Winter in the Forest (2)
Winter in the forest is brutal. No, not just brutal—it's fucking hellish.
Winters in my previous life got cold, sure, but without a long puffer jacket, this world's winter is a full-on survival game. Especially when you're dealing with uninvited guests who've come sniffing for our food, like right now.
"Grrrrr...."
A menacing growl rumbled out. A pack of gray-furred demon wolves had surrounded the cabin. Their white breath billowing over the snowfield was downright chilling.
The ecosystem of the winter forest is simple and straightforward. Throughout spring, summer, and fall, the herbivorous animals roam the woods freely—but the moment the first snow falls, they burrow deep underground into hibernation. Naturally, the carnivorous magic beasts at the top of the food chain end up starving.
When you're starving, you lose all reason—beast or human, it's the same. In this frozen hellscape of a forest where everything's locked in ice, a cabin leaking warm air and the smell of meat is like a 24-hour noodle joint in the middle of a blizzard to them.
Normally, Zepeto's barrier would keep even a single hair from getting through... but time is cruel. It's been a while since he fell ill and the barrier started weakening along with him.
Still, no need to panic too much. We've got an ice-type dealer who gets perfect buffs even in this midwinter field.
"Evel."
Go get 'em, Evelmon.
At my gesture, Evel stepped forward. What happens when Evel, born with the Extreme Cold Destiny, stands in a field that matches her title perfectly? Explaining the synergy would just be boring and pretentious.
"Hanbing."
With Evel's low chant, thick blue mana scattered in all directions.
Shwaaa—!
Cold air erupted from her feet in a fan shape, engulfing the lead demon wolves.
"Kyaaang—?!"
Three wolves that had bared their fangs and leaped didn't even have time to scream before freezing solid mid-air. Ice that her Heart Image had imposed on reality, crushing the laws of nature with her will—ice that would never melt.
The demon wolves, now ice statues, crashed to the ground.
Damn, frozen again. I specifically told her not to freeze them.
"Hey, I said don't freeze them. That's all meat and food right there."
"S-Sorry...."
The rule for game is to slit the throat right after killing it and drain the blood first. But if you freeze a beast alive without even doing that? The blood circulating in its veins freezes solid between the muscle fibers. Meaning, even if you thaw it out later and try to cook it, the whole thing reeks of that gross, gamey blood-and-offal stench.
What a waste.
That's when it happened. The ones in the rear saw their comrades' fate and immediately changed direction.
"Grrrrrng—!"
These were cunning forest beasts with plenty of experience. Having witnessed the overwhelming power of that wide-area freeze spell up close, their aggro naturally shifted to me—the blind spot in the magic.
Whoosh—!
The leader up front, a particularly huge one with a thick scar around its eye, spat flames from its maw. That guy's the boss.
I watched the flames shooting toward me and unwound the bandages on my left arm.
"Dusty, come out."
Slither... click.
And then.
Darkness swallowed everything.
The raging flames fizzled out in an instant. Dusty had devoured them. Not the flames themselves, but the mana contained within. It's a picky eater, but it gobbles up raw mana without complaint. I just don't feed it often because of the awful fuel efficiency.
But when the opponent's the one firing it off? That's a different story.
"Grng...!?"
The demon wolf's eyes widened in disbelief. Can't blame it for panicking—anyone would if their sure-kill spell vanished into thin air.
Perfect anti-magic. Dusty was the nightmare of mages. Of course, Heart Image magic infused with the caster's will was something it refused to touch even on pain of death.
But lower-tier Phenomenon or Structure magic? Just a light snack for Dusty.
Drip, drip.
In the all-encompassing darkness, eyes began to bloom. Dozens, hundreds of glaring red orbs snapped open across the sky, the ground, even on the pitch-black curtain surrounding us.
Crunch, crunch, crunch—
The gleaming red eyes fixed on the demon wolf pack in unison.
"Kiiing...."
Terrified by the grotesque sight, the demon wolves instinctively backed away, tails tucked.
I extended my left hand toward them, now robbed of any will to fight, and murmured softly.
"Dusty, eat."
Slither... clack.
