Wendigo (6)

Azadine’s group, which included Sir Zebec, Brand, Ismail, and the orc necromancer Scott, reinforced their winter clothing with extra blankets and prepared to descend into the depths.

‘Leaving behind a knight but taking a scribe instead?’

Guillaumevalt, who remained above, smirked bitterly at the absurdity of his situation. Did they truly believe Brand was a better fighter than he was?

But if he were honest with himself, he felt relieved that he didn’t have to go down there.

Every fight put his life at risk, and if not for his masterfully crafted armor, he would have died long ago. People could speak of knightly duties and honor all they wanted, but stepping onto the battlefield meant gambling with death every time.

“Well then, let’s deal with the Wendigo as quickly as possible.”

“Best of luck, Messenger Azadine.”

Guillaumevalt offered his blessing, sincerely hoping Azadine would succeed.

As they descended the frozen path, the group soon discovered a pile of supplies. Unlike the usual trash swept in by the sewer, these were clean and well-preserved provisions.

“Oh, a palanquin.”

Scott’s eyes lit up as he spotted a box-like structure made of wood.

“A palanquin?”

“It’s a transport device we orcs use to avoid unnecessary muscle exertion. Judging by its presence here, it must have belonged to Walter.”

“Hm. It doesn’t have wheels, so it’s not some kind of flying contraption. People must have carried it around.”

“Exactly. It’s more maneuverable than a wagon and can be taken through narrow paths and staircases.”

“I suppose the rider would be comfortable, but the bearers must have suffered.”

“That’s why I use undead.”

“……”

“That’s also why I’ve moved on to using wheelchairs. But, man, I’d love to make enough money to afford a magic carpet.”

“A magic carpet? You mean the flying ones from old tales?”

“Well, they don’t actually fly. They just hover slightly above the ground.”

“Something like that actually exists? Hm, I’d like to see one.”

“They’re expensive. Oh, but if you gave me a copy of the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth, I could probably trade it for one.”

Rather than getting angry, Azadine carefully analyzed Scott’s words.

“So, you must know a trade partner willing to exchange a carpet for a copy of the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth. Does the Kurt Pantheon Alliance hold some kind of marketplace for that?”

“…Oops. I misspoke.”

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

“Well, as you saw with that snake-headed woman, if I spill too much information, people start labeling me a traitor. I may be loyal to my employer, but that won’t last forever.”

“Employer?”

“Let’s just call you that. No matter how well I hide my magnificent orcish features with illusion magic, you humans get uneasy the moment I use necromancy. If I call you my ‘employer,’ it immediately clarifies our relationship and makes them less wary of me.”

“That just sounds like you’re shifting responsibility onto me.”

“You’re the employer, so you should take responsibility. Besides, isn’t it an honor to have a genius of my caliber serving under you—”

“Ah, quiet.”

Azadine had spotted an enemy in the underground passage. A group of Wendigos approached, clad in tattered clothing with massive shoulder guards. They had fur-covered bodies and stag antlers protruding from their heads.

These had once been hobgoblins tasked with carrying the palanquin, but they had transformed into Wendigos.

“Grrr…”

The Wendigos exhaled cold mist as they raised their battle axes.

“The head!”

Azadine hurled an ice shard, striking a Wendigo’s skull. As its head snapped back, Brand lunged forward and severed its legs with the axe spear Walter had used.

“Well done!”

Sir Zebec swung his sword alongside Brand, slicing through another Wendigo’s jaw and driving his blade into its collarbone.

The Wendigo, its arm dangling uselessly, tried to exhale frost. However, with its broken jaw, the freezing air spilled downward, causing its own body to freeze.

Everyone shuddered as they watched the creature turn into an ice pillar. But in the end, they had once again taken down Wendigos without sustaining any injuries.

‘As long as their numbers are low, they’re not a problem. The real issue is…’

Azadine shivered as the ominous chill deepened with each step forward.

At that moment, Ismail spoke up.

“I can see the altar.”

“You can see it?”

“Yes, over there in the ice…”

“Ah.”

Hanging from the ceiling were transparent icicles, reflecting the surroundings and revealing the underground space below.

“We’re almost there.”

Azadine held his breath and moved cautiously along the ice channels, peering down.

There it was—the Wendigo Altar, also known as the Altar of Kin-Slaughter.

The altar, constructed from the bones of some unknown beast, radiated a terrible curse. Around it, monstrous creatures far more powerful than ordinary Wendigos roamed.

These were once the minions of Atra the Spider Queen and Mezerry the Rat King. After dying, they had transformed into Wendigos, their bodies grotesquely mutated.

They were nothing like the Wendigos formed from ordinary human corpses. Their massive, menacing presence even made Azadine uneasy.

“There are too many, and they’re too big. Can’t we lure them away somehow?”

“Let’s give it a shot.”

Scott activated his necromantic powers, manipulating the frozen Wendigo they had just defeated.

“You’re really using it openly now.”

“Hey, Holy Knight, I’m trying to save the world here. Do you even grasp how many people will die if those Wendigos get loose? Or is that beyond your limited intelligence?”

“I understand, which is why I tolerate it. But if no one keeps an eye on you, you’ll start using necromancy recklessly.”

