That’s what Flot continued to believe the next day, as he feigned concern and headed to the Fifth. To his great surprise, every villager was alive and well.
It was a nightmare. He had barely managed to keep a smile on his face, muttering what a miracle it was, and set off after Vandal, who had already departed for the other villages. Before long, he heard all about the other “miracles” Vandal caused. If this was a nightmare, he certainly hadn’t woken up yet.
The child cured the villagers’ sicknesses without even casting magic, cured burn scars, made medicine from his fingers (rather, his claws). A Tamer, who was also one of Flot’s fellow conspirators, had unleased some orcs toward one of the villages; Vandal had dropped down from the sky and wiped the monsters out. At that point, Vandal vanished for a few moments and created a new well, complete with a bucket and pulley.
Some of the villages had also been slated for destruction by bandits, but nothing had happened yet. Flot could only assume Vandal’s involvement.
In addition, in the Second Pioneer Village, Flot’s carefully laid, laborious scheme involving the poisonous pesticide had come to naught. Vandal not only removed the toxins but also taught the villagers how to make edible food from goblin meat.
It was like actual divine intervention.
Who the hell is this dhampir? Flot thought, trying to keep his smile tight. An agent from the Belton faction? But no, they wouldn’t waste exposing someone so powerful for these tasks. They wouldn’t send their trump card in to save these villages. Which means—he really is just a passerby? Flot risked another glance at Vandal and found him looking right back. Oh no! He suspects me! I knew it!
“. . . Is something the matter?” Flot felt a cold sweat break out on his brow. His own face, eyes wide in surprise, was reflected back at him in those all-seeing eyes.
“No, it’s nothing,” he managed to reply, somehow keeping a tremble out of his voice.
“Okay,” Vandal replied and looked away.
This brat is too dangerous! I need to report to Master Carlkan at once! The Carlkan in question was a member of the knights, Flot’s superior and the commander of this operation. The merchant would have moved on without seeing the outcome, so he might still be in the dark, but Tamer at least should have already headed in to report what happened. That wasn’t going to be enough, though. Once they got back to the Seventh, Flot would himself need to go into town to report everything he had seen.
Vandal himself, however, was not suspicious of Flot on any real level, even as Flot fretted his skin off. Vandal’s Detect Danger: Death would not pick up on any intent that didn’t involve direct death or harm to himself, and he wasn’t sharp enough to work out what others were thinking simply by deduction. Flot thought his eyes had met due to Vandal’s suspicions. In fact, the dhampir had simply been looking up into the sky and happened to meet the fake priest’s gaze.
Vandal’s generally blank expression meant people often thought he looked angry, but that was simply a product of his doll-like features. His face was a canvas onto which the observer could paint whatever emotion they desired—or feared—to find there. The people of the villages, who liked Vandal already, saw a friendly face looking back at them. Flot, who was suspicious, only saw suspicion.
In that exact moment, Vandal was having a thought that most people had at least once in their lives.
I wish I was a bird. Someone, give me wings.
Given that he could make the trip back with Flight in under an hour, why was he stumping along on the ground? Of course, there was no real question of leaving Kasim and his companions behind. He couldn’t carry this many people, though. It would use too much MP, and Vandal wasn’t big enough to carry four people anyway. A strong breeze or a murder of monster crows, and someone would fall to their death.
That meant the only choice was to walk. He had therefore been looking up into the sky, wishing for a way to fly while carrying all of these people.
Then he had another thought.
If I want wings—I can make them myself, surely? Of course, with Vandal’s powers, if he wanted wings, all he had to do was grow them. Vandal immediately wanted to give it a try but managed to keep that impulse under control.
I definitely wouldn’t be able to pass that off as life magic, he thought. I’ll give it a try after I meet up with Eleonora and the others.
Eleonora was thinking just how right she had been when she decided that this small dhampir was far more terrifying than Vilkain and the other progenitor species vampires. This wasn’t her first time having his thought, but tonight, she had the accompanying question of why exactly her terrifying master had chosen this direction in life.
After all, he had created two-way magical communication using shrunken goblin heads. He could simply sell that device to become a wealthy Baron. She didn’t understand why he was so fixated on becoming an adventurer and working his way up.
