Chapter 34

Cursed Night Raid

“Aaaargh—!”

The cook who lunged at Isaac let out a shout—
which instantly turned into a scream.

Thud.

The wrist holding the dagger fell straight to the ground.

“Are you going to try too?”

Carlson asked the other cook, who was hesitating with a dagger in his hand.

“N-no.”

The cook dropped the dagger.

“You guys… don’t tell me…”

Ironically,
the only one truly panicking in this situation was Gunter.
Neither Isaac nor Carlson looked particularly surprised.

“You pulled a knife on the lord? Are you insane? No matter if you’re from the Baitur, this will only increase hostility toward your people!”

Gunter snapped.

“Ghk—”

The cook who had attacked Isaac clutched his severed wrist, blood pouring out thickly.
In the torchlight, his eyes burned with rage.

“The crazy ones… are you… When have we ever… lived bowing our heads…? The plains, the hills, the forests… have no owner. They are their own masters… Nobles who don’t understand that… will have nothing.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Wait.”

Isaac raised a hand, stopping Carlson, who had lifted his sword.

“What happens if someone drinks this?”

“Heh… if you’re curious… try it…”

The cook with the severed wrist picked up the fallen dagger with his remaining hand.
His hand trembled violently.

“Carlson. Don’t kill him.”

“Aagh—!”

Carlson cut down the cook’s remaining hand as well.
This time, the wrist wasn’t severed, but he no longer had the strength to hold anything.
Thick blood was already pooling on the dirt floor.

If he wouldn’t answer what kind of blood it was, or what it did—
then they would simply make him drink it.

“Gunter. Give him the beer from the barrel.”

“…What?”

Gunter looked confused.
But seeing Isaac’s sharp expression, he obeyed.

“N-no—!”

Carlson forced the cook’s mouth open, and Gunter poured beer from a wooden cup into it.

“Khk—cough, cough!”

The cook struggled, but couldn’t stop the liquid from going down his throat.
Fear spread across his eyes—reflected in them was the moon.

“Keugh… cough…”

Unable to even support himself with his arms, the cook collapsed onto the ground, coughing violently.

“No… cough… no… I want to die… as a human…”

He muttered faintly between spasms.

“Is… is he dead?”

Gunter asked.

By now, soldiers had gathered, drawn by the commotion.
They stared at the scene with unease and distrust.

“At this rate, he will be. He’s lost too much blood.”

Carlson replied.

At that moment—

Crack.
Creak.

A strange sound echoed.

The fallen cook’s back suddenly convulsed.
His spine began to protrude through his shirt.
His arms and legs swelled unnaturally.

“Haa—!”

“Ghaaa—!”

His breathing turned grotesque.

Grrr…

Then his bones and flesh began to twist.
His nose and mouth elongated, and black fur sprouted across his body.
The bones of his brow bulged outward, and his ears sharpened.
Black blood seeped from his eyes and ears.

“Kraaaagh!”

The shrieking spy could no longer be called human.
His boots tore apart as claws burst out.
His fingernails, too, had grown far too large and sharp to be human.
This was no mere growth—
it was something sudden, unnatural, and grotesque.

“Beastification.”

Isaac muttered shortly.
He had only ever read about such mutations in books—never imagined witnessing one firsthand.

“……”

The watching soldiers were so horrified they forgot to breathe.
The sound of bones and muscles rapidly growing rang even more clearly in the silence.

“Carlson.”

Slash—

The moment Isaac called his name, the head of the creature—neither wolf nor human—separated from its body.
Blood sprayed everywhere.

“Now I understand.”

At last, Isaac found the answer to the mystery that had troubled him.

How the wolves had taken the camp without jumping the walls, breaking them, or digging tunnels.
Why, out of 118 people, fewer than 30 corpses were found.

“So this was it.”

Isaac looked back up at the moon.

In his effort to overcome his unique condition, there was no field he hadn’t touched—
including shamanistic arts.

At its core, shamanism mimics the laws of nature and turns them into reality.
It uses dolls modeled after people to cast curses or divert misfortune.
It makes corpses imitate the living to serve as laborers or soldiers.
Through various catalysts and symbols, it deceives spirits and borrows their power.

