Chapter 35
To Follow the Devil’s Words
“Ra, Tu, Balaka!”
Shouting his wish for the afterlife, the massive warrior charged toward the Wolf King.
From a distance of over ten paces, Besimer slammed his foot into the ground and used the recoil to launch himself high into the air.
With both hands gripping his axe, he came crashing down, aiming for the Wolf King’s head.
Boom!
The Wolf King lightly evaded.
“Planning to run away again?”
Besimer pulled his axe from the ground and rested the handle on his shoulder.
Clumps of dirt fell from the blade.
Grrr…
The Wolf King circled him at a measured distance.
Besimer followed, turning in place.
“Do you remember the old days? We used to circle like this, sparring barehanded with my brothers. I always lost to them. Even though I wasn’t that much smaller. And now…”
Crunch!
Before he could finish, a hell wolf lunged from behind and bit into his shoulder.
It left a wound, but not a serious one.
Crack—
Rip!
Before the beast could fully exert its bite, Besimer jammed his axe into its jaws and tore them apart.
“What’s the matter, Father? I was hoping for a quiet family talk.”
Grrr…
Whether by the Wolf King’s command or instinct, the wolves’ attention shifted from the soldiers to Besimer.
Besimer felt a tightening in his chest.
“Yeah… this feeling.”
The air, thick with killing intent, felt like seawater—no matter how much he breathed, it never felt like enough.
His entire body tensed, his heartbeat pounded like a drum.
His blood seemed to boil, his body itching all over.
The urge to leap forward and swing his axe surged within him.
For years, he had stood as the camp’s gatekeeper, cutting down charging hell wolves.
Back then, he was the hunter setting traps.
He hunted prey that rushed toward him.
Behind him were sturdy walls and comrades.
But now—
there were only beasts surrounding him, ready to tear him apart.
Crunch—
Yelp!
Crack!
Already, two wolves had died by his hand.
One had its neck half-severed, whining like a pup as it died.
Another lunged into his arms to avoid the axe—only to have its neck snapped.
“Hah… hah… Do you see? Even without relying on that pathetic shamanism, your son is this strong. So why… why did you do it?”
This time, three wolves attacked at once.
They bit at his legs, shaking his balance.
Another lunged as he staggered.
Besimer fell—
but swung his axe.
One was fatally wounded and flung away,
but his blood-slick grip slipped—
and he lost the axe.
What followed was a brutal melee.
Rolling his body to avoid their jaws, Besimer locked one wolf in a chokehold.
He gouged out one of its eyes and hammered its skull repeatedly with his fist.
Whine—whine—!
The beast struggled desperately, but the giant wouldn’t let go.
The remaining two wolves tried to attack,
but Besimer used the captured wolf as a shield, tucking himself beneath it.
More than that—
the wolf’s agonized cries made the others hesitate.
Then Besimer struck first.
With nothing but brute strength, he crushed them.
One had its upper and lower jaws torn apart.
The other had its skull shattered by relentless blows.
“Hah… hah…”
Pushing aside the limp carcasses, Besimer rose to his feet again.
Only then did the pain flood in.
His left thigh had been torn so badly bone was visible.
His steps toward the fallen axe were unsteady.
Blood dripped with every movement.
“Ghk…”
As he picked up the axe, he noticed his ring finger and pinky on his right hand were gone.
He didn’t care.
With the remaining three fingers, he gripped the axe and lifted it.
His shoulders, sides—pierced and torn by fangs.
He didn’t care.
Then suddenly—
“Hahahahaha!”
He burst into laughter.
It wasn’t madness—
but a loud, liberated laugh.
His body was soaked in blood,
yet his face looked… relieved.
“Now I understand. Why I could never beat my brothers.”
He rested the axe on his shoulder again.
Covered in blood, smiling—he looked like a madman.
“I wanted to live too much. But now I see—you’re the same, Father. Did you want to live that badly? Enough to become a beast?”
Grrr…
“Or did you forget how to speak after thirteen years as an animal?”
Grrr…
“Ah, Virpier must’ve trained you like a dog. So you probably didn’t forget.”
The silver wolf, watching from a distance, lowered its center of gravity.
“So? Living well? Eating and shitting just fine?”
Besimer kept talking, provoking, never taking his eyes off the Wolf King.
For over ten years of chasing it,
he had never provoked it like this.
—No matter how great a warrior you are, how can a man chase a wolf? A magical beast, at that?
—Then what should I do?
—Make the wolf come to you.
—How?
That day Isaac had called him to the tent—
he had shown him a different way.
—Make it want to tear you apart.
—You think I can beat the Wolf King?
—No. It’s a monster with a body that would make even other magical beasts tremble.
—Then what?
—Turn it into an ordinary raging beast.
—…?
—You saw it during our duel. Back then—you weren’t human.
The reason Besimer lost to Isaac—
was not just technique.
Isaac had provoked him.
Manipulated him.
Stripped away his reason.
Back then—
Besimer had already stopped thinking like a human.
And that was when Isaac won.
For the past ten years, Besimer had never stooped to such tactics.
It would have dishonored his tribe.
But now—
honor meant nothing.
Not after what had happened.
Not after watching countless people turn into hell wolves.
“So come on. With that huge body, you must take massive dumps. Then again—you’ve already taken the biggest dump in our tribe’s history.”
