Chapter 25
Duel (1)
It felt as if the shadow of a gigantic beast had taken form and was sweeping across the ground.
That was because its pitch-black, densely packed fur seemed to absorb all light.
From a distance, it looked like nothing more than an ordinary wolf—but once it closed in, its sheer size was overwhelming.
Standing on all fours, it was taller than a grown man, and its body length rivaled that of a carriage.
The only part of its body that caught the light and gleamed was its red eyes.
“Hell wolves! Form ranks!”
The vanguard captain of the supply convoy shouted.
The reaction split in two.
Some soldiers panicked, trembling in fear, while others—experienced—quickly took their positions.
Grrr…
The hell wolves circled the convoy as if dancing.
There were only five or six of them, but their growls and the heavy thuds of their paws against the ground were more than enough to instill terror.
“P-Please… save me!”
The laborers brought in for unloading screamed or begged for their lives.
“D-Don’t… don’t come out of the carriage.”
Hans spoke in a trembling voice.
“You should be the one getting inside. Are you planning to fight like that?”
“I-I’ll pr-protect you, young mas—”
At that moment—
A black blur flashed past.
One of the soldiers in the front row was seized by a hell wolf and dragged away.
They go for the weakest or the most frightened first… If that’s the case—
“AAAH! Help me!”
Crunch.
Crunch.
The soldier who had been dragged away did not die cleanly.
Several hell wolves pounced on him, biting into his arms and legs, tearing him apart piece by piece.
It was no different from being torn apart by horses.
Blood and chunks of flesh clung thickly to the wolves’ muzzles.
So they really are intelligent, just like I read…
Isaac suppressed the drowsiness creeping over him and recalled what he had read in books.
There was nothing he could do in this situation.
Against such troublesome magical beasts, clumsy swordsmanship would only get him killed.
He couldn’t use magic—and even if he could, casting spells in a place swarming with magical beasts was suicide.
Magical beasts craved mana.
Increasing the density of mana through spellcasting was no different from inviting them to feast.
“It’s psychological warfare! Don’t fall for it! Hold the formation!”
Carlson rode back and forth on horseback, shouting at the top of his lungs.
“Maintain formation! Hold the line!”
The vanguard captain screamed until his voice broke.
“They’re coming!”
“They’re charging!”
“Raise your spears!”
This time, not just one—but five or six hell wolves rushed in at once.
…
Before Isaac could even finish his thoughts, one of the wolves charging toward Carlson suddenly changed direction and sprinted toward the carriage.
More precisely—it wasn’t aiming for the carriage.
“Hans! Hans!”
“Y-Young… master… m-my legs…”
In that instant—
Hans, who had been staring at the hell wolf rushing toward him, turned his head toward Isaac.
His face showed it clearly.
He had accepted death.
Isaac and Waller moved at the same time.
They flung open the carriage door, trying to grab Hans and pull him in.
But the hell wolf was faster.
It was already right in front of him.
Boom.
Neighhh!
A heavy impact rang out as the horse let out a shrill cry.
The carriage overturned sideways.
Isaac and Waller were thrown around inside.
“Hans!”
Isaac shouted.
It felt like his heart had dropped.
When had he sworn never to regret the same thing again?
When had he watched Randolph die?
Was he really going to repeat the same mistake again?
“Ugh… young master…”
There was one more person inside the overturned carriage, besides Isaac and Waller.
Hans.
“I-I’m here…”
“Ha…”
Isaac let out a hollow breath.
Hans was bleeding from his head, but it didn’t look like he had been bitten by the black wolf.
“Young master… thanks to Sir Waller, I—”
Before Hans could finish speaking, his head snapped to the side.
Isaac had punched him in the face.
“Haha… that punch packs more heat than I expected.”
“You…!”
“I’m sorry.”
Hans gave a foolish smile, but it soon faded into a dark expression.
He had been nothing but a burden.
Isaac climbed out of the carriage with an angry look.
“…You’re alive. That’s enough.”
Waller patted Hans’s slumped shoulder.
His always-neat hair was now completely disheveled.
“Are you alright?”