Dozens of black chains shot out from the darkness, binding their bodies. They thrashed to escape, but the more they struggled, the deeper the chains burrowed, tightening mercilessly.
Crack, crunch.
"Kyag! Kya...!"
Neck bones shattered, followed by the beasts' dying whimpers. The countless red pupils watched the scene intently.
And soon after.
Shoooo—.
The pitch-black darkness enveloping everything receded, revealing the winter forest once more.
With the light returned, I could see the demon wolves' corpses scattered across the snowfield, necks twisted—every single one with eyes gouged out.
The snowfield was quiet after the darkness lifted. The demon wolves rolling around with their eyeballs eaten out were pretty grotesque, but in this world, surviving the depths of winter trumped everything—they were just prime protein sources.
"Evel, come help. We gotta drain the blood before they freeze."
"Ah, yeah!"
In this cold, even spilled blood turns to slush in no time, so speed is key. Plenty of carcasses, but we could only process one or two before time ran out. The rest? No choice but to freeze them with Evel's magic and dispose of them—leave 'em and other beasts would come sniffing.
We dragged the leader—the biggest one—and another decent-sized carcass. Then we hung them upside down in the yard and got to butchering. Meat for us, pelts to process and sell later.
Slice, rip.
Every time the dagger blade slipped between flesh and hide, hot steam rose up. The stench of blood, the biting chill numbing my fingertips. Gutting fresh kills and draining blood in subzero cold is no picnic.
Drain the blood, gut the innards, chop off limbs, separate the fur. Hands moving nonstop, and before I knew it, the sun was setting.
Winter forest days are short. Deep blue dusk settled quietly, and the blizzard started whipping up again.
"About done. Let's head in."
"Yeah!"
Evel turned toward the cabin first, basket of meat chunks in hand. That's when, rubbing my stiff neck and glancing idly toward the forest edge—
Several pitch-black silhouettes stood tall there.
".........."
Again. These shadows that popped up every few years when I'd almost forgotten.
My eyes narrowed. Definitely bipedal, standing upright on two legs—humanoid shapes.
At first, I thought the White Tower had sent watchers. But no. Those aren't human.
No presence, no breathing, no mana fluctuations, no life force. Just staring at us from afar, through the blizzard. Or from the edge of shadows, beyond the darkness.
"What're you doing? Coming in?"
"Yeah. On my way."
I turned casually and headed for the cabin. They're not aggressive, and obsessing over them changes nothing, so I ignored them. Probably just some mental breakdown from my already messed-up head anyway.
Creeeak, thud.
The old wooden door shut, cutting off the biting wind. Warmth thawed my rigid body instead.
"Cough, cough...."
A raspy cough came from inside the room. I brewed tea from dried herbs in the kitchen, then opened the door and went in.
"Here."
"Cough... thank you, child."
Zepeto took the cup with wrinkled hands. Even buried under layers of thick blankets, his fingertips trembled faintly as he held it.
"Quite the commotion outside, eh."
"Same as always."
Zepeto took a slow sip. The herbs were good for coughs, so he'd feel better soon. After a few more sips, the coughing eased a bit, and then—
"Do you remember your name yet?"
He asked the ritual question again. Same routine every time. From the first day at the cabin to now, word for word, no variation.
"...No."
And I gave the same answer, as always.
Then Zepeto just chuckled softly.
"Don't be too hasty, now. There's a time for everything when it comes to finding what's lost."
Followed by the same old comfort.
".........."
But as I took the empty cup from his bony hand, I couldn't meet his eyes straight on. I looked down and turned away indifferently.
Don't be hasty, he says. The one who's actually hasty... is you.
The old Zepeto asked just once a day, casually over meals. Like a gentle "How was your day?"
But this winter, the frequency had spiked noticeably. When he first woke in the morning, when he stirred from a drugged doze, right after a fit of dry coughing like now.
Like a man clutching at sand slipping through his fingers, he anxiously sought my name. As if he sensed his end was near.
"...It's snowing hard, isn't it."
"......Yes."
We gazed out the window. Winter was coming.
A colder, harsher winter than before.