It wasn’t just the communication devices. He could take gemstones, or even magic stones, and use Golem Creation to change their shape and combine them together, turning glittering dust into the kind of stone that would adorn a king’s crown. Again, a simple way to become richer than he could imagine. MP compatibility meant that only magic stones from the same rank of monsters could be merged together, but he would still be able to make a gemstone far larger than most would ever find.
But Vandal shot all those ideas down. “The only outcome I can see there is those in power taking me captive to make me their slave and extract more magic from me,” he had replied.
Of course, Eleonora didn’t believe that everyone in power was a good person. Indeed, she assumed more than ninety percent of them were plotters or bad people. However, she also couldn’t imagine that any more than ten percent of them were complete and utter morons.
And only a complete and utter moron would even consider making an enemy of Lord Vandal.
At that thought, massive black wings then gave a flap—wings that were sprouting from her master.
“Now this is flying! Everyone okay back there?” Vandal asked.
“I’m loving it!” hollered Zulan. “The wind is blowing but that’s perfect for a summer night!”
“You’re the best, king!” Braga shouted. “The people on the ground look like ants!”
Zulan, Braga, and the black goblins were clearly enjoying themselves. Eleonora gave a smile herself.
“Lord Vandal. It does feel most comfortable . . . but is it okay to mutate—no, evolve yourself—to this extent, simply to get around?”
“Huh? I just used Spirit Body to grow some wings. I didn’t mutate or evolve anything,” Vandal replied.
This reply was hardly convincing, given that he looked like some kind of monstrous bird, with his head struck onto an avian neck and three pairs of tremendous black wings sprouting from his body.
After returning to the Seventh Pioneer Village, Vandal had seen off the priest who was in a rush to get back to town. Then he idled away the time by training with Kasim and the others before spending a night at the General Store. From his room there, he had let Eleonora and the others know that he would head back to them in the morning.
The lodgings at the General Store were bunkbeds for eight people. The owners weren’t counting on the income from the inn, and the beds had themselves been cobbled together. Vandal could’ve stayed longer, even with Kasim and his party in residence. The owner had even forgiven the lodging fee as compensation for his initial treatment of Vandal.
After getting back to his companions, Vandal immediately put his new idea into action. He used Spirit Bodification, Spirit Body, and Substantiation to try and grow some wings. Thinking about it now, the Skeleton Bird—which was now part of Knochen—had flown around by using Spirit Body to grow wings over its bones. Furthermore, Vandal had already been using Spirit Bodification to increase his number of limbs, and even heads, and could turn them into tendrils that branched out as required.
It certainly sounded like he could make some wings. He immediately gave it a try.
He used Spirit Bodification on his back, and then Spirit Body to transform his back into his desired shape, stretching it out and making it larger. Then he used Substantiation in various places in order to enhance the strength of the extensions. All of this eventually resulted in some giant wings.
Each one was about the size of a jumbo jet wing, making plenty of room for Eleonora and the others to ride on his back. And yet, when he flapped them, the wings hardly made any noise at all. That might have been because they were Spirit Body wings, because he had referenced owl wings in the design, or because he was unknowingly activating the death attribute spell Conceal Presence.
Now he was flying at a height no arrow could reach, at the speed of a galloping horse. The black color meant he was almost invisible from the ground, but if someone down there did spot him, they would probably pass out in terror.
“Lord Vandal, what exactly is your intent? To become a living legend?”
“Nothing that grand, trust me,” he said. “There are lots of issues with this approach.”
“It is lacking when compared to say, time attribute Instant Movement,” Eleonora said. “But still . . .”
“You know, Knochen could also fly this many people around, no problem,” Vandal replied.
“That’s true, but still . . .”
“If I’m the only human who can do this, the only future for me is some kind of hyped-up delivery boy.” Vandal couldn’t give anyone else wings like this, even if he wanted to. “There are all sorts of drawbacks, too,” he continued. “I need to use Mental Multitasking and Rapid Cognition to fly, which drains a lot of MP. I also can’t turn for toffee. I couldn’t fight an arial battle.”