I Became a Wendigo in a Fantasy World

10 – Episode 10

Lyuric, the shaman with a friendly impression, was born a scammer. To him, sincerity meant stupidity and honesty meant dumbness.

He certainly would have been beheaded if it wasn’t for his luck, but Lyuric was a very lucky piece of trash.

The only con that was ever executed was the one that led him to meet a shaman master, who took him in because he saw potential in Lyuric. The master raised him to be a shaman.

Lyuric thought of life as easy. It was natural since he committed sins yet kept moving forward. Hence, he wasn’t overly concerned this time.

As always, he believed that luck would be grinning at him!

“Damn it!”

That naive belief was returned with Wendigo’s fierce claw. Lyuric hurriedly chanted a spell, awakening the charms he was wrapped in. The charms put up an invisible shield, emitting a noisy light.

Bzzt!

“Crazy thing!?”

As the shield was being torn apart by Wendigo’s claw, Lyuric stepped back, vomiting astonishment.

Lyuric was amazed by the fact that the charms were shaking as if they would break just from the coldness left by Wendigo’s claw. The charms had used all their power against the mere coldness of a claw!

Wendigo was also surprised. No one had ever previously blocked his attacks, let alone the fact that he was being slapped by a shaman.

“You’re a more competent fraud than I thought. Surrender peacefully. You’re aware of the crimes you’ve committed,” Wendigo said.

“How do you know that? I’m a virtuous shaman!”

“I’ve never seen anyone who thinks highly of themselves being virtuous. Plus, I can smell a terrible scent and sense the mystery of crazy beasts from you.”

Lyuric gritted his teeth. He thought perhaps the Spirit might not identify him, but he had no idea that it would attack so recklessly.

‘Why does that mad spirit act that way? Spirits usually don’t move unless there is a benefit.’

Scoundrels tend to know the motives of other scoundrels all too well.

Fittingly, Ryurik, a man of innate character, knew the moods of spirits very well. Spirits appear to act based on their mood, however, they usually behaved in ways that benefited them.

No matter how much a shaman desired to help a village, the spirits wouldn’t volunteer to assist. They helped only when a certain payment was guaranteed.

Ryurik’s head, filled with numerous sins, started spinning fast. That spirit must also be moving because it’s profitable for it…

One possibility immediately occurred to him. Ryurik distanced himself from the Wendigo and initiated negotiations.

“Spirit! If you desire the admiration from this village, please cease your anger. I will solve this issue and serve you well!”

“You madman, even in this situation, you’re still attempting to sweet-talk. Stop with the nonsense and summon the spirit with whom you’ve made a contract. I have a score to settle with it.”

The Wendigo disdainfully rejected the negotiation. What the hell is he talking about admiration?

Wendigo had no intention of negotiating with Ryurik.

He had heard from Skadi that human awe and fear significantly enhanced a spirit’s mystique, but to be honest, those words didn’t resonate with him.

“When have I ever lacked mystique? If anything, it’s my overflow of mystique that’s the problem.”

Wendigo had never once felt less mystical even when he pushed himself. As he never felt he lacked anything, it was only natural he didn’t desire anything.

His desires were more human-like. He simply wanted to eat well, wear well, and live a life of enjoyment. A very human desire!

Ignoring Ryurik’s words, Wendigo manipulated the cold to create an ice sword. As the massive claymore unveiled, Ryurik’s eyes trembled.

“Damn it, why would a spirit as powerful as you appear in such a frigging forest just for a bite!”

“… I can’t help it because I was born in such a frigging forest.”

Wendigo retorted with an irritated voice. Although it wasn’t his original home, he found the insult to the forest, which was presumed to be the source of his existence, irksome.

Wendigo, filled with personal sentiments, swung his claymore intending to cut Ryurik into pieces. Seeing the unusual aura surrounding the claymore, Ryurik hurled curses as he unsheathed the wooden sword from his waist.

Ryurik threw the sword into the air and began reciting a spell. Inspired by his spell, a giant made of roots and branches rose from the ground and grabbed the wooden sword.

A pink flower then bloomed on the wooden sword, sprouting a thorny stem. The wooden sword, as a result, grew to a size comparable to Wendigo’s claymore.

“O Giant of the Thorn Tree, strike my enemy!”

As Ryurik cried out, spitting blood from his mouth, the giant charged, swinging the giant claymore.

Although pulling in excessive magic without proper preparation had caused internal injury, Ryurik gained confidence.

He thought he could withstand any formidable spirit given his intense magic.

‘He’s also a spirit. He thus wouldn’t want to use magic excessively!’

He didn’t need to win. As long as he could persist, Wendigo, caring for his magic, would naturally retreat!

