Wendigo (2)
“Wake everyone up! Don’t forget to explain the situation!”
“Ah, yes, sir!”
“What about the mage?”
The fat mercenary, who had half-turned away already, asked the question.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Even for a mage, going alone is reckless. A wendigo is on a completely different level from a gnoll. If what I’ve heard is true, you’d need at least five Silver Plate mercenaries just to—”
“Who exactly do you think you’re talking to?”
Flames surged from the tip of Lawrence’s fingers.
“Send only the bare minimum of support here. If a wendigo has appeared somewhere else, put that first.”
“…Understood. I’ll bring people back as fast as I can.”
The two mercenaries sprinted toward the wagon.
Lawrence watched the approaching wendigo.
Luckily—or maybe not.
For now, there was only one in sight.
But judging by the size of the gnoll pack that had been fleeing, there was no way only one had come down.
The last traces of drowsiness vanished in an instant.
Lawrence recalled what Dorothea had told him at the Mercenary Guild.
“Wendigos are monsters known in the north as snow giants. Not only are they incredibly strong, but their hides are so thick that ordinary weapons can barely scratch them. Their resistance to the cold is also exceptional—apparently they can survive for nearly a month even in a blizzard.”
The hide did look thick, even from this distance.
A gnoll was little more than flesh with a skin pulled over it.
A wendigo looked as though it were buried beneath layers of thick fur and hide.
According to Dunstin, one of the finest cold-weather tools in the north was made from wendigo hide.
That meant if he could get it, the material would be worth a fortune—just like alligator hide.
“As a monster that represents the north, it’s well known to be weak to fire. The hide of a wendigo, which endures the cold, burns fiercely when exposed to flame. With your skill, Lord Lawrence, I believe you can bring it down easily enough.”
Bringing it down wasn’t the issue.
Even if he killed it, he wanted the hide intact.
Like with gnolls, fire magic might make it easy to kill, but then he’d lose all hope of salvaging any useful parts.
Fortune was on his side for once: the wendigo here was only one.
He’d leave the others to Sing and Sidra.
With two Silver Plate mercenaries on the job, they’d at least be able to hold the line.
More than anything, even if he went to help, he couldn’t just abandon this thing and leave.
He needed to reduce the number of monsters here by at least one more.
Lawrence raised a hand toward the wendigo.
“Bind.”
First, he would lightly test its strength.
At a glance, the creature’s build was comparable to a bugbear’s.
He wasn’t sure whether Bind would even be able to restrain it.
Still, if he could slow it for even a moment, that would widen his options.
But something was wrong.
No matter how long he waited, no vines sprang up.
What caught the wendigo’s attention instead was Shadow Light.
The creature tilted its head, curious about the light illuminating the darkness.
What?
The magic had definitely activated.
And yet the vines that should have risen at the wendigo’s feet never appeared.
“Bind.”
He tried again, but the result did not change.
Only then did Lawrence realize his mistake.
Bind was, at its core, a spell that accelerated the growth of plants.
But in this frozen waste, all the grass that should have served as the basis for Bind was buried under snow.
No—if it were only snow, that would have been a blessing.
Maybe the weeds Bind would have relied on had frozen solid and could no longer grow at all.
Of course, it wasn’t impossible.
But in this environment, he couldn’t expect the spell to work properly.
And besides, his opponent wasn’t a gnoll or a goblin.
It was a wendigo, a monster compared to the snow giants of the north.
A tree whose roots were not firmly set could not last long.
Even if he forced Bind into effect in its current state, it would never hold the wendigo’s legs.
Lawrence erased Bind from his mind.
That naturally reduced the number of spells he could rely on.
Thinking of the salvaged materials, the only spell he could use was…
Yes, Water Ball.
“Water Ball.”
The world answered Lawrence’s will.
Gathered water formed a sphere of blue light.
This was different from the one he had shown the fearless mercenaries.
Water Ball spun in place, accelerating.
The droplets that had been scattering from it suddenly settled into a steadier form.
Its color shifted beyond blue and turned red.
This was the Water Ball taught by the vodyanoy of the lake.
This was the first time he had ever used it in real combat.
If its effect proved too weak, he would have to switch to Shadow Spear or Fire Tail immediately.
The wendigo’s hide wasn’t the real problem.
Even if he managed to claim only a meager salvage, his life mattered more.
If he were to aim, should he go for the heart?
Or would the head be better?