Carlson asked Isaac as he shook the blood off his sword.
Just moments earlier, as the black wolf had been about to tear into Hans, Carlson had leapt from his saddle and plunged his longsword into the beast’s neck.
Pierced through a vital point, the hell wolf had collapsed, knocking over the carriage before dying.
“Thanks to you.”
Isaac replied shortly.
“Looks like it’s over.”
Three of the hell wolves were retreating from the convoy.
Around them lay the scattered corpses of soldiers—and two hell wolves impaled like hedgehogs on spears.
“…What about over there?”
Isaac looked toward the camp.
“Seems like things are being handled—thanks to some lunatic.”
Carlson was right.
At the entrance of the camp, where wooden barricades had been erected, a huge man was swinging an axe in each hand.
While the surrounding soldiers stood behind the barricades, thrusting long spears, the giant fought the hell wolves head-on—completely exposed, without any cover.
“…Wait, that…”
“That’s right.”
“He’s naked.”
“Completely naked.”
“And he’s laughing.”
“His mouth’s about to split open.”
“He’s insane.”
“He really is.”
The distance between the convoy’s hill and the camp wasn’t far.
They could clearly see it with the naked eye.
But it wasn’t close enough for voices to carry.
And yet—
“Hahaha!”
The mad laughter echoed wildly across the vast plain.
“Since when has he been like that?”
“No idea. By the time things settled on our side, he was already like that. Honestly, it killed the tension.”
“…That’s Besimer.”
Waller cut into Isaac and Carlson’s conversation.
“You know him?”
“He’s from a battle tribe. In practice, he’s basically the commander of this camp. Most of Vinfeltro’s soldiers come from tribal backgrounds.”
Waller answered.
“If it’s a battle tribe…”
“They’re aggressive—better at raiding than sustaining themselves. Most of those tribes have collapsed now, so it’s a thing of the past.”
“They still seem to enjoy fighting.”
“Anyone who doesn’t wouldn’t survive here.”
Out of the nearly fifty soldiers in the supply convoy, eight were killed and twelve were injured.
Unluckily, the vanguard captain had died, and the remaining convoy was led to the camp by Waller.
Even then, Besimer was still walking outside the palisade, completely naked and drenched in the blood of magical beasts.
His shaved head, with bulging veins, was coated in dark reddish blood, and his thick beard covering his jaw was clotted and matted with gore.
“Besimer!”
“Oh, well if it isn’t big brother. Long time no see.”
“Not ‘big brother’—the steward.”
“Same difference. Just give me a moment.”
Besimer was dismantling a hell wolf with a dagger.
Its thick black hide peeled off like parchment.
“La tu valaka sanctum… la tu valaka sanctum…”
Even as his hands moved without rest, Besimer muttered something unintelligible in his tribal language.
“These hides are heavy, so they don’t sell for much—but they’re real warm when you wear ’em.”
“Besimer. Did you receive the letter?”
“Hold on. This part’s important.”
Besimer raised a hand slick with beast blood, stopping Waller.
In the entire territory, no one but the count would dare treat the steward this way—but Waller merely sighed as if used to it.
“Would you look at this one. Thick and fresh.”
Besimer split open the belly of the skinned hell wolf and dug inside, pulling out a bright red organ.
It still steamed, as the creature hadn’t been dead long.
“This here’s a wolf’s liver. Eat this, and you gain their strength and courage. And that’s not all—there’s nothing better for a man than this.”
“Besimer.”
“Want some too, little brother? A man like you, still going strong in his later years—I’d guess you’ve still got business to handle at night.”
“Besimer.”
Ignoring Waller entirely, Besimer buried his face into the liver and took a bite.
Drip.
Blood ran thickly down his face.
“Ahh, that’s good. Go on, have a bite. Nice and warm—perfect.”
Besimer handed the remaining liver to the soldiers.
“Besimer, the young master has arrived.”
“The young master? Oh, you mean big brother’s kid.”
“Not ‘big brother’—his lordship.”
“Whatever. As long as I know he’s the one in charge around here, that’s enough.”
Besimer chewed noisily on the liver as he spoke.
