Soon.

Aiven and the others understood from Nekado's slightly incoherent words what this "Childless Evil Spirit" really was.

To the pioneers, this land seemed vast and bountiful, practically a treasure trove.

But this didn't mean that all life here lived in paradise; the natives also experienced natural disasters, wars, and famines.

During the years of famine, the Atrean tradition was not to let their children starve with them but to drown them in the rivers.

Because legends said that children who drowned in the rivers would finally become river spirits—the beavers!

By gnawing on water plants, roots, and bark, their children could live on in another form.

This legend had been passed down for a long time, and many desperate mothers in that primitive world would do the same in helplessness.

However, as time went on.

More and more mothers, who had lost their children, also inevitably died in the famine, and their resentful souls slowly gathered into a regional evil spirit—"Childless Evil Spirit" Pocatello.

In fact, this was also the original name of the region before the arrival of the pioneers, according to the natives.

Moreover, as time passed, Pocatello's power seemed to grow stronger.

In recent years, it had appeared more and more frequently, and each occurrence resulted in a bloodbath, especially ruthless toward hunters who targeted beavers for their furs!

Because it firmly believed that those beavers were once its children.

However.

Unlike before, the scale and intensity of Pocatello's revenge this time were unprecedented.

Of those visible alone, there were already nearly thirty people; in the Northwest Fur Company or elsewhere, it was unknown how many victims there were.

Apparently, for some unknown reason, the power of this evil spirit had recently been enhanced, gradually evolving into a strange disaster in the Extraordinary World.

Nekado grew more terrified as he spoke, losing all the righteous ardor he had before setting out to help a friend, clearly having sobered up from the enchantment of the "perfect fur."

He moved his feet, quietly hiding behind Aiven, their side's Extraordinary.

"Pocatello...Pocatello..."

With the continuous chanting of the native tribal leader, Apsuova.

Suddenly, a mysterious wind swept over everyone's heads.

Rustle, rustle, rustle...

The tall broadleaf trees along the riverbanks constantly swayed, and the leaves, yellowed by late autumn, fluttered down in profusion.

It was already evening.

The setting sun cast long shadows in the dense forest, deepening them, and gradually extending from the opposite riverbank, covering a large portion of the riverbend, as well as where everyone stood.

And the water in this river finally reacted, with small waves rippling as a thick fog gradually gathered on the river's surface, rising and spreading.

A cold and eerie atmosphere slowly enveloped the entire river beach.

"Sss... sss..."

In the fog, there seemed to be a weak patient struggling to breathe, and vaguely, there could also be heard a few feather-light cries of infants.

Though the sound was faint, it seemed to arise from within each person's heart, sharp and piercing, like nails scratching a blackboard, making everyone's nerves tremble.

In mysticism, everyone's name holds special significance and even power; some beings have unique true names known only to them worldwide.

Eastern "Book of Baize" spells of calling and expelling ghosts work this way, as do witchcraft and shamanism.

"POCATELLO!!!"

At this moment, Apsuova pounded his staff heavily on the ground, shouting loudly once again.

The mist quickly dissipated in the shadows cast by the forest.

Exposing a terrifying figure before everyone.

Emaciated to the point of being unrecognizable, impossible to tell gender.

The body was extremely withered, describing it as skin and bones would be generous.

The short body seemed coated in thick plaster from head to toe, eerily white.

Only the palms were entirely black.

Its body was wrapped in a large, dirty robe as if dug from the earth, utterly unfitting. The patterns were completely mottled, indistinguishable as to which era they belonged.

The "Childless Evil Spirit's" head slightly turned to "look" at the people on the riverbank.

The deeply sunken eye sockets were surrounded by cracked lines, encircling the dark, hollow void without eyes.

Within seemed to be a bottomless abyss where dozens or hundreds of women's souls, already turned to starved corpses, wailed and sank.

Anyone daring to meet its gaze would be immediately flooded with fantasies, hearing repeated calls of "Child!" "Child!" by their ears.

Those with unstable wills might even step into the cold river water, trying to join this "mother."

For instance... Chief Nekado.

Initially intoxicated by the allure of the "perfect beaver hide," recklessly coming here personally.

Now faced directly with the source, how could he have any resistance?

He merely took one step forward.

And was instantly knocked unconscious by Aiven, who stood beside him, clutching his nape.

With a "thud!" he dropped to the ground.

No further trouble for others, a cause to celebrate indeed.

Apsuova, facing the evil spirit directly, paid no heed to the commotion behind him; once more, he firmly stamped his white oak staff, growling lowly:

"Pocatello! Evil Spirit, cease your actions! This is not the place you should be!"

The evil spirit turned its face toward Apsuova's direction.

Its withered lips parted slightly, revealing blackened, decayed teeth inside, as if in a silent sneer.

Sss—!

And they easily understood its meaning, everyone who dared to harm its "children"... must die!

It was evident that this increasingly powerful evil spirit had begun to take on certain characteristics of an evil spirit, such as strictly adhering to a predetermined set of rules when killing.