In such practices, the moon symbolizes madness, origin, and cycle.

‘The Baitur worship a wolf god. Among beasts, wolves are known for their strong familial bonds—something that aligns with the Baitur’s ideology.’

When the moon becomes full—
they borrow the power of shamanism to return to their “true” nature.

It might sound almost poetic—
but shamanism, by its nature of imitating and deceiving natural laws, always carries side effects and a price.

“How many drank this?”

Isaac said, looking at the level of beer left in the barrel.
It was already half empty.

“……”

“How many drank it!?”

Isaac raised his voice.
Though it was still that of a boy just past puberty, the cook froze.

“Anyone who drank this—raise your hand.”

“……”

The cooks and the gathered soldiers alike stood dazed.

“…Almost everyone… probably drank it.”

Gunter finally answered.

“All of them?”

“…Yes.”

“Since when did you start mixing hell wolf blood into this?”

Isaac glared at the remaining cook.

“Answer.”

Carlson’s blade pressed against the cook’s throat.

“…Y-yesterday.”

“Were you ordered to do it?”
“…Yes. During night patrol, at the rendezvous point… Please believe me, I didn’t know it would do this! I was told… that after drinking it, they would sleep deeply at night for a few days, and that the plan was to strike then…”

“So the plan was to assassinate the lord during that time.”

“……”

At Carlson’s words, the cook bit his lip.

“Then why aren’t the soldiers here turning into that thing?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“If you don’t know, you die.”

Carlson’s blade pressed harder into the cook’s neck.
A thin line of blood appeared.

“I-I really don’t know! The only thing I know is that Valden… he probably knew that drinking this would turn people into wolves…”

“Valden? Was that this guy’s name?”

Carlson kicked the corpse whose head had been severed.

“…Yes. He said he would go to Balaka and beg his comrades for forgiveness. I swear—that’s all I know.”

“What should we do?”

Carlson asked Isaac.

‘The moon, the blood… and what else?’

Isaac pondered what the final trigger was—the missing element that had caused Valden’s transformation into a beast.

But no answer came easily.

“P-please spare me. I… I’m Baitur, but I’m also a soldier of Goethe.”

“I’ll ask you one last thing. Answer this, and I’ll spare your life.”

“Y-yes, anything—ask me anything!”

The cook replied quickly, desperation written all over his face.

“You received orders from Virpier, didn’t you?”
“Y-yes.”
“What were you told to do after completing your task?”
“T-to send a signal.”
“A signal?”
“Yes. He said they would be waiting in the nearby hills, so I should send the agreed signal.”
“What kind of signal?”

“…Huh?”

Suddenly, the cook’s gaze lifted into the air.

“That… that’s it.”
“That?”
“…That.”

At Isaac’s question, the cook raised a trembling finger toward the sky.
A flaming arrow shot from inside the camp, tracing an arc through the night.

Awooooo—

From not far away, a wolf howled.
The sound, carried on the night air, rang out clearer than ever.

Carlson lowered his sword and placed a hand on the ground—then looked at Isaac.

“They’re coming.”

“Battle stations.”

“All units, battle stations! All units, battle stations!”

The moment Isaac spoke, Carlson’s thunderous voice roared across the camp.

“B-battle… battle stations!”

Even the stunned soldiers began to move, repeating Carlson’s command.

But the hell wolves struck a step faster than expected.

“Aaaargh!”

“W-wolves…!”

Screams erupted from the very center of the camp.

Grrrrr—

Pitch-black wolves emerged from among the tents.

“Hold on!”

Carlson dashed forward like an arrow and cut down a wolf—but the soldier it had attacked was already dead.
His waist had been torn apart, his body nearly split in two.
Thick blood soaked the ground, pooling into a dark puddle.
Entrails spilled out, reeking.

“H-how… already?”

When Carlson heightened his senses with aura, the heavy footsteps of the approaching pack had been at least three hundred paces away.
Even now, they were still over a hundred paces out.

They would soon overrun the camp—but not yet.

There was nowhere inside the camp large enough to hide such massive wolves.

The answer to Carlson’s confusion came quickly.