The wendigo, draped in fur hide like armor, didn’t look as though any strike to the body would be fatal.
While Lawrence was still weighing his options, something changed.
The red Water Ball could not withstand the cold and froze over.
“……”
He’d forgotten.
Not because he hadn’t noticed, but because he’d become so accustomed to fire magic that it hadn’t even occurred to him.
Using Water Ball in this kind of bitter cold—it made sense that it would happen like this.
It was heavy.
The Water Ball, now turned from water to ice, felt dense and weighty.
“Ice Ball” would have been a more fitting name now.
Lawrence stared at it for a moment, then moved his hand.
Compared to the Water Ball in its liquid state, it was slower—but it still responded faithfully to his will.
There was no problem with his control over the spell.
That meant there was nothing between him and his target.
Cold light entered Lawrence’s eyes.
The head.
That would be more effective than blindly aiming for the heart.
The Water Ball—no, the Ice Ball—shot toward the wendigo.
A red trail cut through the air.
CRACK!
The Ice Ball flew on, leaving its mark, then shattered right before its target.
That didn’t mean it had missed.
What the Ice Ball had struck was not the wendigo, but ice.
A massive block of ice. Or perhaps an icicle.
Without so much as turning its head, the creature had blocked the Ice Ball.
Lawrence’s mind spun rapidly.
The judgment came in an instant.
The Water Ball wasn’t the problem.
He had underestimated it.
The danger it posed rose sharply in his mind.
He realized how foolish it had been to think he could secure even salvage from it.
At last, the wendigo tore its attention away from Shadow Light and looked straight at Lawrence.
Cold shivers ran over his entire body.
Its eyes gleamed, almost like a child that had just discovered a new toy.
“Shadow Spear.”
Lawrence cast the spell reflexively.
When a person was in danger, they naturally sought out the thing they trusted most.
For Lawrence, that thing was Shadow Spear.
Strengthened beneath Shadow Light, the Shadow Spear held a darkness as deep as the night sky.
Snowflakes that fell onto it burst into stark white blossoms.
The thin trail of vapor those blossoms made rose into the sky.
Kuaaarrr!
The wendigo’s roar shook the ground.
A howl so loud it made his ears ring.
Snow that had gathered in the trees fell away.
The wendigo moved.
It charged, leaving clear footprints in the snowfield behind it.
Fast.
It was a speed impossible to imagine from a body that massive.
And yet it was different from mere nimbleness.
The deep snow should have made footing difficult, with every step sinking in.
But the wendigo’s huge feet simply pressed over the surface.
For it, this place was no different from flat ground.
It suffered none of the restrictions that came with such a cruel climate.
If anything, the environment only added to its power.
The wendigo’s ice club swept across the snowfield.
Massive clumps of snow came crashing down like piles of rubble.
Holy Shield.
That would be a bad idea.
The impact was one thing, but the snow piling on top of it was the real problem.
Lawrence quickly rolled across the ground.
“Kh—!”
A dull shock crashed across his back.
The sound of hail rattled around him.
Snow, if one were being generous, was what it looked like.
But it was closer to chunks of ice.
Fortunately, thanks to his brigandine, the pain wasn’t too severe.
All in all, crouching low had been the correct decision.
If that snow mass had struck him full on, he would have been sent flying.
This was no time to relax just because the distance seemed safe.
This was the wendigo’s home as much as any place could be.
He raised his head.
Off to the side of his vision, the wendigo was kicking snow aside with its foot.
“Shadow Light.”
No one was stupid enough to suffer the same trick twice.
The shadow gathered into a single point and became light.
Blinded by the brilliance of Shadow Light, the wendigo shut its eyes.
“Shadow Spear.”
He had bought himself a priceless moment.
He didn’t have the luxury of making a rope and manipulating it again.
The wendigo, having regained its sight, stamped the ground in irritation.
It was a meaningless gesture.
The aim was already set.
The shadow spear tore through the air.
The wendigo did not move from its spot.
With the ice club raised high, it glared at the incoming Shadow Spear.
Got it.
Lawrence was certain of victory.
Just as it had with the orc. Just as it had with the gnoll warrior.
Monsters always caught Shadow Spear as if it were just another weapon.
And the result never changed.
But that was a rash judgment.
The Shadow Spear collided with the ice club—and did not explode.
“What?”
Or rather, had it veered off?
The Shadow Spear, its path deflected, crashed into a lonely patch of snow far away.
It wasn’t the worst outcome.
