Chương 149: Chapter 147 – A Spirit?

A strange scene unfolded inside a tent thick with the scent of herbs, dried blood, and smoke. An old woman, the village witch doctor, knelt before a steel helmet, her hands hovering over it as she muttered unintelligible words. Her eyes shimmered with an eerie light, and the piece of metal beneath her seemed to respond.

"You can hear me? Understand me?"

"The spirit is trying to speak..."

"So... you can't actually understand me?" Rusty was the so-called spirit. He had been pulled from a nearby lake after plunging down a waterfall while fleeing a wyvern's fiery breath. Now, he found himself in a barbarian village that looked nothing like the stories told by humanoids, and to make matters worse, this old woman had mistaken him for some kind of ghost.

'She can't really understand me, but she hears me?' He was not sure why she could not grasp what he was trying to say. Maybe the inner voice he used to communicate with his guides and with Gleam did not work the same way as speech when channeled through a possessed body. Or perhaps there was something flawed in whatever magic she used to hear him. Either way, one thing was certain: he had been discovered, and he was in serious danger. The witch doctor leaned closer, eyes narrowed in reverence, or was it suspicion?

Rusty could not tell from her expression, even though her face was directly in front of him. Her breath drifted over his helmet as she whispered again.

"Not bound. Not cursed. And yet, alive. You are no spirit born of these lands." She reached for a thin dagger carved from bone and pricked her finger, letting a drop of blood fall onto one of the sigils surrounding Rusty's head. It hissed against the stone, steam curling into the air. Rusty tensed. That was not normal. Some kind of magic was trying to seep into him, and he did not like the feeling it gave him. A pale blue aura rippled through the tent.

She was trying to do something to him, something that he felt that he needed to resist.

"Oh spirit, accept this offering of blood." He had no idea what was happening, but the strange magic was trying to take hold of him. It crept toward him like mist beneath a door, probing and pressing into the edges of his mind and core. He felt it slither along the barriers of his being, searching for an opening. It was not forceful in the way the dungeon's domination had once been. This felt more like a request. A ritual. An attempt to bind. His helmet began to react.

The symbols etched into the stone around him started to smoke as if they were pushing back against something. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the sigils flared and vanished in a puff of smoke. The witch doctor gasped and pulled her hand back, clutching it to her chest as if it had been scorched.

"Was the blood not enough?" She whispered, her eyes wide. Her expression had shifted from curiosity to concern. Rusty had experienced something like this before. He wasn't sure, but the title of 'Unbound' seemed to protect him from her spell. Whatever magic she had used could not take hold of him. He would not be controlled easily, not even by someone much stronger than him. And by the amount of mana she radiated, this woman was certainly more powerful than most D-ranked individuals he had encountered.

The witch doctor stared at the fading sigils, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her gaze shifted back to his helmet, and this time her look carried real annoyance. She rose slowly, the pain in her pricked finger forgotten, and began rummaging through a bundle of leather-wrapped pouches hanging from a wooden rack. The sound of clinking glass and the faint chime of bone talismans filled the tent. Rusty knew this was bad. She was not giving up.

That ritual had not just been to speak with a spirit, it had been an attempt to take control of him. He did not know exactly how it worked, but one thing was certain: the longer he remained here, the more his life was at risk. If the witch doctor realized he was not a spirit but a monster, she would either destroy him or bind him completely. It was possible she had used the wrong spell for the bonding, and once she uncovered his true nature, he would become a slave again.

"This spirit must be special. I need to prepare a better offering." She turned back to him, now holding three objects: a bone flute, a vial of thick black liquid, and a jagged piece of obsidian wrapped in something he could not identify. Rusty had no idea what these items were for, but the woman clearly believed they would help her forge some kind of contract with him.

"I must prepare." Fortunately, the process would take time. Instead of staying in the room with him, she disappeared into one of the side compartments of the tent or hut they were in. He could see her moving in the shadows, tinkering with the items, likely preparing them for her next attempt to bind him. Now, for the first time, he was alone. He had to use this opportunity to escape. His original plan had been to wait until sunset and leave under the cover of darkness using his physical body.

But now that plan was no longer an option. He needed to get out of here immediately.

'Using my full body won't be an option, but I can use it as a distraction…' His SP had recharged enough for him to restore his body and switch to a different loadout. At this point, there was only one viable option and that was, his smallest form. Any of his regular forms would be too easily detected if he stepped outside the witch doctor's tent. He activated the skill, and his helmet began to shrink. Some of the leftover steel in his storage was drawn out, reshaping his body from scratch.

He could only hope that the magically inclined woman would not notice the transformation. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Switching loadouts and repairing did not emit mana, so in his mind, it was a sound plan. That thought gave him some comfort as his new, miniaturized form took shape. In seconds, he had become a miniaturised bobblehead suit of armor, the size of a goblin child. It was time to move.

'I need to go, but first!' As he prepared to leave, he decided it was best to buy himself a bit more time. From his inventory, he pulled out a helmet identical to the one the witch doctor had seen him as and placed it carefully on the spot where he previously occupied. He knew the deception would not hold for long. The woman could sense mana in objects, and the illusion would likely break within a minute or two. Still, that brief delay might be all he needed to get away.

He jumped down from the strange ritual stone where he had been placed. As he landed, a soft metallic clink echoed through the tent. He froze, turning his head toward the side compartment where the witch doctor had disappeared, wondering if he would need to flee. There was silence. followed by a muffled chant. The witch doctor was still deep in her ritual, murmuring words he could not understand. She seemed unaware of what had just happened.

