Chapter 36

Ra Tu Balaka (1)

Clang, ka-clang.

Besimer swung his axe.
The Wolf King’s claws struck it, scattering sparks as they were deflected.

Grrr!

A Hell Wolf that had been waiting for an opening lunged at Besimer.
He managed to cut one down, but another immediately went for his neck—forcing Besimer to give up his shoulder instead.
The Hell Wolf clamped its jaws onto his shoulder and shook its head violently, as if trying to tear it off.

Besimer frowned slightly, then drove his fist straight into the wolf’s snout.

Yelp—

The Hell Wolf staggered back with a pitiful cry that didn’t match its size.
It was an instinctive retreat from pain—but the end that followed was an axe blade rising upward.
Half its neck was severed in a fatal strike.

The axe handle, sticky with half-dried blood, grew slick again with fresh blood.
Right in front of the watching Hell Wolves, Besimer openly began skinning the dying wolf.

Whine, whimper—

The wolf thrashed in agony as it died, but it couldn’t resist Besimer’s brutal grip as he drove the axe into its spine and tore the hide from its back.
By the time he ripped it free, the wolf was already dead.

Riiip!

Besimer tore the partially removed hide further with his hands, then wrapped it around the arm holding the axe like a bandage.
He tightened it firmly so his grip wouldn’t slip on the handle.
He did it with practiced ease, as if he had done it many times before.

Throughout all of this, not a single Hell Wolf dared to approach him.
As if terrified by the dying wolf’s screams, their tails and ears drooped low.

Among them, only the Wolf King stood firm, glaring at Besimer.
Its right eye glowed yellow, but its left—marked by a long scar—was a dull gray, as if it had lost its sight.
No fur grew over the scarred area, making the wound stand out even more.
Blood dripping from its torn ear gathered in that gray eye before running down.

Besimer adjusted the wolf hide wrapped around the axe handle with his three remaining fingers and met the Wolf King’s gaze.

Why the Wolf King had lost sight in its left eye—
no one knew better than Besimer himself.

As a child, Besimer had wanted to grow stronger.
He had been fooled by his brothers, who told him that eating demon mushrooms would make him strong.
He ventured deep into the Black Forest searching for them—and encountered a massive bear.
No, it was closer to a demonic beast than a mere bear.

Just as he sensed death—

His father, a great warrior and chieftain, saved him.
With a terrifying axe strike, he felled the beast in a single blow, but he couldn’t completely avoid its claws.

“Don’t cry. You are a warrior.”

Half his face was drenched in blood, yet his father spoke calmly.

***

The Wolf King’s gray, sightless eye.
That unfocused, pale gaze was the last trace of his father left to Besimer.

And the reason for this battle.

How long had he waited for this fight?
How long had he waited to speak with him?

This was the moment he had longed for.

All the words left unspoken between father and son—his longing, his resentment—
Besimer intended to deliver them through the axe his father had given him.

“Ra Tu Balaka.”

Besimer exhaled deeply and tightened his grip on the axe.

Grrr!

The Wolf King dodged the rising blade, dug its claws into the ground, and launched itself forward with explosive force.
Blood and mud splattered from where it had been.

Its target was Besimer’s axe arm.
As if determined to rip it off completely, it charged with its jaws wide open.

Besimer twisted his body aside, intending to evade and counterattack—

But instead of biting, the Wolf King slammed into him with its massive body.

“Ghk!”

The impact of such a huge beast, combining speed and weight, was overwhelming.
Besimer was sent flying, smashing through a burning tent.

“Will he be okay like that?”
“Leave him. This is something Besimer has to do.”

Isaac grabbed Carlson’s arm as he tightened his grip on his sword.

The situation had taken a strange turn.
An inexplicable tension hung between Besimer and the Wolf King, and both the Hell Wolves and the soldiers had stopped fighting.
They naturally formed separate circles, surrounding the clearing.

And they watched.

How their leader fought.

Holding their breath, observing carefully.

“And you know… there’s no better situation than this.”

At Isaac’s words, Carlson silently looked between Besimer and the Wolf King.

He was right.

They were outnumbered.
Individually, the soldiers were also weaker.

They had held out this long, but if the battle had continued, they would likely have suffered near-annihilation.

