Chapter 26: Freya

Returning to the camp, the gigantic beast trailing behind Leo caused an immediate uproar. Even the mightiest snow bear from the Northern Ice River could never grow to such size—this was unmistakably a magical beast.

In this world, magical beasts were akin to Earth’s great predators: they were not as ubiquitous as the tales would have one believe. They were a link in the chain of life, and because of their formidable strength and expansive territories, they remained rare. Yet the true reason for their scarcity lay in the presence of humankind. For adventurers, every part of a magical beast was a treasure; the profit from slaying one far surpassed that of ten ordinary large beasts. News of a magical beast’s appearance would draw swarms of adventurer bands, who would not relent until the creature was hunted to extinction. By now, not only were ordinary magical beasts scarce—even legendary dragons could only hide within volcanoes, snowy peaks, or wilds thousands of miles from human realms. As for common folk, the only time they might see a magical beast was usually in the moments before being devoured.

No one expected that the enormous magical beast Leo had brought back would prove timider than the villagers themselves, cowering behind Leo and peeking out only when its head was nearly buried beneath his arm. The militia and able-bodied men watched from a safe distance, weapons in hand, none daring to approach. Only Little Mouse summoned the courage to dash over, hugging Leo’s leg and gazing curiously at the giant groundhog.

The two rodents—one large, one small—stood on either side of Leo, exchanging glances of fear and curiosity, staring foolishly at one another.

Seeing that the villagers had no intention of violence, Freya finally relaxed. Amid exclamations, she stood upright like a human, lumbering awkwardly into the camp. Led by Leo, Freya followed him to the central bonfire, where she saw several large cauldrons. Her eyes sparkled, and she sat upright and proper, like a child waiting for dinner.

Olivia, her expression a mix of fear and inquiry, looked to Leo. He waved his hand and declared, “Extra rations! Extra rations! I want to treat my new friend to dinner!”

Olivia sighed with relief; at least he wasn’t bringing someone to eat her. Glancing at the groundhog’s size, she whispered, “How much extra?”

“Add a whole pot!”

“Oh,” Olivia replied begrudgingly, but complied nonetheless.

Sitting by the bonfire with Freya, Leo had to crane his head to see her face, eventually moving to a spot farther away. “Can’t you turn back into an elf? You’re scaring the children.”

Freya replied pitifully, “I can’t. My teacher hasn’t taught me the spell to change back yet.”

Leo was speechless. “Where’s your teacher, then? Where’s your home?”

Freya raised her paw and pointed toward the distant waterfall. “My home is on the cliff. I fell by accident and can’t get back.”

“That can’t be. Falling from such a height would squash even a gorilla.”

Freya puffed up indignantly. “I can fly!” She took a deep breath, then twisted to show Leo her back. “Look! I have wings!”

On her back, a pair of fuzzy little wings protruded, identical to those of a duckling.

Leo stared in disbelief, reaching out to prod Freya’s wings—they were so small they were invisible from the front. “Can these really fly?”

Freya, annoyed, stood up and vibrated her wings, leaping with all her might, only to crash down with a thud.

The groundhog looked at Leo hopefully, awaiting praise.

“Did you... fly?” Leo asked uncertainly.

“I landed!” Freya snapped. “I slowed my fall, that’s why I didn’t die!”

“Alright, you can fly,” Leo said, covering his face. “But at this rate, you won’t be going home anytime soon.”

Freya, unconcerned, replied confidently, “Don’t worry. My teacher will come looking for me once he wakes up and finds me gone!”

“How long does your teacher usually sleep?”

“He says advanced shape-shifting magic requires thoroughly learning the behaviors of the form, so he hibernates every year. When spring comes, he wakes up!”

Leo wanted to ask more, but Freya’s attention had already shifted to the food.

In the center of the camp stood three cauldrons: one was an ancestral clay pot, the other two massive iron pots made by Ulyan at great expense. These weren’t the semicircular pots used for feasts in rural China, but large, flat-bottomed vessels like an oversized rice cooker insert—each holding over a hundred liters of food, enough for a hundred people.

Still, the pots weren’t always filled to the brim; usually one or two would simmer with thick soup, supplemented by black bread and horned cassava to barely satisfy the villagers’ hunger. Since trading kobold iron for grain, the camp’s food supply had improved; now all three pots cooked every meal, and the soup grew increasingly rich.

Olivia even began baking precious wheat cakes, offering them as extra rations to the young men digging canals and felling trees.

Such abundance was once unimaginable—wheat cakes every day, dry food aplenty, not even the landlord’s family could afford such extravagance!

Now, not only were the three main cauldrons busy, but the final reserve pot was set up as well, boiling with a mix of ingredients. As the women stirred the bubbling stew with pinewood sticks, the fragrant aroma wafted through the camp.

Freya and the children banded together, eagerly inhaling the scent, determined not to let it drift away and be wasted. Leo, not to be outdone, began preparing live fish for grilling and steaming, ready to show off his culinary skills.

At last, supper was ready. Olivia ladled a large clay bowl of thick soup and placed it before Freya with a kind smile.

Freya sat with poise, carefully picking up the clay bowl—though it was the size of a human head, it looked like a teacup beside her enormous skull. She tilted it back, draining it in one gulp, then licked the bowl clean of all residue.

She set the bowl down gracefully, pushed it toward Olivia with a paw, and waited obediently.

“It’s delicious!”

Little Mouse scurried over to peer at Freya’s clay bowl, admiring how spotless it was after the porridge.

Olivia watched Freya’s seamless performance in astonishment, then hesitated, “Perhaps… you should just use the pot directly?”

“Then I won’t be shy!” Freya happily bobbed her head, wishing the kobold pups would call her mama.

After downing a steaming pot of thick porridge, Freya contentedly stroked the soft fur on her belly, her gaze settling on Leo.

Next, under Olivia’s anxious eyes and Leo’s protests, Freya boldly demonstrated “the same method for eating steamed and grilled fish,” “how to devour a meter-long black bread in one bite,” and the art of crunching raw barley and horned cassava.

She lifted a fish over a foot long, raised it high, and stuffed it whole into her mouth, closing her jaws and tugging gently on the head. All that remained was the fish’s head and its connected spine.

Amid the children’s cries of awe, Freya triumphantly tossed the pristine fish skeleton into her mouth, chewing and swallowing it in a few bites.

The children weren’t amazed at how much she ate—they were amazed she had fish to eat!

Leo, unable to stop Freya’s marauding appetite, watched her performance with displeasure, feeling his status among the children threatened.