The coast was clear, but before he made his escape, there was still something he needed to do.

'I need to take my body with me.' Fortunately, the rest of his body was still intact, and with some of his remaining SP, he quickly stored it back into his system storage. While doing so, he set one of his gauntlets aside and began detaching the fingers, taking all five with him. Then, one of the fingers was placed on the ground before leaving. With everything in place, he drew a knife and pressed it against the fabric of the tent. The blade slipped through the material, cutting a narrow opening.

His escape was ready to begin. He quietly slipped through the small slit he'd cut into the side of the witch doctor's tent, the canvas parting just enough for his miniature frame to squeeze through. Outside, the barbarian camp was bathed in the warm glow of sunlight. Smoke rose from fire pits, the sounds of conversation and laughter echoed in the distance, and the scent of roasted meat lingered in the air.

He darted behind a stack of firewood, then slipped beneath a drying rack strung with animal hides, using the shadows to conceal his small form. The barbarians nearby seemed too preoccupied as some were eating, others were tending to wounded warriors, and were too busy to notice anything out of place. To them, there was nothing unusual in the encampment, nothing worth investigating. As long as the old woman stayed silent, he would have a clean escape. Still, Rusty was cautious.

He left himself some room to adapt by placing another detached finger behind him before moving on, crawling carefully through the gaps between tents and crates. Without Gleam there to cast a silence spell, he had to move carefully. His ability to hide within shadows was useless under the open sun, and sunlight bathed nearly every part of the camp. Still, if he could absorb enough of it, he might be able to use the same escape ability that had landed him in this situation in the first place.

He wanted to reach out to his guides for help, but with a magic user nearby who was sensitive to spirits, any attempt at communication might draw her attention. Eventually, he made his way toward the center of the camp. From here, he could see it clearly. These people didn't seem too concerned about potential attacks from orcs or other humanoids. The entire camp appeared temporary—tents that could be taken down quickly, fire pits built from loose stones gathered nearby.

Despite the crude and minimal setup, the people here looked content. Happier, even, than the residents of the more advanced settlement he was living in. And he wasn't sure why.

'Humanoids are strange…' There were no merchants here to barter with. No guards patrolled with polished weapons or crested armor. Just people. Some were scarred and weathered by battle. Others were young and laughing freely, living in this mountain wilderness on their own terms. Rusty paused and watched a child toss a stick to a shaggy dog. Both were unaware of the tension simmering just beyond the tents. The moment was peaceful, almost serene, yet the air carried a quiet weight.

Beneath the surface, danger lingered. A little farther off, he noticed the covered bodies of several barbarians laid out in a silent corner of the camp. Not all had survived. Some of the dead looked like malnourished slaves, their bodies thin and frail, stripped of strength and dignity. This place seemed peaceful, but Rusty knew the truth. Without real power, there could be no true peace.

The Orc raids were a constant threat, but if they ended, he was certain the corrupt noble he had encountered would quickly bring ruin to these people. His journey through the encampment was nearly complete. Only a few tents stood between him and the pine trees beyond the camp's borders. Once he reached the forest, he could vanish into the wilderness and decide his next move. But, as usual, his luck was about to run out.

Just as he was about to duck behind one of the tents and wait for a clear chance to run, the witch doctor burst out of her tent.

"The spirit escaped! Find it!" Her voice cracked through the air like a whip. In an instant, the entire camp reacted. Children froze in place. The Warriors dropped their meals. Weapons clattered as barbarians jumped to their feet. Rusty didn't wait for them to organize. He triggered his backup plan without hesitation. With a silent command, he activated the hidden fingers. One of the hidden fingers detonated inside the witch doctor's tent.

The blast rippled outward, knocking the old woman off her feet and sending her crashing face-first onto his helmet replica she had been holding. A second explosion erupted where Rusty had previously hidden, stirring more confusion. Then a third blast ignited near a group of tethered horses. The startled animals reared up and bolted, snapping their reins and galloping through the camp. Several warriors were forced to break off and chase after them.

Amid the chaos, Rusty slipped away in the opposite direction, unseen and unhindered. He sprinted, his tiny metal feet tapping lightly across the ground as panicked warriors rushed toward the source of the explosions. Soon, he made it beyond the edge of the camp and continued running, hoping to disappear into the wilderness unnoticed. But then, a shout rang out.

"There! Something small, like a goblin!" They had spotted him. His hope of gaining enough ground before being discovered was dashed. With his small form, he could have buried himself somewhere and waited them out, but now it was too late. Switching to a larger, faster body was pointless. With this many enemies behind him, he would be overwhelmed quickly. And to make matters worse, the witch doctor was among them, leading the pursuit with fury in her eyes, still maddened by the explosion inside of her residence.

'Are there any cliffs I can throw myself off?' He scanned the area, but there was no steep terrain in sight. Worse yet, he had not absorbed enough sunlight to trigger his escape skill. Things were beginning to look grim. However, out of nowhere, something appeared on his system screen. A name that had previously been greyed out flickered to life.

'Huh?' He kept running, heart pounding, if he had one, until something shot toward him from the front. It moved faster than a horse, faster even than the highest-ranking barbarians in pursuit. It was Gleam and she was flying.

"Gleam?" He called out.

"(•̀ - •́)" Came the reply. Her silvery form shimmered in the sunlight, brighter than ever. But something about her had changed. Four semi-transparent appendages extended from her sides, fluttering rapidly in the air. They looked like insect wings, she had evolved and had come to save him…