I Can Fly
Sometimes, creatures thrust into desperate situations unleash power beyond their limits. Lifting massive concrete slabs barehanded at a collapse site. Swiftly rescuing a drunk who fell onto subway tracks. Driving off a beast dozens of times their size to protect their young.
Supernatural phenomena, superpowers, limiter release, super strength, breakthrough, awakening—whatever you call it.
So, the latent potential dormant within me, facing crisis, suddenly manifesting as transparent wings like a dragonfly's? Or a screen that looked exactly like a status window popping up before my eyes?
Strictly speaking, it wasn't an entirely inexplicable situation. If I had to put it into words, it was something like a spontaneous mutation in a life-or-death crisis?
You know, the familiar trope? Like in Pocket Monsters or Digimon, where a monster in peril evolves into a new form and turns the tide.
"Wi... wings?"
As if they'd always been there, the pair of transparent wings flapped naturally at my command. I dazedly looked down at the ground.
Whoosh!
"Eek?!" "Arf! Arf arf!"
Then I spotted a wolf leaping high toward me and hurriedly gained altitude. After a staring contest with the wolf whose attack had failed,
a new line appeared on the translucent status window. The wolf that had just been radiating intense intent to devour me was a Gray Dire Wolf.
Naturally turning my head toward the wreckage of the carriage,
info on the wolf pack—now pausing their meal to glare at the sky—popped up like spam ads before my eyes.
'…Gray Wolf?'
Wolf and Dire Wolf… are they different? A question arose, so I glared harder at the status window, but
all I learned extra was that the Dire Wolf was pretty pissed at missing me. Visually comparing, yeah, the Dire Wolf looked about 1.5 times bulkier than the regular wolves.
Anyway, somehow I'd dodged the worst fate of becoming wolf chow.
Of course, I'd only barely avoided the absolute worst for now—problems weren't fully solved.
I glanced up at the sky, then at the transparent wings trembling on my back.
Whiiiing—!
Trees nearby blocked some wind, but enduring open skies with these flimsy wings that felt like they'd tear at a tug wouldn't be easy.
Blindly hiding in the trees?
Rustle. Rustle. Rustle.
Who knew what lurked behind those dense leaves.
Trust the new wings' durability and flee high? Ignore the ominous sounds and hide from the wolves first? Or…
Shwaaak—! "Grrrr…."
I leisurely dodged another leap from the Dire Wolf desperate to catch me.
Thud! Thud thud! "Grrr— Arf! Arf!" "Hmm…."
After evading a few more attacks, I gazed down at the thoroughly enraged wolf.
If the Dire Wolf had other attack options, maybe. But if all it could do was frog-like jumps…
…
"Pfft. Arf—!"
Did I really need to pick those risky alternatives? Reaching that conclusion, one corner of my mouth instinctively twisted up.
I stretched both arms toward the Dire Wolf snarling viciously at the sky.
Snap.
Middle fingers thrust sky-high.
"Pfahahahaha! Figures a beast pup would have such pathetic skills!" "Grrrrr—! Arf!" "Yeah, yeah, thanks for the escape!"
Can't resist flipping 'em off.
* * *
After that, the Dire Wolf kept leaping at me obsessively for a while.
Whoosh! "Arf—!" Whoosh! "Too slow."
It even tried smart stuff like using nearby low trees or rocks for a running start, or coordinating with the pack.
But wolves are wolves. Ground-crawling beasts at heart couldn't catch me.
"Huff, huff…." "Hm… that all?"
Honestly, after prolonged aerial combat, my shoulders were starting to ache. But showing weakness would make them clingier.
So I kept a super casual expression, arms crossed, looking down imperiously at the exhausted Dire Wolf.
Of course, one slip could be fatal, so I stayed vigilant on their movements.
Watching it crouch for another leap,
"Awooooooo—!"
it threw its head back, front paws extended, and let out a long howl.
"Awoo!" "Awoo!"
Nearby Gray Wolves howled in resonance. After staring at my sky perch briefly, they turned away one by one.
"…Ah."
Clear surrender.
.
. .
Only after watching the defeated Dire Wolf vanish into the forest did I
"…Hoo."
finally stop my trembling wingbeats and land on the shattered carriage.
If the wolves had shown more grit, it might've been dangerous. But they prematurely decided 'This fairy's the real deal' and quit. That was it.
"Ngggh—."
Hands clasped overhead, I stretched, then stared squarely at the status window before me.
Fairy lv.1
Fairy. As the status window said, I'd apparently been reincarnated as a fairy. And the cause?
'Probably that game.'
Game possession. I'm a fairy, and this is reality.
Honestly, no clue why I got pulled into the game. But whatever, moving on.
One thing that made zero sense remained.
'Why am I this tiny?'
About 10 cm. Maybe smaller.
Why? I'd customized totally normally. Becoming half a handspan tall was incomprehensible.
"Haa…."
What's done is done. Complaining wouldn't fix it.
I skipped that too, eyes dropping lower on the status window.
[Flight lv.3], [Evasion lv.1 (new!)], [Airflow Riding lv.1 (new!)]
The initial 'Flight' skill I'd glimpsed was now lv.3. And from one skill, two new ones added.
'Well, I was flying like crazy.'
Life-or-death with the wolf pack probably earned EXP. Nodding acceptably, I dusted off and stood.
Glancing around revealed half-eaten corpses.
"Eugh…."
Loaded with cargo, likely a merchant caravan. Ambushed on the steep cliff path while delivering goods, tumbled off, wiped out.
'…Or not.'
Truth didn't matter to me now.
Casually passing bodies, I slipped into a gap in the broken carriage.
Inside was surprisingly intact. Wolves had plenty of 'food' outside, no need to rummage.
But tumbling down a cliff meant damage.
Silver candelabras, broken candles, forks and knives, silver plates—spilled from shattered wooden crates, all mixed.
Flying to a shiny silver plate,
"This is… me?"
Light-green bob to shoulders, cherry blossom pink eyes with flower-shaped irises impossible in reality. Pristine white dress.
Sure enough, my appearance matched the character I'd customized.
'Still looks god-tier on second glance—'
Right as I admired,
Grrrumble—.
Stomach shrank. Post-battle hunger hit. Scanning the carriage,
"Oh."
Found a leather sack reeking of sweetness in a corner. Inside: glass bottles sealed with cork and wax, like the one I'd been trapped in.
Despite the crash impact, most bottles intact.
Not all unscathed—some shattered, contents spilled on the floor.
Pickled apples, peaches, pineapples mixed with glass. Spotted decent-looking fruit.
Careful not to cut on shards, I flew to purple grapes,
"Ngggh— Hup!" Pop—!
Yanked a grape off the bunch. Peeled the skin, bit delicately.
Om nom.
Sweet-tart flavor filled my mouth. I savored it.