Chapter 34: The Young Fox of the Holy Cross

The golden-eyed swordsman’s blade was never known for its raw power, and now, split into seven phantoms, its strength was further diluted. Against Winigo’s masterful defensive swordplay, his blade struggled to find any opportunity to deal a telling blow to Winigo’s vitals. Thus, his attacks failed to pose any true threat.

Without defeating Winigo, he could not strike at the target under Winigo’s “Guardian” skill—Sophie. And Sophie, in turn, had set her sights on Yaga, who had lost the Royal Shield.

Yaga had only a moment to gamble everything, raising his hand to unleash a spell at the charging Sophie. A cloud of black poison surged forth—the most practical of the basic dark magic attacks: Cloud of Death.

Unlike the four elements, the powers of darkness were shared between magic and divine arts alike.

Unfortunately, Yaga’s command of dark power was far from masterful. His Cloud of Death accomplished little, and Winigo was still present.

Guardian...

He raised his broadsword, absorbing the brunt of the Cloud of Death’s magic. Winigo’s face turned green, but he swiftly recovered.

Such magic, dark though it was, lacked the potency to inflict grievous harm at Yaga’s level.

“Embrace,” Winigo murmured.

A faint glow shimmered over him, and a surge of holy power blossomed outward, soothing the area around him. This energy could heal minor wounds and significantly alleviate adverse conditions such as poisoning or curses.

Yet it was not omnipotent—it could only weaken such effects, not immediately cure them if they were too severe.

Still, it sufficed.

Winigo drove his broadsword into the ground before him, and the lingering sacred power exploded in a brilliant burst.

Without a word, Sophie abandoned her immediate target and turned to stand behind Winigo. Her greatsword met the golden-eyed swordsman’s lunge head-on.

Attack and defense had shifted. The divine force unleashed from Winigo’s sword sketched a vast cross, its sacred aura surging powerfully outward. From above, it appeared as a massive silver-white cross, radiating instantly.

Yaga and Chibing were caught at once, and the golden-eyed swordsman was within the cross’s reach as well. With a cry, they collapsed under the force of the holy flames.

The Holy Cross was not famed for its destructive power; rather, it released the paladin’s strength in a flash, converting it into holy damage.

In this world, there was no such attribute; the closest equivalent lay in the offensive powers of Light magic and divine arts. Dark mages and dark priests were clearly ill-equipped to resist it.

Winigo’s power, while not overwhelming, was more than enough to dispatch a wounded Yaga and the frail Chibing. Only the golden-eyed swordsman might have withstood the blow—but Sophie was more than his match.

“Well then, Sister Yarol, you are safe for now,” Winigo said, bowing to the elven mage whose age was anyone’s guess.

Yarol hesitated for a long moment before finally speaking. “Little Fox, would you... trouble yourselves to escort me to White Hat Town?”

“Of course, but I’ll still need to collect a fee,” Winigo replied with a smile.

...

White Hat Town, the castle of Sir Anthony Stone.

“This is indeed a holy emblem. However, it is not the one I require,” the kingdom’s High Archbishop said, shaking his head and tossing the emblem in his hand. “If it were my god’s emblem, I would have kept it. If it were the symbol of an evil god, I would destroy it. But this... belongs only to a weak divinity and holds no real value. Does anyone want it?”

Winigo raised his hand.

The High Archbishop tossed it to him without a second thought. Winigo bowed slightly and accepted it without hesitation.

“I’ve already paid you. Now, Sophie, you’ve done much for me; what sort of reward do you desire this time?” The High Archbishop turned to the stoic young woman with the greatsword.

“I think you should get a new sword,” Winigo muttered under his breath.

“A greatsword? Our bishops and warriors rarely wield such weapons. However, I believe I have one in my treasury,” Sir Anthony Stone mused. “The little girl has done much for me; gifting it to you is not overindulgence.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Sophie replied, stepping forward to bow.

“Well then... Elf, you brought me the holy emblem, so I should reward you,” the High Archbishop continued. “The Merak team has long been in my service. It is fitting for you to claim this reward.”

