The Wandsmith [LitRPG, Isekai, Harem]

77. Ike



Ori woke to the warmth of a sleeping Ruenne'del curled up beside him, her bare feet stretched towards the fire's dying embers, her head resting on his stomach. Her soft breaths rose and fell in rhythm with his own, the ghost of warmth from their shared body heat lingering against the morning chill.

The fire had long since reduced to embers. Above them, the realm's equivalent of daylight seeped through the dense forest canopy, casting a pale glow over the snow-dusted earth.

Ori let himself wake, taking a few moments to sort through his thoughts, a small smile tugging at his lips as he relived the memories of his dream walks. Poppy had kept her promise—their training in Void Dancing had turned into an entirely different kind of dance. Meanwhile, his time with Raven had been something he hadn't realised he needed—a reminder of home, of normality, even amidst the chaos of his current life.

'Freya, I'm up. If you'd like to take a rest.'

Freya buzzed lazily around him, 'Wake me when you reach Ike,' she yawned, before vanishing inside his skull, retreating into the depths of his soulspace.

Stretching out his limbs, Ori carefully extracted himself from beneath Ruenne'del before moving to store the rest of the reindeer carcass inside his Void Storage Ring. With Lysara following deep underground and Freya sound asleep, the two of them set off towards the valley.

Their walk was quiet—unsurprising, given that Ori's overwhelming Presence likely still affected the wildlife, making even the smallest creatures keep their distance. When he wasn't actively controlling his emotions, the subtle effect of his power rippled unconsciously, pushing the natural world away from him. Ruenne'del had taken it upon herself to teach him better control, their conversations drifting between expressions and practical application as they walked.

Yet, through their bond, Ori could feel her general mood—calm, content, never pressing for conversation when it wasn't needed.

He, on the other hand, often found himself lost in thought, drinking in the serene landscape, marvelling at a world that felt so full of limitless possibilities.

It wasn't long before they reached the top of a valley ridge, the forest falling away steeply below them.

Nestled in the clearing of a floodplain, a small village lay several miles beneath them, cradled by the twisting bends of a narrow river. A thin column of smoke rose from the only brick-and-mortar building. The village below, which Ori believed was called Ike, felt isolated, seemingly cut off from civilisation. Situated over a hundred miles from Ghigrerchiax, the former infernal prison at the very edge of the realm, it was the closest settlement regardless of the direction of travel.

With no visible roads and no signs of industry beyond that solitary wisp of smoke, Ori could only imagine what a lifetime spent here would be like—what kind of people chose this existence or had no choice but to live it.

Ori took a deep breath before nudging his familiar awake. "Freya, we're near the village." As she stirred, he turned to the fairy princess at his side. "What do you think, Rue?"

She smiled. "I don't understand why you're so excited."

Ori shrugged, hesitant to reveal the true reason.

By the time they reached the clearing at the village's edge, it was lunchtime. The surrounding land, stretching one to two hundred metres around the settlement, was a patchwork of wild grasses and farmland. Horses and cows grazed together, unbothered by each other—or by the new arrivals.

As Ori scanned the area, his gaze landed on a young boy, his cloven feet marking him as a satyr. The child darted into a nearby shack, his faint calls of excitement—or alarm—drifting on the wind, signalling that Ori and Rue had been noticed.

"What can I do you for?" A craggy voice called out from a distance.

A satyr, likely the boy's father, emerged from behind a fence, gripping an actual pitchfork. His stony glare made it clear that they were not welcome. His furred legs were thick with dust, his broad shoulders wrapped in a coarse, patched wool cloak. Deer-like horns protruded from a greying mop, his expression one of suspicion hardened by years of caution.

"Hi, yeah, just passing through. Looking to trade—some food, a place to stay for the night, and, erm… some information." Ori stopped about twenty yards away, noting how more faces appeared and vanished behind shutters, the village retreating inward as if bracing for a storm.

The village itself was a scattering of wooden cottages built from rough-hewn logs and stone foundations. The only brick-and-mortar structure stood near the centre, likely an inn or gathering hall. A small river cut beside the settlement, its banks lined with fishing nets and drying racks. The smell of fresh earth, livestock, and woodsmoke hung in the crisp air.

"Information? What kind of information?"

"We're with the Summons Guild. I believe there have been reports of monsters—or Aether-warped beasts—in the area. We're here to find out more."

