Tower of Karma
Vol. 1 - Ch. 7 - The Battle for Laconia (7): The Maddened Beast

"A cavalry charge from the west! Likely—"

"Stracles, no doubt."

A large man rose slowly and heavily. Clad in white armor, his figure was that of a seasoned warrior, a spitting image of a war god from a painting. That man was—

"General Valdias, to the battlefield!"

The unyielding Valdias.

Though he often seemed to be on the back foot, his battles were won with a counter-strategy. He waited for the overconfident enemy to make their move, then striked their vital point with a heavy, decisive blow—a "heavy battle" was his specialty. With this method, Valdiasmade himself the leading general in Arcadia.

"Black gold. As ever, a man of lightness."

"What's it to you, the immovable one is just oppressively heavy."

In the midst of a siege, an unlikely scene unfolded as generals on horseback faced off—something that shouldn't have been possible. Likely, only the supreme commanders and their aides anticipated this.

"The lieutenant isn’t with that man. He's probably commanding Laconia."

"Hmm."

Valdias responded with few words, his presence heavy.

"...Will Ostberg abandon Laconia?"

"Who knows? I'm just a soldier. I don't meddle in politics."

Both generals lowered the visors of their helmets. Their faces became unseen, but their imposing presence intensified.

"What of it? Kimon is a capable soldier, isn't he? It's not as if Laconia's fall is certain, hahaha."

"Because he’s capable, his lack of will to win is transparent. Stracles!"

Sparks flew between their forces. Though there were less than a hundred combined, the intensity matched, if not surpassed, the battle at the fort's front. The heaviness was incomparable.

"I’ll take your head, Valdias!"

Both charged simultaneously. The large man on his galloping steed. Valdias wielded a great spear, Stracles a great sword. Both brandished weapons too large for ordinary men to carry.

A flash as they pass each other.

"Kuh, oh?!"

A thunderous sound that made both armies flinch.

"Guhah."

"Nun!"

They continued to clash, their blades meeting with terrifying speed and weight. Their basic specs far exceeded those of ordinary soldiers, rendering skill irrelevant.

A white and black dance. An unintended duel ensues. As usual, Valdias and Stracles faced off. It would be utterly tasteless for anyone to interfere. If there were such a rude person here, it would quickly turn into a deadly melee. Of course, any such person would be swiftly cut down.

A duel that no one else can enter.

"Why did you move?!"

"My apologies for that. Various things happened."

Strong. Swift. Extremely heavy.

"Well, it's all in the past. Enjoy the moment, immovable one!"

"You who have sullied the battlefield with this farce shall perish!"

Their physical strength collides with even greater force.

༺༻

Atop the outer wall, a pool of blood has formed at the top of the ladder. The accumulated blood of both Arcadian and Ostberg armies. The more lives that were lost, the deeper this fountain grew. The battlefield is a place where lives are consumed. No matter how much romance one tries to add, that fact does not waver. Various reasons, various justices intersect. The battlefield is complex. And yet, in reality—

"Fujururururuuuuu!"

Above all, it's simple. No matter the intentions, only one thing dominates this place.

"Ha, ha, baaah?"

Power alone. As if embodying this, a beast wandered onto the human battlefield.

The crimson gem that spilled from its chest shone as if to represent the blood-soaked fate of the beast.

Its body was slender and flexible. Covered in springy muscles, it moved lightly, hiding sharp fangs.

"It's twisted. And—"

The man looking at the beast saw a horde of ghosts clinging to it. Merely an image, yet it represented the essence of humanity. This aura, if one could call it that, projected a twisted spirit to an extreme degree. A grotesque, maddened world.

The spirit surpasses the body. Hence, a boost in specs.

"—Strong!"

"Jaaaaaaaah!"

The white beast leaped at the man. It moved like a quadrupedal beast, hands touching the ground. There was no rhyme or reason, it simply did as it pleased. And that's what made it troublesome.

"Surround it."

At the man's command, the beast was separated from the rampaging horde. The beast paid it no mind.

The man and beast were encircled. The inside was lined with long shields, forming a wall. On the outside, the man's subordinates worked to eliminate the frenzied crowd. Now it was perfect.

"Now we can test to our heart's content, can't we?"

The man received the beast's fangs. By now, a Centurion could have been dead. The fact that the man could parry the beast's attacks spoke of his strength.

"Gurururuu."

Seeing that a direct approach wouldn’t work, the beast kicked up the shield to take "the higher ground."

"Taking the heavens?!"

Humans are vulnerable to attacks from above. The more battle-hardened one is, the more specialized they become in flat-plane combat, making overhead attacks unexpected and thus vital. The heavens are a warrior's weak point.

"Too weak."

The man easily deflected it. That alone showed his extraordinary battle experience. He knew the weak points and prepared for them. He could respond to rare movements. Therefore, he had no openings.

"Fushaaaah!"

But the beast is not so sweet. No, it had discarded sweetness to become a beast. It can abandon humanity and follow its instincts, making it a beast. Humans know humans. Instincts know human weak points.

