Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage

Chapter 174: The Truth in the Folktale

CH174 The Truth in the Folktale

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The Wendigo, in its death, left behind its Spirit Antlers—offered to Alex as thanks for releasing its offspring from torment.

Alex smiled as the creature’s remnant essence faded from existence, its otherworldly presence dissolving into the cold air, leaving only the ethereal antlers cradled in his palms.

’Thank goodness the plan worked.’

His bravado faded as he heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

’Good thing I read all those miscellaneous documents back at the Enclave... the law of cliché saves the day again.’

He turned the antlers slowly in his hand, their mist-like glow pulsing gently.

’To think that ridiculous folktale was actually true.’

He remembered it well. A tattered old diary tucked away in the miscellaneous section of the Enclave’s Library. He’d skimmed it while setting up the Rune-Net—one of the many half-useful references he’d casually absorbed and stored in memory.

The diary belonged to a travelling bard. Once a retainer in noble service, the man had abandoned the life in his middle age, choosing to wander the world instead. In his journeys, he gathered tales—some true, most half-true, many absurd—and traded them for coin and lodgings in village after village.

One such tale stood out.

In a remote hamlet, the bard heard a story about a villager who had rescued a young wounded, humanoid creature from the edge of the woods. The villager nursed the being back to health and, when it recovered, released it back into the forest.

A few days later, the creature returned—this time accompanied by a larger, adult version of itself. The villager braced for death, understanding that he had unwittingly come in contact with a young Wendigo.

But instead, the adult Wendigo simply stared and pointed silently at the man’s skull.

Then it left.

Years later, when the villager had a child, the adult Wendigo returned once more—this time bearing the Spirit Antlers of a deceased Wendigo. It presented them to the child and vanished.

That child, as the tale went, became the first Warlock ever born in that village.

The bard had dismissed the story, noting it down as a folktale. After all, it was common knowledge that Wendigoes were fiercely xenophobic. Encounters usually ended with blood, not gifts. And Spirit Antlers were sacred to them—more prized than ancestral heirlooms among human nobility.

The idea of one willingly handing over such a treasure was absurd.

But Alex had noticed something the average reader wouldn’t have. In a faint scribble tucked in a corner of the diary page—something he would’ve missed without the enhanced vision of his Truth-Seeker Eyes—was a personal note.

A name wasn’t given, but the bard hinted at discovering the identity of that child-turned-Warlock. The reverence in his tone suggested the individual had grown into a figure of incredible power and significance.

That entry changed everything for Alex.

It convinced him that the bard had come to believe in the story after all—but chose to pass it off as fiction to protect the village... or perhaps to discourage idiots from chasing Wendigoes for their antlers.

After all, it was well known:

You couldn’t take a Wendigo’s Spirit Antlers by force. They had to choose to give them up.

And they almost never did—especially not in captivity.

There was no known method to convince or coerce them otherwise.

Until now.

This folktale presented a viable method—one that, if known, could make humans the Wendigoes’ public enemy number one.

The Bard, who had once worked for nobles, had witnessed the true face of greed among them. He knew just how far the nobles would go to get what they desired.

It wouldn’t be long before the method backfired—turning the Wendigoes not just wary, but actively hostile toward humanity.

So, the Bard buried the knowledge, convinced that anyone pure-hearted enough to use the method properly wouldn’t need to be told about it beforehand in the first place.

Seeing Daddy Golden Energy coil around the Wendigo Spirit’s antlers reminded Alex of the tale.

Sensing the grief and fury in the creature, Alex made a decision.

He didn’t need to fight it—especially not if doing so meant risking Udara and Fen against a Wendigo already half-consumed by death.

He could hold out. Surviving until the Wendigo’s soul burned out on its own.

But judging from Fen and Udara’s reaction to a [Soul Howl] one of the more basic attacks of the Wendigo in its current state, Alex didn’t believe it wise to risk a fight with it.

But getting the Wendigo to listen- and give up fighting? That was the real challenge.

The Wendigo believed he was looking at the one who murdered its child. No grieving parent—human or otherwise—would calmly listen under such belief.

Which was why Alex revealed one of his most powerful cards: Dragon Tongue.

Dragons were revered—or feared, depending on who one asked—all across the continent of Arun.

Whether intelligent beings or dull monster, all knew better than to provoke a Dragon unless absolutely necessary.

By speaking the Dragon Tongue, Alex forced the Wendigo to hesitate. It had to pause. To think. He’d evoked the might of a proverbial tiger (dragon) to frighten the forest into silence.

The Wendigo was compelled to consider Alex’s connection to Dragons. After all, the tongue was not something an ordinary being could imitate. It required a Draconic Bloodline, a powerful Spirit, and a tremendous well of mana.

Alex had consumed an Elder Dragon’s Blood Essence and Heart to refine his body and harmonise his two bloodlines. When those bloodlines later fused during his True Name awakening, the leftover draconic essence had been drawn into the fusion.

The result? His new fused bloodline now possessed subtle Draconic traits.

It wasn’t a dominant part of him. More like a silent partner. But it was there. Enough to let him skirt the Draconic bloodline requirement.

Add to that his personal identity as a True Disciple under the tutelage of an Ancient Dragon—an identity recognised by the World Consciousness—it made learning the language much easier.

His Spirit was already of high calibre, leaving his mana pool as the only bottleneck.

Even then, the Dragon Tongue’s cost was steep. Alex could only manage about a dozen sentences before his reserves would tap out completely.

Yes, it was that mana-intensive.

But he didn’t need many words to prove his point.

The Wendigo, startled by the display, regained enough clarity to listen—at least partially.

And that fragile moment of understanding was all Alex needed.

What followed next... was a gamble.

**