The farmer's eyes narrowed. "You've come from the south?"

Ori hesitated. Something about the man's tone put him on edge. "Yeah?"

"So, you aren't with them? The flesh traders?"

"No. You mean the infernals? Fuck no. Any information you have on their whereabouts would be appreciated, too."

The farmer grunted, then gestured at Rue. "Does she speak?"

Rue met his gaze evenly. "I do."

"What are the Seelie doing in these parts?"

"As he said—Guild business."

The farmer held her stare for a moment longer, then turned away. "Come, then. I'll take you to see the hunter."

They followed the satyr farmer to a modest homestead, where the village hunter was already waiting by a chopping block, sharpening an axe. His piercing gaze flicked over Ori and Rue as they approached—but instead of the usual wariness of strangers, there was something more.

He was a grizzled elven man, his face weathered and lean, like dried leather stretched over sharp bones. His scarred hands, lined with old burns and knife cuts, worked methodically as he honed the blade. A cloak of wolf pelts draped over his shoulders, its edges ragged from years of use. His long, greying hair was tied back loosely, revealing long ears, and sharp, calculating eyes that measured them with the precision of a man accustomed to tracking prey and spotting weakness. The high elven hunter's grip tightened on the axe handle.

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Ori felt the weight of scrutiny pressing down on him, the way the hunter's Nascent-rank aura flared, testing, prodding. Ori's rank was the same, but the difference in Presence was staggering. Even with Harriet's Soulcraft masking it, there was no hiding the latent force of his existence—bound by Taurna'diem, his connections to elven royalty rippled beneath the surface like an undercurrent, and the hunter—whether through hardwired instincts or experience—sensed it.

"What are ya?"

Ori frowned. "What do you mean?"

The elven man's gaze searched his face, lingering on his ears, his shimmering eyes, flickered down to his feet, then back up, suspicion etching deeper lines into his already weathered face.

"You human? Fae? Some mudblood?" The hunter's gaze drifted down to Ori's feet as if searching for some obvious giveaway.

"Fae-touched human, I think." Ori hedged, ignoring the man's unfriendly interrogation for now.

The hunter tilted his head, gesturing towards Rue. "Her doing?"

"No. Why do you ask?" Ori replied

"Just curious. Rare to see humans in these parts, unless they're with the traders. Even rarer to see one of the seelie."

"They said them be with the guild." The farmer interjected, suspicion tinting his voice.

"Oh. Got any proof?" The hunter asked. Ori turned to Rue. Holding out her palm, she held out a gold and glass medallion that emanated with a tangible aura. Ori turned back to the hunter, the furrows in his eyebrows easing as he recognised the token.

"Fair enough. I've got it from here Riddy." The elven hunter said in dismissal, their interaction likely reflecting the power dynamics of an awakened amongst mortals.

Ori watched the farmer turn away before circling the conversation back. "You said traders? You thought we were the Flesh traders? They're slavers, aren't they?"

The hunter let out a dry chuckle. "Nah. Slavers suggest they mean to keep 'em. They don't keep 'em."

Ori grimaced. "Right. Well, yeah. I'm Ori. I'm looking for any information you have on Aether-warped creatures. And the infernals, for that matter."

The hunter scratched his unshaven jaw, giving Ori another hard once over. "Name's Horace. Aye… I've got a bit to tell ya on both counts." Horace let out a slow exhale as he leaned against the chopping block. "Hunting's been getting harder. Season after season, it's worse."

"Oh yeah?"

"Merchants stopped last year, Used to send pelts, dried meat, even antlers downriver. Got a fair bit in return. But since the last caravan never came back… I decided not to risk breaking out to the larger settlements. Not worth it, not with the way things are now."

Ori glanced towards Rue, who remained impassive.

"And now monsters?" Ori asked.

Horace grunted. "Aye. Spotted my first Aether-twisted bear a month back. Greater ranker, almost got me. Big bastard—half-twisted but still moving, claws like knives. I was lucky it couldn't climb trees anymore."

Ori frowned. "How near? Have you seen any more?"

"First and only time was within this valley. But since that bear, hunting's been scarce. Game's either gone or turned. The village has suffered for it."

"Any idea where they're coming from?"