The only solution was to kill the Wolf King.

Now, because of the duel, the fighting had stopped.
If Besimer won, there would be no more casualties.
Even if he lost, the exhausted Wolf King would be far easier to finish off.

In the meantime, Isaac and Carlson could conserve their strength.

Step.
Step.

From behind the collapsed tent, the giant staggered forward.
Soot covered his face and body.
His wounds—pierced, stabbed, slashed—were drenched in fresh blood, layered over dried stains.

With his free left hand, he wiped his face, leaving long streaks of blood and ash.

Like the war paint tribes wore before battle.

He stopped about five paces from the Wolf King.

He raised his axe and pointed it at the beast.

Grrrr—

Deep wrinkles formed on the Wolf King’s brow and snout.

“Young master.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Isaac nodded at Carlson’s words.

Here, only Isaac and Carlson truly understood mana.

That tingling sensation crawling across the skin—
both Besimer and the Wolf King could use mana.

Not because they had learned it, but instinctively—like breathing or a beating heart.

Perhaps that was why the soldiers and Hell Wolves had stopped fighting.

They had felt it.

A heavy, dense, razor-sharp aura of mana began gathering around the giant and the Wolf King.

As the mana thickened, it began to glow faintly blue, visible even to the naked eye—

And at nearly the same moment, both charged.

Claws and axe clashed repeatedly, tearing through the air with explosive force.

The sound wasn’t just metal against claw—
it was like thunder cracking.

A moment later, the shockwave spread outward, chilling the soldiers to the bone.
It made every hair on their bodies stand on end.

Boom!

The tide of battle turned against Besimer.

He was blocking the Wolf King’s strikes, but only barely.
Each blow was unbearably heavy, sending vibrations through his bones.

His feet sank deeper into the mud or were pushed backward.
His entire body staggered with each impact.

The shockwaves left his ears ringing.
He swung his axe purely on instinct—unable to tell how he was defending, or what would happen next.

And yet—

Strangely, Besimer felt no fear.

He didn’t feel like he was going to die.
He might lose—but his life didn’t feel in danger.

Had his survival instinct shut down in the heat of battle?

No.

A left forepaw tore through the air diagonally—
if he ducked, a right forepaw would rise from below immediately.
As if anticipating his axe, a massive charge followed instantly.

At some point—

The Wolf King had stopped using its fangs.

Like a man wielding two weapons,
it fought using only its forelegs and body.

And the flow of its attacks felt…

familiar.

It stirred an old memory.

—

“How am I supposed to block that!?”
“If you can’t block it, you’ll die on the battlefield.”

• “But…!”
• “Do you think there’s such a thing as ‘but’ on the battlefield? You are my children. One of you will lead the tribe, and when I walk the wrong path, one of you must stop me. Save your complaints for after you’re dead.”

Their father would speak sternly to the brothers as they whimpered after being struck by the stick he used in place of an axe.
And in every sparring match, he would leave them in despair with attacks they couldn’t even begin to figure out how to respond to.

• “Get up! Get up, Besimer! How long are you going to just lie there!? Get up and grab your weapon. The only thing granted to a warrior who gives up in battle… is death.”

That was it.

What Besimer was facing now—though its body was that of a giant wolf—
its fighting style was that of his father from his childhood.
The chieftain who crushed challengers with axes in both hands.

The Wolf King was using its forelegs like axes.
The trajectory, the balance—it was all familiar to Besimer.

It felt like undergoing the coming-of-age ritual he had never completed.
The final trial of the Baitur rite was to withstand the attacks of the chieftain, who took the form of a great wolf.

The axe strikes he had never once managed to endure as a child—
now, he was somehow managing to contend with them.
Yet even after more than a decade, they were still overwhelming.

And yet, for some reason—

A smile slowly spread across Besimer’s face.

‘Do you remember this? The “rhino step” you taught me, Father.’

Besimer took two steps forward, then planted one foot heavily as he raised his axe high.

The Wolf King lightly stepped back and avoided it.

‘And this? The wolf-cut I first succeeded at when I was a child.’

Closing the distance, Besimer brought the raised axe crashing down.

As Besimer pressed in, the Wolf King swung its foreleg.

Boom!

Countless exchanges followed.

