Chapter 25
It felt as if the shadow of a massive beast had taken shape and was stirring up the ground.
The densely packed black fur absorbed all light.
From a distance, it looked like an ordinary wolf, but up close, its sheer size was overwhelming.
Standing on all fours, it was taller than a grown man, and its body length rivaled that of a carriage.
The only part of their bodies that reflected light was their glowing red eyes.
“Hellwolves! Form ranks!”
The leader of the supply convoy shouted.
The response was split.
Some soldiers panicked and scattered in fear, while others, more experienced, quickly moved into position.
The hellwolves circled around the wagons as if dancing.
There were only about six of them, but their growling and the heavy thud of their footsteps were enough to instill fear.
“P-please, spare me!”
The workers brought in for unloading screamed or begged for their lives.
“D-don’t step outside the carriage!”
Hans said with a trembling voice.
“You should be getting inside the carriage too. What do you think you can do like that?”
“I-I must protect the young master…”
At that moment.
A shadow darted past.
A soldier at the front line was dragged away by a hellwolf after being bitten.
“Uwaah! Help me!”
Crunch.
Crunch.
The dragged soldier did not die a peaceful death.
Several hellwolves pounced on him, tearing his arms and legs apart.
It was no different from a public execution right before their eyes.
Blood and flesh splattered the muzzles of the hellwolves.
‘Just as I read—these creatures are intelligent.’
Isaac resisted the creeping drowsiness and recalled what he had read in books.
There was nothing he could do in this situation.
He couldn’t recklessly swing a sword at such fearsome beasts.
He couldn’t use magic, and even if he could, using it in a place teeming with magical beasts would be suicidal.
Magical beasts crave mana.
Using magic and increasing the density of mana would be like putting a target on his back.
“It’s a battle of nerves! Don’t get drawn in! Hold your formation!”
Carlson rode on horseback and shouted loudly.
“Everyone, hold the formation! Maintain ranks!”
The leader screamed at the top of his lungs.
“They’re coming!”
“They’re coming!”
“Raise your spears!”
This time, it wasn’t just one—six hellwolves charged all at once.
‘They go for the weakest or the most fearful first. If that’s the case…’
Before Isaac could finish his thought, the hellwolf charging at Carlson suddenly veered toward the carriage.
To be precise, it wasn’t targeting the carriage.
“Hans, Hans!”
“Y-y-young master, m-my leg…”
In a flash.
Hans, staring at the hellwolf charging toward him, turned his head to Isaac.
A face that had accepted death and let go of everything.
Both Isaac and Schiller moved instinctively.
They opened the carriage door and tried to pull Hans inside.
But the hellwolf was far faster.
It was already right in front of them.
Boom—
Neigh!
With a heavy thud, the horse let out a shrill cry.
The carriage tipped over sideways.
Isaac and Schiller were thrown around inside.
“Hans!”
Isaac shouted.
His heart felt like it had dropped.
When had he vowed never to make the same mistake again?
When did he watch Randolph die?
Was he foolishly repeating the same mistake again?
“Ugh, young master…”
There was one more person in the overturned carriage besides Isaac and Schiller.
It was Hans.
“I’m… I’m here.”
“Ha.”
Isaac let out a breath of relief.
Hans was bleeding from his head, but it didn’t seem like he had been bitten by the black wolf.
“Thanks to you and Sir Schiller, I…”
Before Hans could finish his sentence, his head snapped to the side.
Isaac had punched him square in the face.
“Ha-ha, your punch is stronger than I expected.”
“…”
“I’m—”
“Sorry.”
Hans laughed awkwardly, but his expression quickly darkened.
He hadn’t been helpful at all—just a burden.
With an angry face, Isaac climbed out of the carriage.
“Well, at least you’re alive.”
Schiller patted Hans on the shoulder.
His usually tidy hair was now a mess.
“Are you alright?”
Carlson shook the blood from his sword and asked Isaac.
