Chapter 43
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Bwooooo—!
In the dead of night, chaos erupted in the camp.
The blaring of horn trumpets tore through the air, and urgent drumbeats roused soldiers and tribesmen alike.
“Attack! It’s an attack!”
“Hell wolves!”
Amid tension and fear, the soldiers shouted the same words over and over.
“Th-the brat—no, the lord?”
“He went out with the captain.”
“The company commander?”
“Him too.”
At the moment, the camp was without its highest-ranking leaders.
The veterans had no choice but to step up as platoon leaders, organizing squads of ten.
Günter was among them.
“What’s going on?”
Günter asked the veterans.
“No clue, damn it. The guy on watch at the tower said he saw a pack of hell wolves.”
“What the hell is happening… damn, my head…”
Some soldiers grabbed their weapons, while others staggered around clutching their hangovers.
No one seemed to know the full situation.
“Waaah—!”
Frightened children burst into tears, and the women held them close, casting anxious glances around.
After reassuring the tribespeople, Günter climbed the watchtower where the horn was being blown.
“What did you see?”
“There—there it is.”
The night guard pointed into the distance.
The moonlight was dim, clouds covering the sky.
It was hard to make out what lay far away.
“Isn’t that just dry brush?”
“Look closer… light… red light…”
Something lurked on the hill, but the torchlight made it hard to see clearly.
Only faint silhouettes.
“…What are you doing?”
Günter suddenly grabbed the torch fixed to the tower and threw it outside.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he finally saw them clearly.
“Ah…”
A low groan escaped him.
The worst enemies had come at the worst possible time.
“How… is this possible?”
More than a dozen hell wolves.
Their glowing red eyes flickered in the dark.
If it were just his imagination, the guard wouldn’t have sounded the horn.
“Günter! What do you see!? Are they really hell wolves!?”
One of the veterans shouted from below the barricade.
Günter drew a line across his cheek with his index finger—
then held up two fingers before clenching his fist.
A signal: hell wolves, at least twenty.
“Damn it. Set up the barricades! Arm yourselves!”
“Those damn mutts are back! This time we won’t leave a single one alive!”
Once Günter confirmed it, the camp was instantly filled with the tension of impending battle.
The half-asleep soldiers snapped awake, grabbed their weapons, and steeled themselves.
“Give the women, children, and elders something to hold!”
Daggers, pokers, crude wooden spears were thrust into the hands of the tribespeople.
They clutched at soldiers from their tribe, asking what was happening—
and soon turned pale, gripping their makeshift weapons tightly.
“Th-then what about the young master… the lord?”
Hans asked a veteran with a hooked nose—his nose red, likely from heavy drinking the night before.
“…Tch.”
That red-nosed veteran had once “disciplined” Hans with his fists for being insolent—
after Hans talked back when the man mocked Isaac’s assigned fertilizer work.
“The young master will come back, right? From the Black Forest? He’s not the kind to die in a place like that…”
“Worry about arming yourself properly, you idiot.”
The red-nosed man lightly smacked the back of Hans’s head and tightened the loose belt around his waist.
“They’ll be back. Sir Carlson is with him… and Besimer too.”
Hans’s voice trembled slightly.
“He’s probably alive. That brat’s nickname is the Frost Demon, right? Where do demons come from? Hell. Hell wolves are just watchdogs there.”
“You said you’ve got a son, didn’t you?”
“If you want to see your son—or that brat lord—alive, then worry about your own life first. Got it?”
The red-nosed man slapped Hans’s cheek a couple of times.
“Grab a sword. Unless you want to die pointlessly.”
Hans, dazed, shoved his scabbard into his belt.
His fingertips trembled faintly.
This was his first life-or-death battle.
It felt like a nightmare from that day was coming back to life.
“Who knows? Maybe that demon brat will ride in on a hell wolf. Heh, that’d be pretty damn cool.”
…
It was meant as a joke, but Hans didn’t react at all.
The red-nosed man glanced at him briefly before running toward the soldiers setting up barricades.
“They’re coming! They’re coming!”
Günter shouted.
“Faster! Move faster!”
“Hurry it up, you rookies!”
“If you don’t want to die, put some strength into it!”
The soldiers shouted over one another as they rushed to reinforce the barricades.
“Archers, assemble! Archers, assemble!”
Archers carrying longbows and crossbows lined up about ten paces from the camp entrance under the veterans’ orders.
In front of them, barricades were arranged in a zigzag pattern.
Crossbows were loaded.
Arrows were nocked.
This wasn’t their first time facing hell wolves.
They had repelled them before—though never a large-scale battle like the one when the Wolf King himself appeared.
What was different now?
Besimer wasn’t here.
Their forces were less than half of what they used to be.
And now, they had civilians to protect.
That was the difference.
“Three are charging ahead! Two hundred! One-fifty!”
“…Damn.”
The archers cursed under their breath, cold sweat forming as Günter’s shouted numbers dropped rapidly.
Distance to the enemy.
But only three wolves were charging?
Hadn’t there been over twenty?
One archer who saw Günter’s earlier signal frowned, confused—but shook his head.
No time to think.
They weren’t elite archers—just soldiers who knew how to shoot.
In the end, it would come down to brutal close combat.
Still… if fortune smiled upon them, maybe one arrow might hit a wolf’s eye.
They clung to that slim hope.
Crossbowmen had already aimed at the camp entrance.
“One hundred! Fifty!”
Creaaak!
Longbowmen pulled their strings taut.
The drawn bowstrings trembled with explosive tension.
The archers’ arms shook.
“They’re here!”
At that moment, as Günter shouted—
Three massive beasts burst into view at the camp entrance.
Twang—!
Whizz—!
Arrows and bolts shot forward, driven by the release of taut bowstrings.