Looking at the giant summoned by Ryurik with interest, Wendigo brandished his claymore. As his sword collided with the giant’s, a loud noise reverberated through the village.

When the Wendigo’s great sword detonated its icy aura, the giant’s sword instantly froze over. Yet, the giant did not retreat. Using its weight, the giant pressed its sword down, blasting out roots from its body to heavily entwine the Wendigo.

“Can’t hide it any longer, can you? These disgusting roots, they’re the source of your spirit, aren’t they?”

“The thorny giant will not fall easily. Just give up and go back!”

“Dodging the question, I’ll take it as an affirmation then.” Amidst the roots entangling his body, Wendigo voiced calmly, gradually pushing aside the giant’s body.

As a chilling, piercing force burst from the Wendigo like the winds of a snow field, the roots coiling him lost their life force instantaneously and fell from his body.

The giant, even as it lost vitality, swelled itself to obey its master’s command, attempting to thrust its sword into Wendigo’s throat. It turned out to be a futile struggle.

When Wendigo’s great sword cut down the giant’s in return, Wendigo ended up dominating the giant as the latter lost its stance. The sound of dry twigs snapping began to emanate from the giant’s body. Rurik looked on pitifully.

“Damn it…”

“For a shaman, you have a foul mouth. Or is it just that the four shamans I’ve met were all the same?”

Wendigo’s great sword cleaved the thorny giant in half. As the flowers that sprouted on the wooden sword wilted and the giant’s body fell droopily, the frozen branches poured out.

Rurik trembled in fear. The fall of the giant was something he had somewhat prepared for. After all, it was a tough task for a shaman to win against a spirit.

But… why hadn’t the Wendigo, who dealt with the giant, changed a bit?

“W-why hasn’t your mystic power decreased?”

“Well, I don’t really know.”

Wendigo was ignoring Rurik’s knowledge outright. A spirit is bound to have its mystic power reduced when it starts to use its strength, yet Wendigo was still brimming with the same mystic power as when Rurik first encountered him.

At this point, Rurik started to regard the spirit in front of him as something else entirely.

‘There’s no way I can win with my level!’

Biting his lip, Rurik took a seed out of his waistband. Wendigo instantly recognized what he was attempting to do.

“So finally thinking of summoning the spirit, huh? Would have been easier and better if you brought it out from the start.”

“Damn it, you should know better the meaning of summoning the spirit.”

“Yes, a price must be paid. Considering what you lost, it might have been for the better.”

“How dare you!!”

Ryurik swallowed his anger, his face turning red. He had no rebuttal to Wendigo’s words.

How many sacrifices and materials that he had gathered to create that giant!

At least three years worth of the shamans wealth must have been used. The loss of such a treasure was more than bitter, it was unbearable.

“Oh boar of roots and branches, by the contract I call for you, humble shaman that I am. Reveal yourself!”

A seed flew from Ryurik’s hand and dug into the ground. It sprouted roots, a stem, and branches, taking form. It transformed into a boar reminiscent of a massive boulder.

The boar spirit opened its eyes reluctantly and looked down at Ryurik who had bowed before it.

“…Ryurik. When you spoke, you indicated it was a simple task.”

“I-I apologize. I thought it was a village without a shaman, but suddenly a spirit and a shaman appeared…”

The boar questioned in clear disdain, yet Ryurik did not dare complain. His life hung in the balance on this boar spirit’s judgment, after all.

The boar spirit, laughing at the foolish contract holder, turned his gaze towards Wendigo. He laughed at the contract holder, but this was the boar spirit’s first time encountering a spirit like Wendigo.

Spirits were generally entities filled with a certain kind of mystic aura.

Like rocks and dirt, plants and earth, rivers and waves, there were spirits mixed with similar mystics, yet there was nothing like this spirit before him.

“What is your name? The giant born from the ice? The beast that runs across the snowfield?”

“It’s not such a poetic name. My name is Wendigo, damn boar.”

“…What?”

Caught off guard by the insult during his conversation with a fellow spirit, the boar spirit asked again in confusion. Wendigo patiently repeated himself.

“My name is Wendigo, ugly snouted boar. Aren’t you going to keep your wriggling roots still?”

“You, a spirit holding onto such a ragged mystic aura, dare!”

Spirits were proud and selfish entities, but at least they showed minimum courtesy to each other, an unspoken rule among the most noble beings in this world.

Of course, Wendigo did not follow those rules. To him, spirits were mere monsters lucky to possess a mysterious aura.

“I said shut up and fight. If you’re too scared, you can run with your tail between your legs too.”

“You intend to kill me? Do you think that’s possible! I am deeply rooted… “

“Exactly, you’re just a boar. You’re no better than an average pig as you can’t even be eaten.”

The boar spirit, out of its sense, lunged at the Wendigo.