Tower of Karma
Vol. 1 - Ch. 24 - The Battle of Flanders (5): The Price of Passion

Volf accelerated further, using gravity to his advantage. None of his subordinates could keep up with him. Likewise, William also dashed up the slope to intercept him. The gazes directed at the enemy, whose movements exceeded their expectations, differed greatly between the two.

White was filled with outrage. Regardless of the circumstances, the fact that he had managed to escape the hole he had dug for himself was his own fault. If he were to be held responsible for the defeat, it would deal a significant blow to his career. Hence, his anger was overflowing.

Black was delighted. He had not expected the enemy to surprise them with such unexpected movements. A natural smile spread across his face at the presence of William Livius, a worthy adversary.

"Mercenary!"

White, William Livius' slashing attack gleamed. The wolf evaded it with his height advantage and innate leaping ability, and upon landing, he executed a spinning attack. However, the one who was supposed to be caught off guard, the white-masked one, deflected the sword's blade by striking the sheath at his waist.

"White Mask!"

The Black Wolf still had one sword left. The irrationality of the dual swords shone in this predicament. Quickly swinging his sword at the still backward-facing William, he aimed for the area just above the knee, which is the most difficult to avoid. However, William was not merely facing backward.

"Tch?!"

"Gah!"

Volf's sword had the advantage in speed of arrival, but William had the momentum. Sensing that he would be at a disadvantage if they ended up in a mutual strike, Volf forcibly adjusted his sword to match William's. William's sword, which lacked the momentum to break through, was deflected, and both of them were sent flying due to Volf's forced change of trajectory.

‘This guy?!’

The two, though similar in their upbringing, had walked vastly different paths.

White had polished his sword as a teacher, with the accumulated knowledge of the books as his foundation. He had ascended to this height by appropriating the wisdom of his predecessors. This was William's sword.

Black had honed his sword relying solely on his own experiences. Without learning from anyone or taking from anyone, he had drawn out the best within himself to reach this point. This was Volf's sword.

The two were contrasts, but they shared one crucial point, the most important one.

It was that they had both raced through, without a single compromise, the best they believed in, without a shadow of a doubt or hesitation. There were no detours, no wasted paths. Even if there were, they had climbed over them as sustenance. That was why the two were alike.

The youthful William and Volf, the white and the black, were—

"Hey, hey... our commander is on par with yours."

Equally at the pinnacle. Judging from their ages, both were remarkably precocious, and their potential for growth was immense. The insatiable desire for their boundless, expanding power originated from the same source of despair.

That was why they could not stop. They could not be stopped.

"Not bad, huh!"

The black wolf howled. The fool who had followed his path of seeking the truth was here as well. This fact soothed the thirst of the lone wolf. He was not alone. There was an enemy who shared his existence.

"Just die already!"

The horde of the deceased raised cries of resentment. The black wolf stood in the way of the one who had walked the best path. William had also thought the same— that he was the most superior of their generation in overall capability.

That was both joyful and hateful.

"So there's someone in our generation who can match our commander."

Volf's speed surpassed William's, but William continued to dispatch him rationally. Volf had the speed of a single move, while William had the precision. The battle was evenly matched. The horde of the deceased and the wolf devoured and empowered each other. With each passing move, the two grew more formidable.

""WOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!""

They danced wildly on the slightly opened hill, forgetting even to breathe. Swords grazed, and their blood-tinged winds swirled. The swords mowed down the grass and flowers, coloring the world. It was impossible for any outsider to enter the world they were creating.

Gulp. For those who could only observe, the captivating spectacle continued.

༺༻

The fight that seemed to go on forever suddenly came to an end.

"William!"

Carl and the others had finally arrived on the scene, albeit late. With their numbers, even Volf could have escaped. There was no need to rush the showdown, but—

"Volf! Horse hooves are approaching! If we stay like this, it'll be bad!"

The sound of horse hooves meant that the cavalry, led by Gilbert, was approaching. Even for Volf, facing both William and Gilbert would be too much.

"Shut up! I'm at the best part right now! Don't interfere!"

But Volf was high on the excitement and not thinking straight. He was determined to continue the battle despite the situation. His subordinates could only panic.

And then—

"Two fools. The black one is an ally too. Kill the black one."

With overwhelming speed, Gilbert and his knights appeared on the scene. It was checkmate. The unpleasant sweat ran down the backs of Volf's subordinates. The two words that came to their minds — "total annihilation" — expressed their despair.

"Crush them."

As soon as Gilbert gave the order, the knights charged towards Volf and his comrades.

"Damn it! If I had known it would turn out like this, I should've just saved up the money and bought some women instead!"

The black mercenaries were in battle formation. They were not weak by any means. Volf had brought them to take down the main base. They were among the most skilled mercenaries.

"Hmph! As if foot soldiers can beat cavalry!"

Foot soldiers versus cavalry. Their basic capabilities differed greatly. And the enemy were the knights under Gilbert's command, the kind that would normally be under a centurion.