Horace shook his head. "That's the thing—I'd think there'd be a nest, but it doesn't feel like just one. They come from all over. East, west, even from the north. But not from the south."

Ori exchanged a glance with Rue. Not from the south. The direction where Ghigrerchiax once stood.

"And the flesh traders?" Ori asked. "Still a problem?"

Horace's eyes hardened. "Scattered. Haven't seen a sign of 'em since last season."

"They never came through here?"

A shadow passed over the hunter's face. "Likely took Old Marla," he admitted. "She went missing last winter—rest her soul. Wouldn't be the first time one of ours disappeared without a trace. But since the traders stopped, there's been no more missing."

Ori let the information settle before changing the subject. "Is there anywhere to stay?"

Horace nodded towards the centre of the village. "Longhouse, next to the hall. Acts like an inn. Headman Jasson is the man to see for that."

"Got it," Ori said.

Horace studied him a moment longer. "I could guide you if you want. Through the forests. I know these lands better than anyone, and you lot, no offence, don't look much for tracking and hunting."

Ori hesitated, appreciating the offer but knowing it was impractical for various reasons. "Thanks, but we'll manage."

Horace didn't press, but his doubtful expression made it clear he didn't approve. "Kids these days. Suit yourself." The hunter muttered.

Ori nodded. "Anything else we should know?"

Horace shifted his weight, then frowned. "Aye. About five days ago, we heard a loud bang—echoing across the valley. Might've come from the south. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Ori and Rue exchanged knowing looks.

"Do the words volcanic eruption mean anything to you?" Ori offered.

"Aye. Didn't think much of it at the time," Horace admitted. "Did you see it?"

"Saw the ash, from a few days back south."

"Figured it was a landslide or distant storm. But now, with everything else…" Horace shook his head.

"Yeah, I get you. Anyway, thanks. Your information is appreciated."

Horace gave a final grunt of acknowledgement before returning to his axe, scraping the sharpened edge against the worn leather of his belt as Ori and Rue left the hut.

Ori had just finished wrapping the leftover tent canvas from his paraglider over a mound of hay, marking their corner of the longhouse. The headman, the village leader, had been relatively welcoming after the tense but productive conversation with the local hunter and farmer.

Finding a Nascent Rank High Elf in these parts had been a surprise, but not one Ori found particularly unusual. Given the hunter's exploits—especially against the Aether-warped beasts—progression to at least that level seemed reasonable. The elven hunter was also likely the main reason why this small, seemingly defenceless town remained relatively unbothered by the Infernal Flesh Trade. A skilled, evolved Nascent Ranker would easily overwhelm almost anyone at their rank or below.

'What's the plan, Ori?' Freya asked silently over their bond.

Ori laughed aloud. "Going to have a look at my first patient, then have a wash in the river, some hot food, then sleep in that mound of hay—then have another wash in the river again in the morning. Surely, you've slept in worse places than this?"

Rue squinted at him in displeasure. "If the choice is between sleeping in a barn or not, I'd rather not." Rue said, for the first time in a while showcasing her royal upbringing.

Ori arched a brow. "What's the difference between this and the forest?"

"The fire kept the fleas away."

Ori shrugged. "Alright, well, Lysara will head out west overnight to scout. Once we find the first nest, or rift, we'll head out, deal with it, then return. We'll use this town as a base for the next few days, but be ready to leave as soon as we're no longer welcome."

A Sciuruqin—a Fae with squirrel-like features—sat on a rocking chair outside the back of the longhouse. Likely the headman's daughter, who also managed the lodging, she watched the valley in quiet contemplation.

Like the Vulpixin Ori had seen before, she appeared mostly human, save for buck teeth, and hazel-coloured fur around her head, tail, and ears. Her eyes followed the darkening horizon, where Twilight's celestial band deepened, shifting into night-time hues. Above, the evening's aurora shimmered, its colours growing ever more vibrant as the sky deepened into dusk.

"Da said you're a healer?" The girl's voice was bold and direct.

Ori nodded, Vision of the Progenitor flaring as he instinctively sought the source of her ailment. His frown deepened—his initial hope of treating a simple mortal illness in exchange for lodging faded with the dying light.

"Can you see what's wrong with me?"

Ori tried his best to keep his expression neutral as his gaze tracked the rampant damage Aether Warping was doing to both her body and soul.

"Yeah. But it might take me a little while to fix it."


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