He snapped his fingers, and a priest appeared, carrying a gilded wooden chest.

Honey did not receive anything, but Sir Anthony Stone generously allowed her to use the chapel for prayer.

After bidding farewell to the slightly plump High Archbishop, Yarol announced she would remain to await the Merak team’s arrival. Winigo, meanwhile, was to set out for Misty Isle with Sophie and Honey.

Once aboard the ship, Winigo retreated to his small cabin to pray—after all, as the sole chosen of the Lord of Wishes, he did not wish to squander his daily blessing.

“All praise to you, O Great and Exalted One, who answers the prayers of the faithful. I pray: summon a useful pet.”

He thought he heard Sophie’s soft laughter, and a second later, an adorably clumsy baby whale materialized before him, landing squarely atop him.

It was, unmistakably, a baby whale. The trouble was, even “small” by whale standards, the calf still weighed nearly two hundred kilograms.

Winigo was nearly knocked out, but thanks to Sophie’s sense of proportion, the fall only left him badly squashed, not dead.

“Sophie, a little help,” Winigo had to call.

Sophie, greatsword slung across her back, entered from outside, eyeing the suddenly manifest whale calf in puzzlement. She drew her greatsword, pointing it at the still-dazed creature.

“My pet,” Winigo said quickly.

With Sophie’s help, Winigo finally managed to push the baby whale aside.

“Strange, doesn’t it mind being out of water? Oh, right—whales breathe with lungs.” Winigo poked the little whale, only to have it nuzzle him joyously, prompting him to back away in alarm.

Suddenly, the baby whale floated up, swaying gently as it “swam” through the air.

“What... is going on?” Winigo was stunned.

He focused on the whale, and with the Eye of Inquiry, which could see through all things given enough time and concentration, he probed further. The baby whale, apparently disliking the scrutiny, shook its head and drifted away.

Winigo did not pursue. He had learned what he needed: this was an Air-Sea Leviathan from the plane of Air, possessed of a single innate talent—an airborne version of Featherfall, vastly superior in effect, that allowed its immense mass to float freely like a balloon.

Its mass remained enormous, so although it could float, its speed in the air was slow. Only in water could it move like a torpedo, hunting massive sea beasts with ferocity.

This was only a calf, not yet with all its teeth, so one could not expect much combat power. Still, it had its floating ability from birth.

But... really, what was the use of such a pet?

Strictly speaking, the Air-Sea Leviathan was quite useful. At the very least, it made for a massive mode of transport, capable of slow flight through the air or rapid travel through water. Thanks to its special ability, even a newborn calf could carry three Winigos aloft—albeit at a tortoise’s pace.

“So this... is my magical companion,” Winigo mused, eyeing the baby whale. “Hmm, I should give you a name.”

How about “Sea King”?

...

Misty Isle.

Here resided Sir Albert Newton, the kingdom’s Chief Archmage—a seemingly muddle-headed and forgetful caster whose unpredictable actions never failed to surprise. No one, however, dared underestimate him.

The title of Chief Archmage was no mere flattery.

Winigo had always suspected the man was simply an old child, feigning madness by habit.

He leapt from the ship and walked along the quiet, gravel paths of Misty Isle, curiosity in his eyes as he surveyed this famed place for the first time.

A sanctuary for mages, Misty Isle was home to many resident spellcasters, including at least four master-level tutors capable of teaching high-level elemental magic—though never for free.

As for grandmaster-level elemental magic, one could study that too... but only after rendering sufficient service to Sir Albert Newton, who might then favor you with a letter of recommendation to learn the true essence of advanced elemental magic from senior scholars.

Winigo led the way. His baby whale trailed behind, floating unhurriedly with its massive bulk. Its new name was “Ramen,” and it wore a specially crafted harness beneath its belly, upon which hung the traveling gear of Winigo, Sophie, and Honey—four large expedition packs in all, as well as Winigo’s various personal equipment.

In addition, Ramen carried the self-propelled mechanical wooden horse. Though Ramen was barely two meters long, it bore over a ton in weight with ease.

Winigo’s pet was every bit as strange as its master.