“Aaaah—save me! Save meee!”
“Just a little longer…!”

Hearing the screams, Carlson tore through a tent to reach the source—
and froze.

“…Ah.”

A sound, neither sigh nor groan, slipped through his teeth.

Beastification.

The hell wolves that had appeared early—
were the soldiers themselves.

“….”

A cold sensation ran through Carlson, one he hadn’t felt in a long time.
He tightened his grip on his sword and steadied his breathing.

Slash—

The head of a soldier in mid-transformation fell cleanly.
The blade cut through muscle and bone without hesitation.
The soldier—neither human nor wolf—stared blankly at the night sky.

“Rest.”

Carlson gently closed his eyes.

They had only been here for half a month.
Soldiers he had personally drilled and trained.

It was too short a time to form attachment.
Their relationship hadn’t even been good.

But perhaps—
if they had been given enough time…

Like his comrades of the past,
they might have become warriors who could trust each other with their backs.

“...Hah.”

Carlson exhaled and began running toward the camp entrance.

—It’s worth trying. But many soldiers will die.
—…Your job is to minimize that loss. It’s better than being wiped out by a legion of hell wolves.

Isaac’s order echoed clearly in his mind.
And Carlson intended to follow it.

“Fear! It’s fear! Do not yield to it! Fight as humans! Die as humans!”

Behind him, a sharp, piercing voice rang out—
a child’s voice, yet filled with fury and something almost sinister.

“So that’s it… fear.”

Carlson now had even more reason to eliminate the Wolf King quickly.

But when he reached the camp entrance—
there was no sign of the silver wolf.

Only a flood of black beasts rushing forward under the bright moonlight.

“Do not yield to fear! Do not fear death—think of what you must protect!”

Isaac shouted until his voice tore.
Infused with mana, it spread throughout the camp.

Because of that, even more wolves began to converge on him.

“M-my lord…”

Gunter, Hans, and a handful of recovered soldiers found themselves surrounded by a massive pack of wolves.

The beasts bared their fangs, growling.
Their jaws were large enough to crush flesh on contact.
Drool dripped thickly from their mouths as they eyed their prey.

“Do not be afraid. We will survive.”

Even Isaac couldn’t guarantee those words.
But he intended to prove them true.

Thud-thud-thud—

A hell wolf charged straight at him, shaking the ground.

Magical beasts were drawn to dense mana.
To them, Isaac was a prime target.

But its fangs never reached him.

Lowering his stance and waiting for the moment—
Isaac swung upward.

The wolf’s jaws split cleanly in two.

All that time spent sharpening his blade had paid off.
The technique he had trained to face Besimer now proved its worth.

The tide of battle hadn’t truly turned.
There were still too many wolves, and screams still echoed everywhere.

But it was enough—
enough to pull the soldiers out of their fear.

“He cut down a hell wolf in one strike…!?”
“What are you standing around for, idiots!? You gonna lose to a brat lord!?”
“The Frost Demon is on our side!”
“Yeah! He’s scarier than those bastards we’ve fought for ten years!”

The soldiers shouted, raising each other’s morale.
No one had ordered them to.

They fought—to survive.
To stay human.

Grrrr—

But the courage they had barely gathered shattered in an instant.

A silver wolf landed silently before them.

Even the hell wolves were overwhelming—
but this one was several times larger.

The Wolf King.

Its yellow eyes gleamed.

“We… we’re going to die—Aaaagh!”

One soldier, unable to withstand the terror, transformed.
Gunter immediately stabbed and killed him.

Panic spread.

Then—

“What are you doing, you idiots!? Pick up your weapons and fight!”

“Captain!”

At the familiar shout, the soldiers’ faces lit up.

Besimer—who had been tied to a post and starved for days—
had broken through the wolves and now stood before the Wolf King.

“You came to save me, Father.”

The gazes of the silver wolf and Besimer met in the air.
That brief moment felt unbearably long.

“Do you remember this axe? You gave it to me yourself at my coming-of-age.”

Grrr…

“Now… I’ll use this axe to free your soul.”

Besimer gripped the axe tightly with both hands.

“Ra, Tu, Balaka!”

With a shout, he charged forward.