Besimer looked as if he might collapse at any moment, and every time he swung his axe with full force, he had to hold his breath, leaving him gasping.
Yet despite the pain, his body—driven by momentum—kept moving without pause.

Still, there was a limit.

Boom—

Another explosive clash sent shockwaves sweeping in all directions.
Besimer’s defensive stance broke.

His body had already reached its limit.
His legs could no longer support his unbalanced upper body, and he was thrown to the ground.

A dark shadow loomed over him.

All he could see were the glowing yellow eyes.

Grrr!

Barely, Besimer managed to block the Wolf King’s jaws with the axe handle.

Crack—crunch—

Teeth like finely honed daggers gnawed against the metal haft.

“Wait.”

Isaac suddenly extended his arm, stopping Carlson, who had raised his sword.

“At this rate, he’ll die.”
“Can’t you see? He’s smiling.”

At Isaac’s words, Carlson narrowed his eyes and looked at Besimer.

Just as Isaac said—

Besimer was smiling.

“Well, he’s not exactly sane, is he?”
“Is he, though?”

While Carlson fidgeted anxiously, Isaac watched calmly.

The Wolf King’s jaws were right in front of Besimer’s face, ready to crush his skull at any moment.

And yet Isaac felt no unease.

He saw two warriors.

They were having a conversation.

There were no cups raised, no words exchanged—

But to Isaac, it was a fierce dialogue, releasing years of unresolved emotions between father and son.

“Let’s not interrupt their final conversation.”
“…What?”

Carlson asked again, but Isaac didn’t answer.

He simply folded his arms and continued watching.

***

Besimer remembered.

His father’s final lesson.

• “If you ever face an enemy you think you cannot defeat, wait until the very last moment. The instant you think everything is over—that is your chance to counterattack. Your enemy will let their guard down.”

To demonstrate, his father had once allowed himself to be driven into a corner during sparring.
His back was on the ground, and his standing opponent struck down mercilessly.

At that moment, his father escaped with skill bordering on artistry.

Now, the situation was exactly the same.

What did you do then?

Besimer thought—

No.

His body moved first.

Gripping the axe handle tightly with both hands, he lifted one leg.
Then, summoning every ounce of strength, he twisted his body inward.

From thigh to hips to lower back, his muscles snapped into motion, accelerating the rotation.

Click.

The axe handle slipped free, and the Wolf King’s teeth snapped shut against each other.

The freed axe spun once in the air and grazed the Wolf King’s cheek.

Startled, the Wolf King stepped back—

But Besimer immediately followed, leaping forward.

He aimed straight for its forehead.

The axe blade carved a straight line through the air.

“Father… I came too late.”

****

On a night filled with the chirping of insects,
deep within the Black Forest, the bodies of warriors burned atop funeral pyres.

They were those who had died after being defeated by Goethe.
Having fallen as warriors, their souls would have gone to Balaka.

The youngest, Besimer, stood beside the Wolf King.

But the Wolf King was no longer a massive silver wolf.

It was the form of the Baitur chieftain.

A veteran warrior with long, disheveled silver hair and a beard that reached his chest.

Standing beside the towering chieftain, Besimer appeared as a small child—
just as he had been when mocked as a coward.

“You came at the right time.”

The Wolf King spoke.

It was a strong soul that had endured thirteen years without being consumed by savagery.
But even now, it was on the verge of being overtaken by the beast within.

Boiling bloodlust and instinct were eroding his human mind and form.

“So… this time, you stood against me?”
“With Virpire dead… what meaning does my existence have?”
“Do you resent me?”

The Wolf King placed a hand on the young Besimer’s shoulder.

It felt as heavy as iron.

“My soul will be freed. So will our kin. That is thanks to you, Besimer.”

“…But is your soul free?”

Besimer couldn’t answer.

“Now… what will you live for?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll find out.”

“…Good.”

The Wolf King chuckled softly and placed his large hand on Besimer’s head.

“Take care of Vinfelt.”

Thud—

The massive wolf collapsed lifelessly.
The axe blade was buried deep in its forehead.

Besimer, no longer having the strength to even hold the axe, slumped against the corpse.

“I’ll be waiting in Balaka.”

It felt like he could hear his father’s voice.