However, no one could be certain whether this evil spirit, which had recently surged in power for unknown reasons, would target those who dared to hunt beaver pelts in the future or if it would retaliate against everyone who had ever hunted beaver pelts.

It was known that beaver pelts, as a mainstay of the fur trade, were far more valuable than others such as white-tailed deer pelts or buffalo hides...

Moreover, the difficulty of hunting them was less than the latter two; as long as one wasn't afraid of the cold river water, it was always possible to have some harvest.

As a result, every hunter in the New Continent, to some extent, had hunted beaver pelts.

And these hunters within the original Pocatello region almost entirely encompassed every adult male of the native tribes!

Furthermore.

In terms of the largest indigenous group active in this area, it was, of course, the Yucatan Tribe where Apsuova resided, along with several other major tribes belonging to the Hurons.

As the tribal leader, Apsuova simply couldn't gamble on the whims of an evil spirit.

No one could predict whether, as it killed more people and grew stronger, it would gradually expand the scope of its retaliation.

"We must kill or expel it!"

After making up his mind.

For a native wizard, dealing with a "spirit" naturally requires leveraging the power of other "spirits"!

It might not be entirely accurate to refer to them as "wizards" using the Old Continent's customary term.

Strictly speaking, those who believe in the spirituality of all things should be classified under "Shamanism," and defining them as "Shaman" would be more fitting.

Apsuova withdrew a dagger crafted from bear teeth, gold, and obsidian, and gently cut his palm.

Sss—

He covered both hands in blood to commune with the "Guardian God" worshiped by the tribe and the entire Huron people.

The widely existing "Spirit of Nature" in the New Continent is a powerful natural spirit born between heaven and earth. It is personified through faith and becomes stronger through belief.

Even though it does not possess the personality of a demigod, it has great power that transcends all spiritual entities, including evil spirits, due to its deep-rooted connection with this land!

Thump thump! Thump! Thump!...

He picked up a hand drum made by hollowing out a tree trunk using a burning method, called "Tebonaster," and beat the bear-skin drumhead continuously with both hands.

With exaggerated and primitive dance steps underfoot, the feathered crown on his head gently swayed, and the copper bells on his waist jingled incessantly.

He sang praises loudly in the indigenous language, his ethereal and uplifting voice spreading outward.

To those like Aiven and Milan, who possessed a strong spiritual essence, they could distinctly discern the meaning of the song even if they didn't understand the indigenous language:

"'Spirit of the Giant Bear' Gleam!

You are the embodiment of the War God's (our brother's) power!

The forest is your fur!

The mountains are your arms!

The highlands are your head!

.....

'Spirit of the Giant Bear'

Your subjects call upon your power to destroy the evil spirit!"

In Aiven's spiritual vision, the earthen spell light expanded far along with the sound waves.

Thump!

As Apsuova, the shaman wizard, exerted all his strength to strike the hand drum heavily.

Boom—!

The terrifying evil spirit standing on the water, as if bound by some powerful force since the first beat, unavoidably faced the power from the "Spirit of the Giant Bear" in the drum sound!

It was like a giant hammer shattering a block of ice.

Screech—

After a sharp cry, the pale figure disappeared without a trace.

"Yaku—!"

"Yaku—!"

The group of indigenous warriors who followed the chief had already begun to cheer loudly for the power of the "Spirit of the Giant Bear."

However, Aiven's expression on the side did not relax in the slightest.

He could sense the power fluctuations during Apsuova's spellcasting; in terms of his own activated spiritual power, it was at most comparable to himself at the peak of a Level 1 apprentice.

Even with the blessing obtained through the prayer ceremony from the unidentified "Spirit of the Giant Bear," the overall power level was as it was.

For an evil spirit filled with deep resentment, equivalent to a Tier 2 Official Transcendent, even if it was injured, it shouldn't have been crushed into fragments so effortlessly like that just now.

Moreover, Aiven neither saw the "Dust of Evil Spirits" left behind after the evil spirit was destroyed nor felt that the cold atmosphere in the forest had dissipated.

Anomalies indicate something sinister!

He had already begun to cautiously observe his surroundings.

Evil spirits possess many unreasonable abilities, including mind-killing, curses, possession, immunity to physical harm... Particularly formidable entities also have various special abilities.

When dealing with such weird entities, extreme caution is necessary; if one isn't careful, they might suffer a disastrous fate from an unexpected quarter.

Suddenly.

He noticed an anomaly.

The "Brown Bear Warrior" over there, in cooperation with the three Crowmen, had dealt with all the "Skinless People," but had not lifted the extraordinary empowerment that seemed like "Brown Bear Possession," which clearly was a hefty burden.

Instead, he slightly lowered his head, covered in blood, and gradually approached Apsuova. Unexpectedly, in front of everyone, he raised his obsidian saw sword, still adorned with fragments of flesh and bone.

He smashed it heavily upon the back of his leader's head.

"Ah!"

"Stop!"

Clang—

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