Tower of Karma
Vol. 1 - Ch. 28 - The Battle of Flanders (9): The Common Soldier

It was Nika who first noticed the change in the way they were being looked at, as he lay recovering from his wounds at the Nederkus headquarters.

"...Hey, doesn't it feel like their looks towards us haven't quite returned to normal?"

Nika, who had been injured while subduing the skilled fighters Anselm and Gregor, noticed a shift in the gaze of the Black Mercenary Battalion members under his command. While he didn't pay much heed to Volf or Yuwain, Nika couldn't shake his uneasy feeling.

"It's the same look they had when we first met. Not quite hatred, but a sense of rejection. Up until recently, they were treating us like saviors."

The change was not overtly obvious, but the atmosphere had certainly shifted. The initial air of anticipation had faded, replaced by a suspicious gaze.

"Maybe I should go tell Volf about this. I'm not so injured that I can't walk."

Nika slowly rose to his feet.

"Damn that wooden puppet and that lunatic. I'll make sure to kill them both someday."

Stepping out of the tent, he made his way to where Volf was.

༺༻

When Nika reached Volf, he realized his uneasy premonition had been correct.

"Are you fucking crazy?! We were just about to win, and you're spouting nonsense!"

Volf was yelling at the legion commander who had taken over the mountain battles in Anatole's absence. Even with Anatole's revival, the legion commander remained in command.

"Then when will we win?! We've waited long enough. We've had our chances. But we still haven't won! How can we entrust the command to a mercenary who can't deliver results?"

Veins were popping out on Volf's forehead. As he raised his fist to strike, Yuwain and Anatole held him back.

The legion commander, seeing this, said,

"You brutes. You're nothing but lowly rabble after all. I don't know how you managed to stage a comeback, but when I was in command, I would have handled things much better. I'm confident I can do a better job."

His stance became more aggressive. Volf was no longer just angry, but simply dumbfounded. In terms of individual fighting prowess, there was no comparison. And tactically, as fellow Nederkus soldiers, the difference between Anatole and this man was negligible. Objectively, this was a ridiculous argument. But the man intoxicated by his position would not listen to reason.

"I will be taking over the command. I'm tired of your peculiar strategies."

"Wait. Using these men is Lord Rudolph's wish. Can you disregard that so easily?"

Anatole tried to reason with him, but the legion commander replied,

"I was only told to take your place. I was not ordered to continue favoring them. I've been following your lead in dealing with these fellows, but they've achieved little in the way of results, and one of the vice-commanders was gravely injured by the enemy's tactics. There is nothing good to be said about them."

Hearing this, Nika made a frustrated face. He felt he had been letting the team down.

Volf's face became as cold as the ebbing tide.

"Alright. We'll return the command to you. Fight however you want. We'll do as we please too."

Volf said tersely, turning his back and preparing to leave.

"Wait! I won't allow you to do as you please. You are now all members of our Nederkus Army. You will obey my-"

The legion commander's words were cut short as he was overcome by the immense killing intent radiating from the retreating figure.

"Let's go, Yuwain, Nika."

Volf's commanding presence was undeniable. He strode away, with Yuwain following. Nika, limping, tried his best to keep up, but in his haste, he stumbled over a step and began to fall.

"Careful, you are still gravely wounded. Do not overexert yourself," Anatole said, skillfully using his spear to catch Nika before he fell.

"S-Sorry about that," Nika apologized. Anatole smiled and nodded, then, without a glance at the arrogant subordinate, carried Nika away from the scene.

༺༻

"He is a poor general. I apologize."

Anatole bowed his head to the Wolves. What surprised Yuwain and

Nika was that Volf seemed to be lost in thought, gazing in the opposite direction.

Anatole had already acknowledged the Wolves' abilities. Not only their individual might, but the collective strength they displayed was a power that could not be seen in Nederkus. Having recognized their strength, Anatole would have been prepared to share their fate had he been the commander. That was his intention as well.

"But why did it suddenly come to this? We were about to win, after all."

Yuwain furrowed his brow. This was a winning situation, so Yuwain found the current turn of events bewildering.

"Well, it's a bit tricky, you know. I don't get it, but were we really about to win?"

Nika's carefree question made Yuwain wryly smile. His martial prowess was considerable, but his strategic vision as a general was still lacking, and he had no intention of improving in that area. He had essentially handed everything over to the Wolves.

That was why―

"...I see. So that's how it is!"

This became the Wolves' golden words.

The three were startled by Volf's sudden outburst. Heedless of their surprise, Volf was excited.

"You fool! This was the plan from the start! Common folk can't understand the subtleties of the battlefield. What they can understand is the dwindling of their own comrades and the stagnation of the battlefield."

Volf's mind was rapidly spinning. The enemy's true aim was invisible. Volf had mistakenly thought that strategy was all about fighting, using terrain, deploying forces in a biased manner, and cleverly defeating the enemy army.

Yuwain's wry smile became distorted. He had finally realized it. The man called the 'Lion Marquis' who had raced through countless battlefields had failed to notice a small hole. Because he was the 'Black Wolf' and the 'Lion Marquis', the hole had grown larger in the midst of the long battle.