He had succeeded in stopping the wendigo’s advance.
Lawrence could see the hand that held the ice club trembling violently.
Red droplets of blood stained the white snow.
It looked like the palm had been torn open, and the creature let out a roar of rage.
A jolt raced through Lawrence’s whole body.
The wendigo’s howl stiffened him for a moment, but he quickly gathered himself.
There was no doubt it had been hurt.
Even if it had only been grazed at an angle, Shadow Spear was still Shadow Spear.
More than that, it was a Shadow Spear strengthened under Shadow Light.
The time he had spent in the Magic Tower had not been wasted.
It made no sense for Shadow Spear to grow weaker; if anything, it should have become stronger.
Now he understood, at least faintly.
Fire became Fire Tail.
Water became Water Ball.
Shadow became Shadow Spear.
Even if the order had changed, Unlock and Telekinesis.
Spells of the same attribute shared some kind of point of contact, one way or another.
Shadow Trap and Shadow Spear must be the same.
Shadow Spear had never betrayed Lawrence’s expectations—not once.
The moment he understood that in his mind,
he saw an upside-down lake before him.
No. He wasn’t seeing it.
Lawrence was sinking into a lake filled with stars.
There was no need to resist the flow.
He simply let himself drift, surrendering his body to the quiet lake.
It felt like resting in a gentle cradle.
The strange sense of familiarity was sweet beyond words.
Down he went.
Deeper and deeper.
All the way to the lake’s bottom, where not even a single glittering star remained visible.
In water darker than pitch black, it finally came near.
“Shadow Spear.”
What appeared before him was the shaft of the Shadow Spear.
The Shadow Spear he had once had to control by making a rope because he could not manage it otherwise was calling to him.
Sensation returned to his dazed mind.
Gripping the Shadow Spear, Lawrence looked at the wendigo.
He didn’t hesitate.
He hurled the Shadow Spear at the creature as it rushed him head-on.
This time, too, the wendigo raised its ice club.
But the Shadow Spear he had thrown directly, by hand, was fundamentally different from the one he had wielded moments before.
He had reached understanding.
The spell, touching a fragment of mystery, blazed to life.
Crack. The ice club shattered.
The Shadow Spear drove straight through the wendigo’s body.
A hole as massive as its body had been tore through it.
Red blood dripped from the flesh that burned at the edges.
Questions surfaced in the wendigo’s eyes, buried beneath its thick hide.
Its huge body toppled backward.
A red flower bloomed brilliantly across the pure white snow.
Laid out on the frozen ground, the creature would never rise again.
“……”
Lawrence looked down at both his hands.
It was a strange sensation.
It almost felt as though Shadow Spear were part of his body.
Like if he reached out, the spear would move with him.
The feeling that his senses had been extended still lingered at his fingertips.
This was not the first time he had felt it.
He had felt it in the Witch’s Forest too, when he had received Laurzara’s teachings.
Countless neighbors making up the world around him.
One fragment of the great will he had sensed alongside the flow of the ley lines.
It could not be seen, could not be touched, and yet it was undeniably there.
“Paint over the laws of the world, and lead them by our own will. Magic is the act of understanding the world. See more. Experience more. That is what will guide you toward the world’s truths.”
He slowly unclenched his fist.
Separate from the satisfaction of having touched upon the world’s truths, the emptiness in his chest was anything but light.
At best, he could probably do this two times—maybe three.
Throwing Shadow Spear by hand consumed an enormous amount of mana.
Unless it was a decisive moment, it seemed wiser to use it sparingly.
“Mage!”
The fat mercenary who had gone to fetch reinforcements came running back.
Behind him, huffing and puffing, were five or six more mercenaries.
“Are you all right? What happened to the wendigo?”
No answer was necessary.
The mercenaries who had come with him had already seen the bloodied wendigo.
“No way. You took down a wendigo by yourself?”
“So this is a shadow mage….”
The fat mercenary’s reaction was no different.
He looked from the wendigo to Lawrence, clearly unable to believe it.
“You’re incredible.”
That was all the fat mercenary could manage.
“Is everything else okay?”
“Well… the situation isn’t good.”
Not good?
In a grave tone, he continued.
“We managed to sort out the gnolls that hit the caravan. But the real problem is at the front of the line.”
“What’s up ahead?”
“…There’s another one.”
Another one.
Realizing what that meant, Lawrence’s expression hardened.
The situation wasn’t over yet.