Just as the black wolf was about to bite into Hans’s neck, Carlson had leapt off his horse and driven his longsword into the creature’s nape.
The hellwolf, pierced in a vital spot, toppled the carriage as it died.
“Thanks to you.”
Isaac replied briefly.
“Looks like it’s over.”
Three hellwolves were fleeing from the supply convoy.
Near the convoy lay the corpses of soldiers and two dead hellwolves, impaled by spears like porcupines.
“That way…”
Isaac looked toward the military camp.
“Seems like some crazy guy is cleaning up over there.”
Just as Carlson said.
At the entrance to the camp where barricades had been set up, a giant man was swinging an axe in each hand.
While the soldiers around him stabbed their spears from behind the barricades, the giant faced the hellwolves head-on without any cover.
“But, that guy…”
“Yes.”
“He’s naked.”
“He is.”
“He’s smiling.”
“He’s grinning from ear to ear.”
“He’s insane.”
“He’s a madman.”
The hill where the supply convoy stood wasn’t far from the camp.
It was close enough to make out what was happening with the naked eye.
But it wasn’t close enough for their voices to be heard by shouting.
And yet—
Kwahaha!
Mad laughter echoed faintly across the wilderness.
“When did he start doing that?”
“I don’t know. By the time things were settling here, he was already like that. Thanks to him, the tension’s gone.”
“Bessemer, huh.”
Schiller inserted himself into the conversation between Isaac and Carlson.
“Do you know him?”
“He’s from the battle tribes. In fact, he’s practically the commander of this camp. Most of the soldiers in Binfelt are from those tribes.”
Schiller replied.
“The battle tribes, huh.”
“They’re warlike, better at looting than self-sustaining.
It’s all in the past now, with most of the tribes dissolved.”
“He still seems to enjoy fighting.”
“Anyone who doesn’t wouldn’t survive here.”
Of the nearly fifty soldiers in the supply convoy, eight were killed and twelve injured.
Unfortunately, the vanguard commander died, and the remaining convoy was led to the camp by Schiller.
Even then, Bessemer was walking outside the palisade, stark naked and drenched in beast blood.
His bald head was covered in dark brown blood, and his thick beard around his jaw was matted and filthy with gore.
“Bessemer!”
“Oh, look who it is—big brother himself.”
“Not big brother, but the steward.”
“Whatever. Just give me a moment.”
Bessemer was dismantling a hellwolf with a dagger.
The thick black hide tore like parchment.
“Latu Balaka Sanctum. Latu Balaka Sanctum.”
Even as his hands moved non-stop, Bessemer mumbled incomprehensible tribal words.
“These hides are heavy, so they don’t fetch a high price, but they’re quite warm when worn.”
“Bessemer. Did you get the letter?”
“Wait a bit. This part is important.”
With blood-soaked hands, Bessemer raised a palm to stop Schiller.
In this domain, only the count could treat the steward that way, but Schiller sighed, clearly used to it.
“Damn, look at this guy—so sturdy and fresh.”
Bessemer slit open the skinned hellwolf’s belly and rummaged inside, pulling out bright red organs.
It hadn’t been long since the beast died, and steam was still rising.
“This is wolf liver. Eat this, and you gain the strength and courage of wolves. Not just that—it’s great for a man, if you know what I mean.”
“Bessemer.”
“Would little brother like some too? Someone like big brother still probably values his nighttime vigor.”
“Bessemer.”
Ignoring Schiller, Bessemer shoved his face into the liver and took a bite.
Squelch.
Blood dripped down Bessemer’s face.
“Mmm, good stuff. Come on, everyone, have some. It’s warm and just right.”
He offered the rest to the soldiers.
“Bessemer, the young master has arrived.”
“Young master? Ah, you mean big brother’s kid.”
“Not big brother—His Excellency.”
“Whatever. As long as I know the big brother’s brat is the head of this land, that’s all that matters, right?”
Bessemer said, still chewing on wolf liver.