Aiming for the feet—a low stance attack impossible for bipedal beings, targeting the ankles. Of course, for bipedal humans, this is a vital point.

"Still too weak."

The man planted his sword in the ground to receive the attack. The beast, its second strike blocked, released the sword without hesitation. It still had claws to tear flesh and fangs to crush bone. In close quarters, the beast lunged for the man's neck—

"It's weak, I tell you!"

The man grabs the beast's neck and punches its belly with his free hand.

"Gogaaaaaaabogeeeeeeaaaah!"

The beast was sent flying, spewing vomit. The white beast fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

"What's the use of a human falling to a beast? You fool."

The man's interest fades. He has almost finished assessing.

"If you've fallen to a beast, you could see plenty of that in a freak show or an arena. They're all quite strong, but in the end, they're just beasts. They'll never reach the level of a true warrior."

The man sighed, looking at the beast that paid no heed to his words, only repeating "It hurts, it hurts." Before him was not a warrior in the making, but a non-human.

"The general will be disappointed. He had hoped to find some meaning in this farce."

Having lost interest, the man turned to finish the remaining tasks when—

"It's okay, Al. Your sister is here. Pain, pain, go away. See, it doesn't hurt anymore, does it?"

At the eerie voice, the man whirls back to the beast.

"Ow, it hurts. I'm scared."

"Yes, it's big, strong, and 'black'... that sheep is scary, isn't it?"

The man's brows furrow.

"Ow, I'm scared."

The white-haired man stood up. His demeanor had completely regressed, though his appearance remains unchanged. And at the same time, the man saw something unbelievable. An aura, like that which surrounds those who have achieved something, formed a skeleton amidst the writhing mass of bodies. A common image of death, but within it, a black-haired maiden seems to lovingly and gently embrace the young man as if to protect him.

An independent entity, not influenced by will. The man had never felt such an image from another person. In his long history of battle and life, he had never seen such an incomprehensible sight.

"It's okay, I'm here with you. I'll protect you."

"Thank you, Sister Arlette."

And the young man, speaking to himself, was a mass of creepiness. He used two different voices, as if having a conversation. Or perhaps, he believed he was.

“...”

At the end of the man's gaze, the bodies seemed to swallow the youth whole. Normally, one would lose their self and go mad if consumed in such a way. The man had seen many succumb to this fate—in battlefields, arenas, sideshows, and places of death.

"Hehe, isn't he adorable? This child is not yet strong. Timid, tearful, delicate, and needs a lullaby sung to him at night to fall asleep. My precious treasure."

The bodies swelled, led by a maiden with black hair. She embraced, protected, and guarded the youth from the brink. The maiden gently opened her mouth.

"If it's taken, let's take it back. If it's stolen, let's steal it. If we're killed, let's kill. No forgiveness is given, and even if we beg and look up to the heavens, God gives us nothing. So, let's take, let's steal, let's kill. My little treasure. Kill the mad world that took me away."

The lullaby's gentle tune belied the lyrics' content, which was filled with despair, hatred, and darkness.

The bodies bled profusely. The maiden shed tears of blood. The youth, too, was crying.

The trembling ruby transformed sorrow, despair, hatred, and rage into beauty, shining brilliantly. The crimson that represented the youth himself continued to shine unchangingly, even in this mysterious situation.

"Ufufu, such a beautiful red. It suits this child perfectly... I'm almost jealous."

The atmosphere around the black-haired maiden changed. The man noticed but couldn't predict her next move.

Caught off guard, she swiftly flew to the side of those forming a wall of shields. Without anyone stopping her, she reached between the shields and snatched away a sword. The crowd couldn't hide their surprise at her quick action.

"I'm an amateur... so please go easy on me."

Then, as if dancing, she beheaded two men nearby. At that moment, the bodies raised voices of joy. A dark heart that welcomed comrades, rejoicing in the death and misfortune of others.

"Two swords mean twice the strength, don't you think?"

The man narrowed his eyes in displeasure. An aura emanated from him.

Seeing this, the white youth controlled by the black maiden also narrowed his eyes.

"Hmm, a big sheep. You're strong, aren't you?"

Around the man, something like a mist overflowed. It was black, with two horns—a sheep. It seems that experienced warriors could see such a thing when they faced him.

"I am Kimon, the Black Sheep. Kimon von Gunter. Name yourself, monster!"

Thus, he was dubbed "Black Sheep."

"William Livius... that is 'our' name. We will swallow all worlds, subdue them, and seize the world! Thirsty, starving, unbearable!"

"William" began to move. He raised the stolen sword and charged at the man who called himself Kimon. Inside the bodies, a youth with red hair cried out in resentment. A grand chorus of bodies.

A flash at Kimon's throat—

"Did you think you could reach me, woman? My name is Kimon. The strongest man in the Kingdom of Ostberg, the right hand of the great general Stracles. Your thoughts are... too light to even be considered a joke!"

Kimon's sword, his single strike, brought down "William's" entire body and soul. Both swords shattered, and the aura of the bodies dissipated. What remained—

"Oh, I guess I couldn't win after all."