Grrr…
The silver wolf lowered itself further.
Its body aligned with the ground.
Front legs bent.
Tail straightened.
Its ears sharpened.
Its hind leg muscles tensed, swelling with power.
Besimer didn’t miss a single movement.
“Look around you. Is this the Baitur tribe? Is this the land of Vinfeltro? To me, it just looks like a den of wolves—”
In an instant, a black silhouette crashed down upon Besimer.
The shadow that had leapt clean over even the encircling hell wolves bared its cold, gleaming fangs.
Besimer had endured bites while fighting multiple hell wolves—
but the Wolf King’s fangs were different.
If those sank in, it meant a fatal wound—
a strike to a vital point meant death.
With his three remaining fingers, Besimer tightened his grip on the axe handle, bracing it with his left hand.
Ra.
Tu.
Balaka.
Faintly, a voice echoed in his mind.
It belonged to the monster before him—
yet it wasn’t.
It was like the breath of his father, who had once stood like a ghost, staring blankly at the burning corpses of their people.
“May you find peace in Balaka.”
That was its meaning in the common tongue.
But back then, to the young Besimer, it felt like there were unspoken words—
words his father had swallowed.
I won’t make you wait long.
I’ll follow soon.
His father’s back.
His breath. The smell of blood and ash.
The sound of wiping blood from a shattered head.
The wind of the Black Forest, like a wail.
The cries of insects.
And now—
standing in that same memory—
Besimer carried the weight of the past, and of irreversible regret, in the heels of his feet.
His massive body bent unnaturally, fluidly, to one side.
At the end of that motion—
his axe, gripped tightly in both hands.
Now, that unbearable weight—
through the body he had forged,
through his muscles—
was released forward.
Endlessly.
With everything.
For the sake of—
his father’s liberation.
Whoosh—!
The axe tore through the air.
“…!”
It missed.
The silver wolf twisted midair, slipping just outside the arc of the blade.
Awooooo—
Landing far beyond Besimer, the Wolf King howled.
Grrr…
The hell wolves, momentarily cowed by Besimer’s ferocity, regained their savagery.
This time, the Wolf King would kill him together with the pack.
No longer father and son.
No longer chieftain and great warrior.
No longer king and successor.
Only predator and prey.
“Hah… haha… fuck…”
Besimer let out a hollow laugh.
That had been a full-force strike.
He had already lost too much blood.
His senses dulled, as if drunk.
He couldn’t even feel pain anymore.
Through his fading vision, the wolves rushed toward him.
From behind, his instincts screamed their final warning.
Fangs and claws closed in from all sides.
Ra Tu Balaka.
The phrase echoed in his mind.
If “Ra” became “Re”—
it meant himself.
I go to Balaka.
In that moment, he thought he saw it.
Balaka.
And there—
he was a child again.
A small, ordinary boy among the tribe’s children.
As Virpier had said—
he had once been a coward.
Maybe that was why he had hated Isaac at first—
because at that age, he himself could never have been like that.
But now…
none of that mattered.
The coward Besimer just wanted to rest.
“Besimer!”
A sharp voice cut through.
It sounded like a brat’s nagging—something he should’ve hated—
yet somehow, it snapped him out of the illusion.
As his vision cleared—
he saw hell wolves collapsing like puppets with cut strings.
“…!?”
In the direction the Wolf King had charged—
Carlson now stood.
Around him lay scattered wolf corpses.
One of the Wolf King’s ears had been severed.
Dark blood matted its silver fur.
“Die! Just die!”
“Aaaaargh!”
Now, at last, Besimer heard it—
the desperate, furious cries of the soldiers.
There were still many wolves.
Enough to fill the camp and block the view.
But somehow—
he no longer felt like giving up.
Because standing beside him was—
that pale, frail boy still holding his sword.
No—
the Frost Demon.
“You came to die?”
Besimer asked Isaac with a faint grin.
“As if.”
“That’s the only stance you know?”
Isaac stood ready—
the same upward strike stance he had used in their duel.
“Were you planning to die?”
Isaac answered with a question.
“Carlson killed Virpier.”
“Did he go as a man, or as a wolf?”
“As a wolf.”
“Hah… fitting. That bastard died like a dog. Good.”
Besimer dropped to one knee, unable to stand.
He planted the axe head into the ground and leaned on it, gasping.
His body had no strength left.
He wanted to sleep.
To rest.
He was exhausted.
“It’s your turn now.”
“Look at me first… I’m about to leave for Balaka.”
“It’s an order, Besimer of the Baitur.”
Isaac didn’t even listen.
He simply spoke, firmly.
Besimer found it absurd.
Anyone else would’ve died long ago—he was barely holding on.
And yet—an order?
But strangely—
even at the brink of death,
he couldn’t ignore this boy’s words.
No—
they struck straight into his heart.
Why?
It was obvious.
Because this moment—
was the one he had always longed for.
Yet never dared to hope for.
Not to be buried in the past with his kin—
but to live in the present.
Isaac was the devil who had come to grant that wish.
“Kill the Wolf King.”
“….”
“Let your father rest.”
The devil spoke.
“…Hah.”
Besimer looked up at the night sky.
Thirteen years ago—
the moon had looked just like this.
“…I will… obey.”
The giant slowly rose.
To follow the devil’s words.