“So you’re saying you’ll hassle me every time I use necromancy? Then in return, every time you benefit from my so-called ‘evil magic,’ you should thank me properly. That would only be fair, don’t you think?”

“…….”

“Why? Is it too humiliating for a Holy Knight to express gratitude to an orc?”

“First, I appreciate your help during the Wendigo attack earlier. Without your assistance, we would have certainly suffered losses.”

“Oh… so you’re the type to start by expressing thanks?”

Hearing Sir Zebec’s gratitude, Scott chuckled and directed the Wendigo under his control to the underground chamber where the altar was located.

Just then, a Wendigo that had originally been one of Atra’s kin suddenly shot silk from its tail, wrapping around one of the undead under Scott’s control. In an instant, it yanked it back like a fishing rod and smashed it midair with its front limbs.

“Gwoooarrrr!”

“Well, that’s unfortunate.”

The icy ground shattered, and from below, grotesque creatures emerged—spider-like but with deer antlers and long, shaggy fur covering their bodies.

Though they were once Atra’s kin, they had died and turned into Wendigos. Now, they crawled up the frozen walls from the underground passage, aiming for Azadine and his group.

—Mace of Judgment!

Sir Zebec hurled his mace, unleashing holy magic. With a deafening explosion, the ice wall collapsed, sending the climbing spider-Wendigos plummeting down in a cascade of shards.

However, a massive spider-Wendigo resisted the collapse, pushing against the falling ice wall with its body and continuing to climb.

—Squeeaak!

An arrow fired by Ismail embedded itself in the spider-Wendigo’s mouth.

Azadine hurled an ice chunk, striking the tail end of Ismail’s arrow and driving it deeper into the Wendigo’s throat. The arrow pierced all the way through, forcing the monster’s head to jerk backward.

While the spider-Wendigo reeled in pain, Brand charged forward with his poleaxe and hacked off the creature’s forelegs, which had been embedded in the ice wall to aid its climb.

The now-lamed spider-Wendigo plummeted downward but managed to halt its fall by ramming its antlers into the wall.

That only made things worse. With its head stuck in the wall, the spider-Wendigo flailed its legs wildly, inadvertently disrupting the other Wendigos.

“Good. We’ve thinned them out a bit. Let’s move around and approach the altar!”

Avoiding the spider-Wendigos, Azadine veered off to the side and leaped down the icefall. The height was considerable, but he slowed his descent by driving his sword into the ice wall, landing gracefully on the ground.

“Krrrrrrrr.”

Several Wendigos, possibly former disciples of Mezerry, emerged to block his path. Their snouts were elongated like a rat’s, and in both hands, they wielded scythe-like curved blades.

“You want to face me in a sword fight?”

Azadine gripped his sword and charged forward.

—Kazas Grimoire: Golden Crane!

His body swung in a wide horizontal arc, slashing with his blade. The moment his sword delivered its storm-like power, everything fell silent, leaving behind only a refined sword energy.

He had charged in wildly, but just as his sword reached its target, his frenzied energy transformed into a controlled, lightning-fast horizontal slash.

—Slash!

Azadine’s sword cut down all the Wendigos that had once been Mezerry’s disciples. Simultaneously, he glided across the ground, swiftly shifting his position.

“Incredible! But no wonder you always wear out your swords so quickly.”

Ismail clicked his tongue, realizing why Azadine burned through weapons at such an alarming rate.

“Cover me! I’ll investigate the altar!”

Azadine called out to his comrades before dashing toward the altar.

The Wendigos exhaled icy breath, causing the surroundings to freeze over. These undead monstrosities, born from twisted transformations, radiated an unnerving cold like a living nightmare.

‘This is getting tough to endure.’

Azadine took a deep breath, circulating his blood through his entire body. It was draining, but it chased away the cold. Pushing through the horde of Wendigos, he reached the altar.

“The sacrifice on the altar… if I perform a funeral rite, something should happen!”

A victim sacrificed through dark sorcery. If Azadine entrusted his soul to the benevolent Archangels he worshipped and purified him, the artifact fueling the Wendigos’ power might be weakened.

Azadine was no stranger to Nether magic, having studied under Elder Kazas, who delved into such arcane practices. He had feigned ignorance in front of Lady Lise and others, asking questions while secretly understanding the subject all along.

He spotted a corpse lying beside the altar. It was a young man—used as a sacrifice to release the Wendigos. Judging by his sturdy build and handsome features, he may have been one of Sir Brock’s servants.

As Azadine approached the body, the Wendigos intensified their assault on him. However, his companions unleashed a fierce counterattack, holding them at bay.

“Alright!”

Azadine took the sacrificed man’s hands and placed them over his chest. His stomach had been hollowed out, his intestines devoured, and his body bore the marks of gruesome wounds. The remnants of human sacrifice, cannibalism, and flesh-eating rituals—the signs of Wendigo magic—were evident.

‘That woman…!’

Azadine felt rage boil inside him at the thought of Lady Lise.

She had claimed she had no choice, that circumstances forced her actions. But looking at these remains, it was obvious that everything she said was a lie. There was no accident or coincidence in her deeds.

‘It was all intentional!’

Azadine scowled and began consecrating the corpse.

“O Archangels of Wisdom, Courage, and Mercy, have pity. Guide the soul of this unfortunate one, who met an untimely death, to their destined path.”

And at that moment—