The image of the black-haired maiden and the youth, "William," controlled by her, easily released the broken swords and dodged Kimon's sword. However, they couldn't stop the momentum of the diagonal cut and fell to the ground.

"Then, onto plan two."

At the spot where he fell, there was William's sword that had been dropped beforehand.

"Are you going to face me with that?"

Glancing at it, Kimon pointed his sword. William smirked—

"Why would I fight if I can't win? I'm running away."

He leaped backward. With a nimble turn, he continued his momentum and sliced through the head of a soldier acting as a wall. No one expected this move, not even Kimon.

"It's bland. It's not worth eating... but I'll take it."

William danced around, beheading as he went. Severing lives as if plucking flowers. His gentle smile and vibrant ruby contrasted with the tragedy.

"Spread out! Make way!"

Kimon's orders meant nothing in this abnormal situation.

"Hehe, this way, this way."

In this packed place of humans, it was impossible for ordinary people to move around. But William moved as he pleased. In his wake, lifeless husks piled up.

"You might be stronger, but you 'all' are bound, so we can surpass you. Once we pass you, we'll never be caught by comrades, rules, laws, ethics... all so meaningless."

William stood on the edge of the outer wall. His gentle smile was seductively colored by blood and ruby red.

"That's a dead end. Now, I’ll cut you down!"

Pushing aside his subordinates, Kimon approached William with an angry expression.

"Such common sense is also 'no good.' If you think like that, this child will catch up to you soon. This child may be timid and delicate... but diligent, hardworking, and above all, starving. For love."

The moment he said that, William leaned his back away from Kimon.

"What?!"

That was mid-air. Below the outer wall was the ground, and if struck down, death awaited.

"Let's meet again. By then, this child will surely eat you, and you’ll become a part of us."

The phantom images of the bodies surged. Among them, Kimon could see the bodies of his subordinates.

"Wait!"

Kimon's attempt to stop him was in vain, as William was pulled by gravity and fell from the outer wall.

"Damn."

Kimon leaned over the edge of the wall to look at the ground. Below, the Arcadian army swarmed, and the hard ground wasn’t visible. Life or death was uncertain.

If Kimon had faced him, it would have been desperate. Falling from here, there was a chance of not dying.

"...I don't know what happened."

A gamble with life at stake. Not a good bet. But still, it was the most rational choice for survival. The epitome of reason. Without discarding all emotions, one cannot make such a life-risking bet.

"Notify the entire army. We’ve lost this battle."

The order was squeezed out as if forced. Kimon's real job was to skillfully retreat from this losing battle. Hence, a farce. As Valdias had sensed, this Laconian siege was nothing but a farce.

The subordinates ordered to retreat began to move quickly to carry out the command.

"..."

Kimon gazed at the ground alone, thinking of the opponent he had just faced. It was a being so different from anything he had encountered before, he couldn't fathom how it would grow.

"Sir Kimon, it's about time."

A subordinate called out to Kimon. Kimon nodded silently and looked away from the wall.

“...”

He turned on his heel to retreat. One step, two steps,

"Let's meet again."

Kimon was struck by a chilling sensation. It felt as if a voice was blowing in his ear "from behind." When Kimon turned around sharply, there was nothing there.

"...I'm in trouble. I might have let something terrible slip away."

Kimon was convinced that "William" was alive. And he was troubled by the thought that this might later affect him, Stracles, and Ostberg.

༺༻

"It seems you've managed to retreat well."

"Well, Kimon is excellent, after all. Gahaha."

After exchanging several blows and their weapons beginning to chip, the two took a mutual step back. Valdias and Stracles both sensed the end of the battle.

"Shall we pursue?"

"No. We'll just be outrun by the speed of the cavalry anyway."

"Gahaha! Thanks to you, I was able to enjoy this battle a bit!"

"Hmph, it's just an act in a farce."

"You're not honest. Well, that's it... I don't know yet, but let me assert one thing."

"...?"

Valdias raised a question mark at Stracles' meaningful smile.

"The times are changing! An era unknown to us is coming!"

Stracles spread his arms wide, shouting joyfully. Even through his armor, his delight was palpable. Valdias lifted his mask.

"What did you find in this farce?"

"A lot. It's not just this battle. We've had our share of things too."

With that, Stracles skillfully handled the reins and turned his horse around.

"Neither of us want to miss out, huh, guhaha."

"I have no intention of riding on such a trivial flow. If you're going to retreat, do it quickly."

"Gahahahaha. Then farewell!"

Stracles rode off briskly, his back filled with a vigor that belied a defeated general.

"A new era, huh? Ridiculous."

But Valdias also had a premonition. A feeling that something was changing. The fact that Laconia was captured this time might be a sign of that change...

Until now, Laconia had been marked on the map as a territory of Arcadia for just under a decade. This was a long-term rule not often seen in Laconian history. And now, it had been decided that Arcadia would govern this land for an even longer term. This was a first for both Arcadia and Ostberg.

Which way the scales have tipped—towards Arcadia or Ostberg—is still unknown to anyone.