The moment they fired, the archers knew.
This will hit.
After long experience in battle, one develops that instinct—
whether with bow, sword, fist, or shield.
The moment you strike or release, you know it will land.
It’s a survival instinct—sharper in those who’ve lived longer.
And their instinct was correct.
But there is a difference between hitting and striking true.
The sharp sound of something cutting through air rang out.
Carlson knocked aside an arrow with his sword,
while Besimer caught a bolt aimed at Isaac—with his bare hand.
Grrrrr—!
Three hell wolves revealed themselves under the brazier light at the camp entrance.
Only after seeing them bare their fangs and growl did the soldiers realize something was off.
Even though more than twenty hell wolves had appeared, there was none of the usual howling or savage snarling.
Only after the arrows flew did the wolves’ red eyes flash with hostility.
But even that felt different from before.
Rather than “we’ll kill you,”
it felt closer to a warning—“be careful.”
“Damn… am I still half asleep?”
The red-nosed veteran rubbed his eyes.
He had predicted the future more accurately than anyone in the camp—
yet he never expected it to actually come true.
Three massive wolves.
And on their backs—
Carlson, Besimer, and Isaac.
The soldiers couldn’t tell whether their minds had gone wrong or reality itself had.
When absurdity reaches a certain level, it simply turns people into fools.
“How is it? Good enough?”
Amid the stunned gazes, Isaac asked Carlson.
“Still lacking. It needs refinement.”
“With the higher-ups gone, this should be enough, shouldn’t it?”
Besimer casually toyed with the bolt he had caught earlier.
Unlike Carlson, who looked dissatisfied, Besimer seemed inclined to defend the soldiers.
“…What in the world is going on?”
While most soldiers stood dazed at the sight of the three riding hell wolves,
Günter—who had come down from the watchtower—asked.
***
Days passed.
Besimer and the soldiers no longer needed to enter the Black Forest to hunt magical beasts.
Thud!
During a dawn run, a hell wolf dropped a wild boar in front of the camp entrance before disappearing over the hill.
Soon after, another brought a deer.
Then another carried a rabbit as large as an adult’s waist.
“Keep running! Don’t break formation!”
As the wolves’ occasional visits disrupted the formation, Carlson barked orders.
The wolf that had left the prey trotted away across the plains as if nothing had happened.
***
The next day, a hell wolf began digging into the frozen ground.
It uprooted the blue flowers that had sprouted where fertilizer had been placed,
then drove its claws into the frozen earth.
At first, it was just one.
Even then, wary soldiers followed it in groups of three or four, armed and cautious.
Then two wolves.
Then three.
More and more wolves began digging the land that would become farmland.
Whenever meat was needed, hell wolves would appear carrying prey.
Those digging the frozen soil would arrive at dawn and leave for the Black Forest at dusk.
At first, the soldiers watched them with suspicion and hostility.
But gradually—
They became accustomed to facing those massive beasts.
****
About half a month later, even the fearless tribal children began playing with the hell wolves.
They buried their faces in the wolves’ fur,
tugged on their tails,
and even tried to climb onto their backs.
Grrr…
Each time, the wolves would growl—
but it was merely annoyance, not aggression.
The children found it amusing and burst into laughter,
and playing with the wolves became routine.
The soldiers and women had to sweat trying to stop them.
This utterly strange scene slowly became part of everyday life in Vinfelt.
***
“My lord, a letter has arrived.”
Carlson entered Isaac’s tent.
Isaac was deeply immersed in research—trying to make use of the changes within himself.
Through his mental connection with the hell wolves,
and by indirectly experiencing their senses,
his own perception had become far sharper than before.
More importantly—
The mana circuits of magical beasts, which used mana instinctively, opened a whole new horizon for him.
He had always understood such things in theory through magical studies.
But experiencing them directly was entirely different.
“My lord.”
Carlson called again as Isaac sat meditating on a blanket.
“…Hoo.”
Isaac exhaled deeply and opened his eyes.
“It’s from Waller, isn’t it? Give it here.”
He took the letter and read it.
“What does it say?”
“One piece of bad news I expected… and one I didn’t.”
The neat handwriting was unmistakably Waller’s.
“What is it?”
“They couldn’t find livestock to plow the fields. My father won’t allow horses, and cattle or donkeys are rare—not just in Goethe, but in nearby regions as well. They use horses there.”
“That was expected. And the unexpected?”
“A royal inspector is coming.”
Isaac folded the letter.
“An inspector?”
“Yeah.”
“…It’s not about the bishop of the old church, is it?”
“Who knows. The royal court sends inspectors once a year to check for anything suspicious. It could be routine… or, like you said, my father might be questioned.”
“What will you do?”
“Seems Waller reported what’s been happening in Vinfelt. My father is calling for me.”
“…Did he report everything?”
“Unlikely. He’s a sensible steward. But he probably mentioned the battle with the Wolf King. He wouldn’t know about controlling hell wolves.”
Isaac stood and stretched.
“If we’re going to find a blacksmith, we need to stop by Bern anyway.”
Even though he could now command hell wolves thanks to the Wolf King’s rune stone,
there was a limit to what their claws could do in breaking frozen land.
They needed proper plows.
And for that, they needed good iron—and skilled blacksmiths.
“We’re heading home. Prepare.”
“Yes, sir.”
***
Whoooosh—
As Carlson left, the wind slipped through the gaps in the tent.
Vinfelt was a barren land with nothing to block the wind,
so it blew stronger than in most places.
As it passed between objects, it sometimes made strange sounds.
Some said it was the cries of the dead.
Others said it was the whisper of spirits.
Either way—
The sound of the wind made one feel lonely.
Perhaps because of that—
Isaac suddenly found himself wanting to hear Jonas’s piano once again.