"We went through the trouble of taking down the big shot, but if we lose the commander, it'll all be for naught, damn it!"

They were mercenaries too. They had long since made peace with the possibility of losing their lives. Still, this kind of scattering was not what they had in mind. From this cornered situation, they had to somehow keep their commander, the wolf they had come to admire, alive.

"It's a mutual kill, you bastards!"

They defiantly took up their swords against the approaching knights. The knights smiled at the sight. The swords of foot soldiers could not reach them on horseback. The absolute advantage of being on horseback had instilled a sense of overconfidence in the knights.

"Now is not the time to be playing around!"

A brilliant flash of an arrow pierced through that overconfidence, accompanied by a reprimand. The knight, still smiling from the advantage he thought he had, fell from his horse. Swiftly, powerfully, and with unparalleled accuracy, the arrow had brought down the heavily armored target.

"Who is that?!"

Only Gilbert understood the situation the moment the arrow was released, but it was already too late.

A lone horseman was charging up the mountain. Accurate archery from horseback— he had taken down the knight as if it were nothing. The name of this man, known only to Anselm and those on the battlefield, was—

"Yuwain!"

And to the comrades of the black mercenary group.

Yuwain paid no heed to them and intervened in the battle between Volf and William. With a graceful leap from the horse, he reached the 'gap' in an instant. In that fleeting moment, Yuwain deflected the swords of both combatants. He then kicked William and delivered a powerful punch to Volf's abdomen.

"Gah?!"

Volf bent over in pain and was thrown back onto the horse. In this incredibly brief span of time, the deputy commander Yuwain had decisively rescued the commander.

"Way to go, Yuwain! You're a lifesaver!"

The black mercenary group was reinvigorated. But—

"Die, you baseless mercenaries!"

Gilbert had moved. The sharp killing intent was the sword itself. The overwhelming advantage of being on horseback. The momentum was on his side.

"The momentum is there."

Yuwain had his bow drawn. Leaning his body slightly, his gaze showed no fear, and with accurate shooting, he shot down Gilbert's horse. Even as the horse collapsed, Gilbert maintained his balance and unleashed a powerful strike at Yuwain.

"But you are too young."

Yuwain had already discarded his bow and gripped his sword. The clash of swords. The shining platinum became the fangs of a lion, shattering Gilbert's sword. Gilbert's sword flew into the air. Yuwain glanced at Gilbert's neck, then mounted the horse carrying his commander.

"I'm sorry, but you all must die."

Yuwain's words were directed at his comrades. There was only one horse. There was no way to take them all. He had no choice but to leave them behind.

The black mercenaries grinned at this.

"We'll collect your pay in hell. Live long enough for the interest to pile up."

"Our interest is high, you know."

"I'll be sure to pass that along."

Yuwain turned the horse and made a show of fleeing.

"Don't let them escape!"

Gilbert's shout echoed through the battlefield. Having lost his horse and had his sword deflected, Gilbert's pride was in tatters. But he did not forget his role as a commander and ordered his troops to pursue.

"As you wish!"

The knights charged after Yuwain. With one hand holding Volf and the other on the reins, it should have been an easy kill. However, even so—

"Die!"

Even if attacked from two directions at once—

"..."

He released the reins, drew his sword, and slashed the hands holding the weapons of his opponents. He carried out these actions as if they were simple tasks. Two flashes of light, and the arms of the experienced knights were blown off. Yuwain passed through without even sparing them a glance.

"Tch, you won't get away!"

As Gilbert tried to give chase,

"We ain't letting you run, big bro!"

He was assaulted by the black mercenaries. Gilbert reflexively evaded, picking up the sword.

Yuwain's figure had already disappeared from sight. The only ones remaining were the grinning, vulgar-looking men.

"...You all, don't interfere. I'll kill you all myself."

His shattered pride. To regain that, he needed to pursue Yuwain. But he was being obstructed. That was unacceptable. He was infuriated at being hindered by these pebbles by the roadside.

"Alone? You're seriously underestimating us!"

The mercenaries rushed him all at once. The man's eyes, glaring at them, were sharp.

"It is you who have...underestimated me."

Without an ounce of mercy, he cut them all down.

༺༻

"I've lost an excellent subordinate. This is your judgment error," Yuwain said as he slammed Volf against a tree. His eyes were devoid of the warmth that often shone in them, filled only with disappointment in his leader.

"I won't make any excuses. I admit I screwed up. Do what you will."

"Well then, excuse me."

Yuwain punched Volf's face with all his might, sending him crashing to the ground.

"Hey, stop it! I know Volf messed up, but didn't you take out the enemy commander? There's no need to be so hard on him. Right?"

Nika's words had no effect on Yuwain's cold, unfeeling gaze.

"You've been too soft on Volf. Taking out the commander is a given. To be the 'Black Wolf,' you have to withdraw flawlessly. You got caught up in the fight with the White Mask, and now we've lost an irreplaceable piece. You deserve to be reprimanded. Don't you agree, Volf of the 'Black Wolf'?"

