped into the abyss, or a hellish demon come to collar a sinner… it doesn’t matter…’
To fulfill its long-cherished desire… even if that thing was an evil god who had transcended death—
‘I will crush it by any means necessary…’
To do that, first… it had to survive!
‘…I’ll withdraw here for today. Count yourself lucky, you damned crow…!’
It could not afford to die a dog’s death without achieving anything!
Having decided to flee from Raven, the Wendigo fashioned five temporary clones from the sacrificial bodies it had hidden deep in the cave. It ordered them to locate a suitable host for soul transfer, then let out a mental sigh. It ground its teeth, bitterly aware of how poorly prepared it had been.
‘I should have readied spare clones in advance as insurance…’
It had been too arrogant.
‘Yes… far too arrogant…’
Uncharacteristically so. The Wendigo had always been timid by nature; it would never have made such a ridiculous mistake under normal circumstances. Why had it done so? Why had it offered the secretly prepared backup clones as fuel for the six hundred and sixty-sixth flame curtain?
The moment it resolved to flee, the Wendigo felt the power it had received from the nameless demon begin to wane. That was when the thought struck it.
Meanwhile, Raven was staring down at the Wendigo playing dead while leaking an impressive amount of high-quality terror. He had already turned his gaze away from the monkey, which was now performing a perfect dogeza.
“...Is it asleep?”
He chambered a single round of pure horror.
“Filling.”
Agliophobia (Fear of Pain): Terror of agony and suffering.
Charge: 10,000.
Inside the frozen cavern, a blue glow kindled within something abandoned in the darkness, its limbs torn apart. Flash.
Then came the change.
Crack. Crunch. In place of its missing arms and legs, deer limbs sprouted. Its neck stretched long. Eventually its round head compressed and shrank until, in the gloom, something resembling a slightly unnatural deer took shape.
Hsssss… Frost leaked from the muzzles of the five temporary clones created by the shaman’s will. Creak. Because these were not the carefully crafted clones the Wendigo had poured its heart into, their movements were awkward and they could not use the gaze that summoned murderous intent. Even so, these imperfect vessels possessed one unique ability.
They could track the breath of living humans.
Creak… At their caster’s command, the things that were deer yet not deer lifted their heads and began sniffing furiously, searching for any humans worth capturing nearby.
After a short while—
Creak. All the Not Deers’ muzzles turned in the same direction at once.
Creeeeak… Creeee…
And then the ice cave, which had reeked of blood, was empty.
***
There was a certain party that practically lived inside the main body of Green Zone’s tenth floor. A nameless four-person party consisting of two Tier 2 male warriors, one Tier 3 male guide, and one Tier 2 female mage. Because they always seemed to be running from something whenever they appeared, they were known as the Fugitives.
“Aaaah! It’s cold! It’s way too cold, Leader!”
“If you’re that cold, go ask those furry things chasing us for a hug!”
Jackson, the Tier 3 Pathfinder and leader of the Fugitives, dragged the whining Lena along as he frantically kept moving his feet. As usual, they were busy fleeing from bizarre creatures. The brain-dead warrior brothers would accidentally provoke the monsters, or the overly curious Lena would poke something strange, triggering yet another strategic retreat. That was everyday life for the Fugitive party.
But this time was different.
‘We didn’t even do anything this time!’
Not long ago they had done something insane—luring a horde of monsters into the White Zone to survive—only to have Raven wring tears and snot out of them before stealing every dallant they owned. Ever since, they had been exploring more cautiously than ever, behaving themselves. Yet—
—KWAaaaaaaaang!!!
“That eardrum-splitting roar… you don’t think…?”
“The crazy demon’s here?! In the Green Zone?”
“...After wrecking the White Zone, now he’s coming to trash the Green Zone too?”
“Leader, this doesn’t feel good at all, does it?”
Along with a familiar(?) massive explosion, sudden heavy snow began falling across the Green Zone. No one knew exactly what had happened, but every high-tier monster living in the central area was fleeing in blind panic. And the Fugitives had the terrible luck of standing directly in their escape route!
“Now! Everyone move!”
“Hya!”
“Hah!”
“Uryaaah!”
The party threw themselves sideways to escape the monster stampede, then shivered violently as they stared toward the heart of the Green Zone where the blizzard raged.
“Damn it, what kind of insane stunt did that crazy demon pull this time to make the monsters so terrified?”
Drex, the black-armored warrior, shook snow from his hair with violent jerks. His younger brother Drok sheathed his twin blades, complaining that his hands were freezing.
“Can’t you tell just by looking, brother?”
“...Are you saying this abnormal weather was caused by that crazy demon? That’s ridiculous…”
Actually… it wasn’t impossible. If he was a demon capable of using large-scale flame magic that could erase dozens of monsters at once, maybe he could use large-scale ice magic too.
“I agree with Mr. Drok,” Lena said. Snow piled on her wide-brimmed witch hat slid off in clumps. Having witnessed Raven’s grand magic (Laser Mace) before, Lena believed the one who had brought winter to the Green Zone was indeed Raven. In fact, she thought no one else could wield magic so far beyond common sense. ‘If it’s him, who stands at the pinnacle of magic…’
She believed that an Archmage—the peak of all mages—would find controlling the weather no great difficulty. In the mind of this girl who dreamed of becoming the world’s greatest mage, Raven had become an incredible figure capable of wielding both massive flame magic and an unknown grand spell that summoned winter itself. She had no idea that the only magic he could actually use was an ultra-close-range healing spell whose incantation was so ridiculously long he had essentially sealed it away.
That was when Jackson’s unusually tense voice shattered their thoughts.
“Everyone…”
Get ready for battle.
Schwing. A blurred reflection of the gray sky appeared on a blade drawn from its sheath. A wooden staff that had been pointing at the ground rose toward the front. A frozen tower shield lifted slowly. At Jackson’s command the Fugitives finished positioning themselves and scanned their surroundings with calm, sunken eyes.
Though they were a weak party mocked with the label “Fugitives,” they were also veteran adventurers who had survived for a full four years without dying. And what appeared before those veterans was—
“A deer?”
“Lena, if that’s a deer, then Drok’s a monster.”
“...Brother. Why are you suddenly picking on me…”
Cree… creeeeak. They looked like deer, yet were far too unnatural to truly be called deer. Jackson, who had thoroughly read The Hero’s Biography, knew exactly what they were.
“You idiots! Look closely, damn it! Those are Not Deer! Close your eyes right now…!”
…!?
If you met a Not Deer’s eyes, you would fall under a hypnotic suggestion to kill the person closest to you. The Fugitives immediately looked down at Jackson’s shout. But that turned out to be a very bad choice.
The Not Deer currently surrounding Jackson’s party were specially created entities designed solely to chase and subdue humans. The moment they spotted their target—
Creak. The predator hidden inside the seemingly ordinary deer hide opened its eyes.
Crunch. Like a pupa shedding its cocoon, the deer’s back split open. The hide peeled away, revealing a grotesque fusion of deer and human. Then—
Creeeak… Creeeak… Creeeak… Creeeak… Creeeak…
Carrying out the shaman’s command, they hurled themselves at the Fugitives, who were standing defenseless with their eyes tightly shut.
At that exact moment—
“Sir Kkachi.”
“Kyu!”
“Uwaaaa! Somebody please catch me!!!”
“Hans! Use the force of your fall to cut!”
“How do I do that?!”
“You lot! If you don’t want to die to these monsters, open your eyes nyang!”
A cat-like voice rained down from the sky.
“Sherpa Sion?”
“But… why is it coming from the sky…?”