"We are mercenaries. Mercenaries are required to deliver results. We thought we were delivering results. But―"

"They didn't know about those results. In fact, they may have thought we were struggling."

Volf was struggling to suppress the urge to laugh from the bottom of his heart.

Volf had surpassed William in every way. In strength, speed, and even tactics, Volf was slightly ahead. That's why William had given up on winning the battle. He had carefully nurtured the seeds of victory outside the battle, within the enemy army.

"The fact that we're mercenaries is also a major factor in this. A foreigner commanding the army with a big attitude. No one likes that. Moreover, he infiltrated us into the squads of a hundred or ten, forcing us to move. In a tight spot, that might have been fine, but in this relatively mild battlefield, it's only natural that resentment would build up."

The moment they joined this prolonged battle, the Wolves' defeat was sealed. Volf had overlooked two factors: that they were mercenaries, and that the soldiers were common folk. Those two factors were fatal.

"Nika and Anatole were just minor additions. They might have had a slight effect, but fundamentally, we were already defeated. I, the ultimate genius that I am ―"

Volf had finally caught up to the view that William had been seeing. The breadth of his vision made Volf unable to suppress his laughter. A man who was only a squad leader of ten or a hundred, how far could he have been looking? At this young age, how could he manipulate people so skillfully?

"I have no choice but to admit it. There were two geniuses. What's frustrating is that he's... also just a common folk."

Volf laughed as he scratched his head. If he had known, he could have taken countless countermeasures. It was all his own responsibility. The narrow-mindedness he had unleashed. Even if he tried to make a comeback, now that the ladder had been pulled out from under him, he would probably never regain the starring role on this battlefield.

"...But I'll do the bare minimum of the job, at least."

Volf laughed, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth in his frustration.

༺༻

The next day, it became clear that the movements of the Nederkus army had changed. The brisk movements seen the day before were gone, replaced by ponderous military maneuvers. It did not matter which was better or worse. What was important was the change itself. The fact that Volf had been eliminated was -

"I've been waiting. I've been waiting for this!"

The moment he had been anticipating. The most agonizing and painful time for William Lyvius had been rewarded. He was not absolutely certain, but he had no choice but to gamble on this. The only thing he had relied on was human weakness. The ones he had taken advantage of were anyone other than Volf.

"Good, good, good!"

It was a rare display of joy from William. But this time, it was understandable. The opponent was superior to him in every way. He had done everything he could and had been gradually worn down. Normally, the defending side would have an absolute advantage, but even so, they had been slowly chipped away. As a tactician and a general, that meant defeat.

"I'll admit my own weakness. But the victor will be me!"

William declared loudly. The final strategy of exploiting the hearts of others. Now everything was in place.

On that day, the equilibrium that had existed until the previous day collapsed dramatically in favor of the Nederkus army. The Arcadian army suffered a "crushing defeat".

༺༻

"What the hell's going on suddenly? This is -"

Nika's voice echoed in the tent of the Black Mercenary Corps. Volf stopped sharpening his sword with a grin.

"So it seems like we were the ones keeping things stagnant, huh? That's right. That was their aim. A perfect move by the perfectionist White Mask Lord."

Yuwain and the others stopped drinking their alcohol.

"There's no way a Nederkus person would think of putting us in charge now. If there was, they'd be an overwhelming minority. Once it comes to this, we'd have to get into another good tight spot to get the command back. And the White Mask won't be dumb enough to do that. When he acts, it's in an instant. He'll counter-strike those foolish attackers in a flash, and the main camp will fall in no time."

They had intentionally allowed defeat in order to distance Volf and his men from the core. That's how much they feared Volf's command.

"Now the battlefield is much harsher. The formation itself isn't that badly broken, though. It looks like we're pushing, but the wedge is firmly in place. The offensive posture is there."

The entire battlefield appears to be overwhelmingly in Nederkus' favor. In fact, the corps commander probably thinks so too. And that is a deliberately created illusion. The situation is not as bad as it looks.

"They'll probably come for the corps commander's head. The only thing we can do is either sit and accept defeat unharmed, or attack the enemy with the resolve to go down with them, taking many losses."

Nika silently tore off his own bandages. His wounds were still unhealed. But to retreat in defeat like this was unacceptable, a silent protest.

Yuwain and the others spilled their alcohol on the ground and began to maintain their weapons and armor.

'Heh, what a bunch of idiots. That's why you guys are the best.'

Volf himself could not accept simply sitting and watching the defeat. He was confident that he was superior, that he had better pieces. Therefore, defeat was unthinkable.

"Alright, tomorrow we'll take the White Mask's head and welcome the busty lady into our ranks!"

"YEAAAAAAAAH!"

The morale of the Black Mercenary Corps suddenly soared. Shouts of "Boobs!" echoed through the camp.

"Alright, die today."

