I Became a Wendigo in a Fantasy World chapter 1

1 – Episode 1

Do you know about the creature called Wendigo?

Don’t worry if you don’t. The Wendigo is a creature known mostly by those deeply immersed in fantasy.

It is a type of spirit monster that originates from cold regions. Naturally, the reason it’s called a monster is because the Wendigo is an evil spirit.

Most people think of spirits as cute little helpers, primarily benevolent beings. Much like there aren’t only good people in the world, the same goes for spirits.

Among all the evil spirits, the Wendigo is a fairly peculiar kind – while it is indeed a spirit, it is also a physical entity.

The problem arises from the fact that it appears closer to a monster than a spirit.

The Wendigo is a monster with a skull of a deer worn as a mask, walking on two legs. No matter how open-minded a person, it would be tough to consider such a sight as that of a spirit.

Furthermore, according to legends, the Wendigo was of ill temper.

Living in the tough northern regions, it manipulated snow, frost, and cold to torment people and hunt those lost in the woods. It was unlikely for such an evil spirit to have a good disposition.

Even those who died in the forest were said to have their souls captured by the Wendigo and tormented – one needn’t say more.

Naturally, such tales held no relation to the everyday person. For them, the Wendigo was just another legend on Earth.

“The problem is that I’ve become the Wendigo.”

His reflection on the ice-clad river surface among the snow-covered woods was, undeniably, the Wendigo he learned about.

The only difference was that instead of wearing a deer skull, his head was covered in a shell resembling one.

He, or rather, the Wendigo, examined his hand. It was too large to be a human hand, and the sharp claws were disconcertingly gruesome.

Furthermore, instead of human legs, he had two reverse-jointed ones and a strangely slim but muscular body.

There wasn’t a single trace of humanity left. He wished it was all just a dream, but his consciousness was too clear.

The Wendigo sighed while looking at the sky.

“Couldn’t you have made me a dragon or a wyrm…”

While others became dragons or wyrms, mythical creatures that could destroy the world,

He had become the Wendigo.

Absolutely ill-fated.

* * *

The Wendigo quickly overcame his confusion. Regardless of how much he cried or raged, he couldn’t transform back into a human.

Contemplating on what to do next proved a hundred times more beneficial. Becoming a monster was sad, but he needed to survive first and foremost.

‘What I need to do right now is to adapt to this body… I must stay focused.’

Luckily, or at least so it seemed, moving the body was not uncomfortable.

Perhaps that was because the humanoid form, apart from the reverse-jointed legs, sharp nails, and the antler-like bones protruding from the head, was familiar.

‘Thankfully, I’m not a dragon or something… or maybe I’m not.’

Thinking positively, the Wendigo shook its head. Despite the comparisons, being a dragon would have been better.

It wandered aimlessly before stopping in front of a suitable tree. The tall and sturdy tree was a testament to the strength of nature itself.

Running its hand across the bark, it felt sturdy enough to serve as a worthy test subject.

It placed a nail on the surface, planning to test its strength and sharpness.

‘At least I am a legendary creature, I won’t be weak.’

Expecting to be as strong as a troll or an ogre was out of the question. Nevertheless, a monster’s dignity required at least the strength of a bear.

Even a bear or a tiger’s claw mark would have been sufficient. That much strength was more than enough to stand against any beast. Surviving from now required at least that much.

Half excited and half nervous, it carefully scratched the bark…

The nail sank into the wood as if it was sinking into tofu.

Not understanding the situation, the Wendigo blankly stared at its nail that melded with the tree.

After a few seconds, the Wendigo yanked out its nail in surprise. A hole appeared in the tree as if it had always been there.

It brushed its nail and checked the hole in the tree. Interestingly, frost seemed to have formed around the hole.

‘Is there a chill on my nails?’

Considering the Wendigo was a creature of legend, this peculiarity wasn’t so surprising. It swung its nail at the tree to confirm this.

There was a sound as if a chainsaw had just sliced wood. A clear mark appeared on the tree. Again, frost formed. The Wendigo marveled at itself.

What they called a mark was a third of the tree sliced clean off. That kind of force was beyond what a bear could muster.

‘Stronger than I thought, isn’t it?’

Even if it hadn’t swung at a living beast, any living creature’s skin or flesh would be softer compared to wood.

At least it wouldn’t be pushed around when facing animals unarmed.

Unable to contain its joy, it raised its fist. The problem, however, was that its height was about twice that of an adult male.

It gazed at its incoming fist towards the tree and let out an exclamation.

What a fool, to swing a fist towards a tree.