Volf swallowed his words and nodded. There was no room for defense. He had no desire to defend himself. He understood better than anyone the magnitude of the piece they had lost.

"Sorry. It's all my fault."

Yuwain raised his fist again, but Nika stepped between Volf and Yuwain, trying to stop him. Yuwain couldn't bring himself to hit Nika and reluctantly lowered his fist, his expression bitter.

"Things are really heated up, huh? Wow, this mountain is quite something. It'd be perfect for a picnic, haha!"

Rudolph le Habsbourg appeared at the mercenaries' campsite, causing everyone present to stiffen. This was an unthinkable situation— for someone from Habsbourg to set foot in this place was utterly preposterous.

"By the way, where's Anatole?"

Rainberka, one of Rudolph's attendants, asked the group. Everyone remained silent.

"Ah, did he... die?"

Rudolph's tone was playful, but his eyes were not smiling.

"He has not died, but is severely wounded," Yuwain's voice was heavy.

"Who asked you to speak? I'm talking to Volf here."

Yuwain silently stepped back. The gazes of Volf and Rudolph locked.

"That old man Anatole got his arm cut off by the White Mask and is now bedridden. He won't die, but he'll be useless for a while. As for me, I took out the enemy commander. We even pushed the front line back a bit."

Volf spat out the words, his disrespectful attitude irritating Rainberka. Uninterested, Rudolph stepped forward.

"So, the situation isn't exactly great, is it? 'Weeping Spear' and a nameless commander won't do. And if you haven't even defeated the White Mask, it's meaningless."

Rudolph's obsession was evident, but Volf did not argue. He had savored it enough— the battle against the White Mask. And he had understood. That one was also a being chosen by the heavens, just like the man before him.

"It seems relying on such a man was a mistake. In that case, I shall go and defeat the White Mask myself to prove it."

Rainberka's statement drew no reaction from Rudolph, who only dismissively replied, "I guess you're not up to the task."

This provoked a silent, murderous aura from Yuwain, Nika, and the entire Black Mercenary Corps present.

"It's not that I can't do it. I was just a bit too greedy today, that's all," Volf said as he stood up, stepping forward to stand face-to-face with the much taller Rudolph. The presence Volf exuded made the difference in their statures even more pronounced.

"I'll devour the White Mask, the battle, and everything else. So you just go and fondle some boobs or something and wait."

The fangs of the Black Wolf, honed by self-reproach, emanated a pressure that even Rainberka could not ignore. Seeing this, Rudolph smiled.

"Then I'll leave it to you for a while. I'll arrange a replacement for Anatole... however, I see fit. Well then, good luck, Black Wolf."

It's unclear why Rudolph came, but the situation has been resolved, at least for now. Though a blemish was left at the end, the advantage is still with Volf and his men. They have defeated the enemy commander, and while they are wounded, they have not been defeated. This is a significant difference.

"I'll quickly redeem our name. I have to earn enough for their share too, or it won't be worth it."

Though they were pushed back for a moment due to carelessness, they managed to significantly diminish the enemy's forces. The Arcadia army, having lost its commander, may not even have a tomorrow. They are not in a position to lose but rather still have the upper hand. This is no time to be dejected.

"We'll win again tomorrow. And this time, perfectly."

A wounded wolf is the most fearsome of all. The Black Wolf sharpens its fangs.

༺༻

"Why can't I do it?"

On the way back, Rudolph, who had come in secret, was being carried on Rainberka's back. He hated walking. They were not returning all the way to Flanders, but the distance to their base was still significant. That's why he was being carried.

"Hm? Because you can't win. Even if it's a one-on-one fight, mountain warfare is tough, you know? Honestly, Nöderlund is a bit outdated militarily. We can't win in a straight military confrontation. That's why we outsource it to experts."

Rainberka looked dissatisfied. She thought she could easily crush that level of military force.

"Don't underestimate it. Even you would die if cut by a sword or pierced by arrows. The Three Knights aren't invincible either. And you're rather precarious in various ways, you know."

Rainberka's shoulders slumped. The sudden movement caused Rudolph to almost slip off, so she gently tapped his head, and he apologized profusely.

After calming down a bit, Rudolph spoke up.

"Who do you think is in the stronger position, the White Mask or the Black Wolf?"

Rainberka immediately answered, "The Black Wolf, of course."

Rudolph grinned.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. That's why I asked them. I was a little unsure, but I figured mercenaries would be fine... Even if they're outstanding, they're still just mercenaries. They can't change the world. But the world isn't that sweet, you know."

Rudolph yawned lazily.

"The Black Wolf is strong, but the White Mask is scary. That's why Volf pushed himself too hard. It seems the 'Lion Duke' couldn't sense it."

Rainberka tilted her head. Seeing this, Rudolph chuckled weakly and fell asleep.

Once Rainberka confirmed that Rudolph had fallen asleep, she mulled over their conversation. Looking up at the sky, she frowned.

"Scary, huh? Is that man more 'fearsome' than I am?"

Rainberka's muttering was swallowed by the night.