Nika threw a knife with all his might and charged forward in the same motion. Volf evaded the knife but couldn't dodge the charge, and was entangled. From that position, with a movement that showed no sign of his injuries, Nika strangled him and waited for an apology with a giggle.

"Ugh, you're crushing me. By the way, you really don't have much chest, do you?"

Those were Volf's last words for the day.

"...You got a problem with that?"

There was no one foolish enough to raise further complaints after seeing their pitiful commander foaming at the mouth, trying to get excited about breasts again. Nika may have given up the path of selling women, but her heart remained that of a maiden. She harbored a flat horizon in her chest, and pointing that out would transform her into a fury. It was an inevitable tragedy for those lacking.

"Military council at dawn tomorrow. Dismissed."

The brevity of the words made them even more ominous. Everyone quietly returned to their own sleeping spots.

In the now deserted area, Nika muttered to herself -

"...I'm still growing. Still."

Nika of the Black Mercenary Corps, at the young age of twenty-one, was still a maiden who believed (wanted to believe) in her own growth.

༺༻

After finishing the final war council, William stood alone under the night sky. Everything would end tomorrow. All of this long battle would be decided tomorrow. Of course, the Black Wolf would also make a move. Crushing and deflecting all of that, and cornering the enemy - that would be their victory.

Tomorrow would be the general offensive. He had already spoken to the army on the plains. Taking the mountains was a given. If they could effectively support the forces on the plains and take Flanders -

"Maybe, just maybe..."

The position of the centurion. He had thought it was still a little further away, but if they could grasp the victory in this battle, it would no longer be out of reach.

"But... that man was so strong at such a young age."

In terms of the talent bestowed by heaven, there was no comparison between William and Volf. William had never thought of himself as a genius, nor did he consider himself even a prodigy. An ordinary person who had used every technique, sometimes bearing the burden, had risen this far. It was not that the opponent was not making an effort, but they had not made the same kind of rational and thorough effort as William. And yet, they were on par, and the opponent was even slightly superior - he could not help but feel the difference in talent.

"But this 'genius' thing is something to think about. You overlooked it, you mountain dog."

William was an ordinary person. And in Laconia, he was surrounded by rotten ordinary people. That experience enabled him to understand the feelings of ordinary people and manipulate them skillfully. It is said that the ratio of emotion to reason in people is seven to three. No matter how rational one may be, if one does not control seven-tenths, one will collapse. That is what it means to be human. Especially for ordinary people, whose control of reason is not sufficient, is why they are ordinary people.

"There is no more proud creature than the ordinary person. They are always looking for a weaker position than themselves, and making that their life's purpose. Mercenaries are the perfect target for the regular army to look down on and despise. They look down on them and bask in a sense of superiority. And that is how they satisfy their paltry pride."

The ability to abandon one's pride is a kind of talent. Those who can completely abandon it are a kind of genius. Everyone has pride. Somewhere they think they are a different being. But reality thrusts upon them that they are ordinary. So they seek out those below them. Those they can feel superior to.

"Your existence has stimulated the ordinary people too much. If it were only temporary, that would be fine. In a crisis situation, the story is different. But in normal times, you are still an inferior existence. You must be the inferior one. That is the existence of the mercenary, and that is the outsider."

There is no one who would be happy to see outsiders treated better than themselves. As long as the outsiders are overwhelmingly superior, they have no choice but to accept it. The clear results inform them of the difference between us and them, whether they like it or not. But when that difference disappears, at least in the perception of the ordinary people -

"A sudden outpouring of discontent and dissatisfaction will explode. They cannot tolerate the arrogance of outsiders who are not even the regular army of a foreign country. And this atmosphere is easily contagious. It tickles the emotions of ordinary people and makes them lose their reason. No matter how rational it may be, it is meaningless if no one is willing to listen."

William had learned much from outside the battlefield as well. From the time he was a slave, he had thought about how to keep away from the whip, and during his time working in a bookstore, he had thought about what words to choose to sell books pleasantly to customers. Even the business he was in now was the same. Most people are ordinary. That is why it is more effective to appeal to emotions rather than reason. Recognizing this or not - that was what determined the outcome this time.

"You looked down on ordinary people. You underestimated the shallowness and foolishness of ordinary people. Ordinary people do not think. Ordinary people do not learn. That's why they remain ordinary people even as they age. It must be hard to understand, you genius mountain dog."

William had surpassed many efforts and burdens and emerged from the outside of the ordinary. His perspective was different from those who had been outside from the beginning. William recognized that this was his own weapon.

"Well, I wonder how tomorrow will turn out?"

Volf will definitely make a move. Whether to receive it or dodge it nimbly. He had already communicated the plan, but William also had a little bit of a gamble. To ensure a complete victory, he had taken just a little risk. William was confident of success, but this was a part that was beyond his control, yet even that, he could now enjoy.

"When he knows everything, I can't wait to see what kind of face that mountain dog will make..."

William lay down, wearing a mask. The pleasant night breeze tickled him. He was going to have a good nightmare tonight, William thought, as he savored the scent and scenery of the night.

Tomorrow would be the big deciding battle.