He scrunched his face in anticipation of the pain.

Crack!

“…Huh?”

But what hit his head was not pain, but a noise.

In fact, the sound of something breaking. There was no pain, so at least his hand shouldn’t be shattered…

He checked his fist. His fist was intact, but the tree was not.

The bark was burst and the wood split awkwardly.

A wound that would be hard to inflict even if he swung wildly at rotten wood remained vividly on the live tree.

He thought, blinking his eyes.

It wouldn’t be bad to live as a Wendigo instead of a dragon, he thought.

*****

The Wendigo could not deny it. His body clearly exceeded norm… it was exceptional. Not just exceptional, it was astonishingly exceptional.

He would meet a deer by chance and outpace it in a moment.

His steps shattered solid rocks in one go.

He could even move without making a sound, as a giant more than 3 meters tall. Even the deer he randomly met could not recognize him unless it breathed.

“There’s even an ability to control cold. My body doesn’t lack anything.”

The Wendigo clenched the ice sword in his hand. It was astonishing enough to shape a sword by controlling the cold, but the intensity of the ice was strong enough to withstand his monstrous strength.

After all, is the monster in the legend a monster? He swung his sword towards the tree. The sword instantly cut the tree in half.

At least when his fear of death from weakness disappeared, Wendigo gained confidence.

Yes, what does it matter if I’m a monster? Surviving is what’s important!

“Survival. Let’s say hunting enough beasts for food is manageable. But what about clothing and shelter?” He pondered, running his ice blade across his shoulder. Clothes didn’t concern him much; as long as they covered his lower body, they’d suffice. But shelter was of importance.

Whether this place was Earth or another world, he didn’t know, but he doubted the inhabitants would warmly welcome monsters. Thus, he’d have to hide thoroughly.

An ideal place would be a sizeable, cosy cave somewhere deep in the forest. Unless one was an extreme adventurer, they wouldn’t venture to such a place.

Resolved, Wendigo moved towards the rising slope. If this place were a hill or mountain, deep areas were likely towards that direction.

Lodging in the deep areas would relieve him of worrying about encountering humans. Hunger could be satisfied by hunting beasts or gathering fruits, and clothes could be sorted out with animal skins.

‘It’s a pretty decent plan,’ he concluded, satisfied with his calm judgment. Mid-stride, he heard the distant cry of a bear.

Wendigo paused, deliberating. Could he catch a bear right now?

The thought seemed sudden, but he never used his abilities against a living animal before. He had only regained consciousness in this world less than a day ago, so naturally.

If it’s something he has to do eventually, why not try now? Besides, if he could beat a bear, he could undoubtedly defeat weaker creatures.

‘I think I can do it.’ He was strong, and he could make weapons. Hunting a bear seemed feasibly easy. If things went wrong, he could always run.

He reshaped the blade in his hand into a spear, followed the source of the sound, and dashed into the forest.

How long he had run, passing by trees, he didn’t know. He spotted the bear. It was a fair distance away, but he could clearly see the bear’s back.

He had never hunted before, but from various videos, games, and books, he had learnt the element of surprise was key, especially striking from behind, which would be lethal for both beasts and humans. He raised his spear, aiming at the bear.

‘Will this work? I’ve never thrown a spear before.’ Guided by an unknown nervousness, he positioned himself. Just yesterday, he was an ordinary modern man; why would he have ever thrown a spear? Perhaps it would have been better to approach silently from behind and strike.

After a moment of hesitation, Wendigo decided to just go ahead and throw it. In a situation where fights could potentially continue. So what if he missed a little? What he needed right now was experience. If he could accumulate experience, missing with a spear once or twice didn’t matter. He dispensed with his hesitation and threw the spear.

Of course, his spear was no ordinary spear. It was over three meters in length to match his height, and the spearhead was sharp and large. It was closer to a ballista than a spear.

With Wendigo’s monstrous strength added, the spear literally tore through the air.

The spear boasted amazing precision and impaled the bear in one try.

“aaah!!!”

“Good. I got…it?”

Delighted by the piercing shriek, Wendigo soon realized something was off.

Did the bear…scream like a woman?

That was impossible. Even the deer, which were said to scream like humans, couldn’t make such a clear and beautiful shriek. Far away, as the bear toppled and fell, someone was visible in front of the bear.

It was a woman. No matter how much he denied it or blinked his eyes, the clear image of a woman was imprinted in his eyes.

Wendigo let out a silent exclamation.

“Damn it.”

To be more precise, he exclaimed a curse.

Clearly, the determination not to be seen by someone seemed to have been twisted from the first day.