“You are… sigh. Never mind.”
Schiller shook his throbbing head.
“So you’re Bessemer.”
“Hm?”
Bessemer, scratching his drying scalp, looked toward the voice.
“Who’s the kid?”
He looked at Isaac and asked Schiller.
“Did you even listen to me? He’s the young master.”
“Huh? The crybaby kid who looked like he’d burst into tears a while back is that one?”
“Mind your manners.”
“Oh come on, what’s the harm in teasing big brother’s brat?”
Bessemer walked past the scowling Schiller and approached Isaac.
“Wow, time sure flies. When did you get this big? Your eyes look manlier, you’ve grown taller, even your hair color’s different. Back when you were tiny, you looked just like little brother, but now you resemble your mother.”
He circled Isaac as he spoke.
Something dangled between his legs with every step.
Isaac found it annoying.
“Hey.”
Isaac pointed between Bessemer’s legs.
“Oh, this? Surprised? This magnificent thing is a blessing passed down from my ancestors. My treasure.”
Bessemer put his hands on his waist and proudly flaunted it.
“That’s not what I meant—cover it up.”
“Ah, right. Big brother’s folks always were a bit stiff.”
Grinning, Bessemer wrapped himself in the freshly skinned wolf pelt.
“So, where’s my brother?”
“Brother?”
“Pickle, I mean.”
“Pickle?”
Isaac tilted his head.
“You mean Pyke?”
Schiller, who somehow understood, clarified.
“Ah yes, that’s it. He used to get mad when I called him Pickle.”
“Did you really not read the letter?”
“Letter, letter… was there one?”
Bessemer asked the soldiers nearby.
“Anyone see it?”
“Uh… sir, you were drunk and used it as kindling. Said it was cold that morning.”
One soldier cautiously replied.
“You son of a—why didn’t you stop me?!”
“We tried. Three of us jumped you. We were all sick the next day.”
“Ah… I see. That’s what happened.”
Bessemer scratched his cheek awkwardly.
“Sigh. Fine. I didn’t expect much anyway. Just listen up from now on.”
Schiller sighed again and explained everything.
How Pyke had tried to kill Isaac through human trafficking and was executed.
How Isaac brought honor to the family and was granted Binfelt.
“Hah. He died like a true brother, I suppose.”
Bessemer didn’t seem too remorseful about Pyke’s death.
He just clicked his tongue a few times and gave a dry laugh.
“So now, the master of this land is Young Master Isaac.”
“Well, do what you want. Putting a name in ink on parchment is up to little brother. But truly becoming the lord of Binfelt—that’s another matter. Even my brother couldn’t do that.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be back at the mansion soon.”
Schiller said in a lowered voice.
“Just cooperate while the young master is here.”
“Wait a second—Isaac?”
“…Yes.”
“Sorry, I’m confused. Didn’t big brother have two kids? I heard one of them got cursed and crippled. Which one is it?”
“Bessemer.”
“Answer me.”
Bessemer’s face hardened.
“Crippled or not?”
“Bessemer, that’s—”
“If you must know, then yes, the crippled one is me.”
Isaac answered in Schiller’s place.
“Ha, big brother must’ve lost his mind.”
Bessemer was laughing, but his eyes were full of pure contempt.
Isaac only reached up to Bessemer’s waist, but he calmly met his gaze.
“Kid, I’m only saying this because I knew your dad. While I’m being nice—go back home. This is a battlefield where no one has time to worry about cursed cripples.”
As Bessemer growled, the surrounding soldiers’ mood turned tense.
They looked ready to draw weapons at any moment.
But Isaac just gave a slight smile.
“If you chase away that cursed cripple, everyone in this camp will be wiped out soon.”
“Sir, what’s this brat saying? He’s getting cocky just because he thinks big brother’s backing him—”
“It’s not my father who will wipe you out. It’s the hellwolves.”
For a moment, the entire atmosphere froze at Isaac’s words.