“You… sigh. Never mind.”
Waller shook his aching head.
“So you’re Besimer.”
“Hm?”
Scratching his scalp where dried blood itched, Besimer turned toward the voice.
“Who’s this brat?”
He asked Waller, looking at Isaac.
“Were you even listening? That’s the young master.”
“Huh? That little crybaby from before? The one who looked like he’d burst into tears any second—that’s him?”
“Watch your manners.”
“Ah, come on. What’s it matter if I say that to big brother’s kid?”
Ignoring Schiller’s frown, Besimer walked over to Isaac.
“Wow, time flies. When did you grow this much? Your eyes look more like a man’s now, and you’ve gotten taller. Even your hair color’s changed a bit. Back then you looked just like your little brother—but now you’re starting to resemble your mother.”
Besimer circled Isaac as he spoke.
With every step he took, something swung loosely in Isaac’s view.
It bothered him.
“Hey.”
Isaac pointed between Besimer’s legs.
“Oh, this? Surprised? This magnificent thing here is a blessing passed down from my ancestors. My treasure.”
Besimer placed his hands on his hips and proudly displayed himself.
“That’s not what I meant. Cover it.”
“Ahh, right. Your family’s always been strict about that sort of thing.”
Grinning, Besimer quickly wrapped himself in the wolf hide he had just skinned.
“So—where’s my younger brother?”
“Younger brother?”
“Pickle.”
“Pickle?”
Isaac tilted his head.
“Do you mean Fikel?”
Schiller, somehow understanding, asked.
“Ah, right. That’s it. He always got mad when I called him Pickle.”
“…Did you really not read the letter?”
“A letter, huh… Did something like that come?”
Besimer asked the nearby soldiers.
“Anyone see it?”
“…Uh… you used it as kindling when you were drunk, remember? Said it was cold at dawn…”
One soldier spoke cautiously.
“You bastards! Why didn’t you stop me!?”
“We tried. Three of us did. We all got beaten half to death the next day…”
“…Ah. Well… that’s how it went, I guess.”
Besimer scratched his cheek awkwardly.
“Ha. Fine. I didn’t expect much anyway. Just listen carefully from now on.”
After letting out another deep sigh, Schiller explained everything that had happened so far.
How Fikel had engaged in human trafficking and tried to kill Isaac—and was executed for it.
And how Isaac had earned merit for the family and was granted Vinfeltro.
“Hah. Sounds like him, in the end.”
Besimer didn’t seem particularly saddened by Fikel’s death.
He merely clicked his tongue a few times and let out a dry laugh.
“So now, the lord of this land is Young Master Isaac.”
“Well, do as you like. Writing a name on parchment in ink is up to you lot. But actually becoming the true lord of Vinfeltro—that’s another matter. Even a man like my brother never truly became its master.”
“Don’t worry. He’ll be returning to the estate soon.”
Waller lowered his voice.
“All you need to do is make sure the young master is comfortable while he’s here.”
“Wait, hold on… Isaac?”
“…That’s right.”
“I’m just making sure—big brother had two children, right? One of them got cursed and turned into a cripple. Which one was it?”
“Besimer.”
“Answer me.”
Besimer’s expression hardened.
“Cripple or not?”
“Besimer, this is—”
“He’s right. I am the cripple.”
Isaac answered in place of the hesitating Waller.
“Haha… looks like big brother’s lost his mind.”
Besimer laughed—but his eyes held naked contempt.
Isaac barely reached his waist in height, yet he met that gaze calmly.
“Kid, I’m saying this out of respect for big brother—so listen well. While I’m being nice, go back home. This place is a battlefield. We don’t have time to care for cursed cripples.”
As Besimer growled, the surrounding soldiers’ mood also turned hostile.
It felt like they might draw their weapons at any moment.
But Isaac simply smirked.
“If you drive out this cursed cripple… everyone in this camp will be wiped out before long.”
“Hey, what the hell is this brat saying? Think you can act tough just because you’ve got backing—”
“It won’t be my father who destroys you.”
“It’ll be the hell wolves.”
At Isaac’s words, the atmosphere froze instantly.