Chapter 21 : Tradition of Blood Alliance (4)

Through the torn gaps in her military uniform, the scars on her hardened muscles were visible, telling the story of horrific battles no ordinary person could imagine.

Her flowing white hair, down to her waist, was rough and untamed, like a beast’s mane, and one of her golden eyes was covered by an eyepatch, suggesting it wasn’t fully functional.

She bore a remarkable resemblance to Jeanne herself, yet the aura she exuded was beyond Jeanne’s reach. Her presence was as piercing as a crossbow bolt, sharp enough to pierce skin.

It wasn’t difficult for Jeanne to realize that this was Wolfgang Leonhardt, the Empire’s war hero. However, that wasn’t what shocked the saint Jeanne.

Every person harbors desires.

No matter how virtuous, this truth cannot be avoided. Yet, if one were to ask if desire itself is evil, Jeanne would confidently say no. Desire is the driving force of life.

It’s also the path toward a better tomorrow. Without desire, there’s no progress; without progress, one is destined to fall behind. Thus, Jeanne didn’t deny desire itself.

She’d observed countless people and read countless desires. But astonishingly, she felt no desire from the being standing before her.

‘A living creature with no desires? How is that even possible?’

No desires were emanating from her. Instead, Jeanne saw only a deep void. It was a mysterious experience for Jeanne, one that quickly turned into fear.

But Jeanne’s cool reasoning managed to stave off the waves of fear. Through her experiences, she knew that a living being without desires couldn’t exist.

And to resolve this paradox, Jeanne formulated a hypothesis. Was it possible that Wolfgang could completely conceal her desires? Of course, that couldn’t be ruled out.

‘Perhaps she’s able to hide her desires thoroughly. Either way, it’s far from ideal.’

Desires are a person’s drive for a better future but can also be their weakness. If you know what someone desires, predicting their actions becomes easy.

But if she could hide her desires, it would mean she has no weaknesses. And even if Jeanne could perceive her desires, they’d be difficult to read, making it harder to respond.

And Jeanne didn’t want to imagine the former scenario. For someone accustomed to reading and manipulating desires, such a scenario was an almost transcendent fear.

And naturally, Wolfgang, being human, did have desires.

The reason Jeanne couldn’t read Wolfgang’s desire was simple.

‘Ugh, damn it. Did I really just slap him?’

Wolfgang was in an intense state of disillusionment. In plain terms, she was experiencing a severe moment of self-awareness.

Of course, there’s no rule against a man slapping someone. Violence is violence, no matter the form. But the biggest issue was how “girlish” that moment had felt.

Wolfgang was a soldier of the Empire, a seasoned veteran who’d rolled through ten grueling years of the Winter War. She had witnessed every horror war could throw at her.

In the midst of such intense combat, torn clothing was an everyday occurrence. Yet here she was, reacting to it with a slap. Was this normal?

‘Should I seriously consider turning back into a man?’

In truth, she had attempted it before. She’d felt uncomfortable in her female body. However, for reasons she couldn’t understand, all her attempts had failed.

And the process had cost her a fortune. Now that she’d grown somewhat used to it, she’d let go of the idea. But situations like this made her reconsider.

Just as she was grappling with her identity crisis, familiar faces approached her. Among them, the gray-haired girl Natya dashed toward her with a smile.

“I knew you’d win, Sister!”

“Captain, amazing. Strong.”

“I didn’t expect you to take down the Warchief in a single strike.”

“…Oh, right.

I went through all that trouble because of these guys.

Wolfgang smiled as she raised her fist.

In the end, Wolfgang didn’t actually hit her subordinates. She wasn’t a brute who casually beat her subordinates. She just gave them a firm pat, filled with affection.

Besides, the Empire was clearly at fault here. As a representative envoy, she couldn’t believe they’d used undead. Honestly, she wouldn’t have been able to complain if they’d been expelled.

Wolfgang, having lived in modern society and encountered undead in various media, didn’t have much of an aversion. But the people in this world saw things differently.

This was a world where gods and demons existed. Even in the modern world, animated corpses would be feared, and in this world, the fear was even greater.

Especially for the Blood Pact, which adhered to a shamanistic tribal system. Here, undead beings that rejected the cycle of life and death were inevitably despised.

“I don’t think we should let this incident pass.”

In the uneasy silence, it was Jeanne who first spoke. When one door closes, another opens, as the saying goes.

Naturally, Jeanne, a saint of the kingdom opposing the Empire, wouldn’t let this pass. Regardless of the circumstances, the Empire’s use of undead couldn’t be denied.

Though unwelcome, two groups of guests had come to the Blood Pact. Even they couldn’t ignore them, and thus, negotiations began.

As negotiations proceeded, Jeanne read the orcs’ desires. Anxiety over the Warchief’s defeat, restlessness, and rejection of the undead. Yet none dared speak up.

The Warchief was both the pride and the protector of the Blood Pact. But with the Warchief defeated by Wolfgang in a single strike, their pride and defense had been shattered.

But orcs are still orcs. Their pride, their fighting spirit, and their grievances hadn’t disappeared. Jeanne seized upon these feelings and used them to her advantage.

The results were successful.

Was it anxiety over the Warchief’s defeat? Or perhaps wariness of a powerful new foe? Or maybe a desire to salvage their broken pride?

Regardless, the reason didn’t matter. Jeanne had planted the first spark, and as intended, it began to burn, fueled by the orcs’ emotions.

“It seems the saint is right this time.”

“To use foul sorcery to control the dead, tsk tsk.”

“We can’t be certain until the Warchief awakens, but… don’t expect us to catch that wretched beast.”

‘What is this? They’re biting from the start?’

Wolfgang had anticipated some level of hostility as part of politics, but she hadn’t expected such intense reactions.

But the girl beside her, Natya, had already anticipated this. The Empire, having faced the brutal Winter War, had been forced to use every available means, including undead.

In any place, necromancers and the undead were bound to be rejected. But there was a way to resolve it, and Natya whispered the solution to Wolfgang.

“Captain, responsibility is important everywhere, isn’t it?”

“True, but why bring it up now?”

“Just tell them that you’ll punish me, the one responsible for this mess.”

“What?”

“It’s okay. I can come back to life as many times as I need to.”

Natya smiled and spoke these frightening words casually. But it was an undeniable truth.

Other nations might be different, but the orcs were tribal.

Underdeveloped politics meant that brutal customs still prevailed. A careless word could get one dragged out and stoned to death.

If they spilled blood, most orcs would be satisfied. At the very least, it would break the one-sided atmosphere of hostility.

That was the judgment of Natasha Hellflame, the sixth in command of the Vendetta Corps.

But was that the only solution? Must they spill blood to move forward? Wolfgang didn’t think so. She took out a cigarette and placed it in her mouth.

“Eight years ago, I believe? That’s when my soldiers and I were isolated in a fortress.”

“What are you talking about all of a sudden?”

“That day, a fierce snowstorm shrouded them, transforming into an army of millions that completely surrounded the fortress.”

The orcs expressed doubt at Wolfgang’s seemingly unrelated story, but she continued without paying them any mind, calmly recounting her experience.

“Though we’d run out of supplies within two weeks, the snowstorm surrounding the fortress showed no signs of stopping.”

In truth, the Winter War had been a disadvantageous one from the start. The divisions between the Emperor’s faction and the nobility meant that the front-line soldiers bore the brunt of the conflict.

“Unable to endure the harsh environment and hunger, they began to starve to death one by one. Do you know what they left behind?”

“Did they leave final words?”

“They asked me to eat them.”

Cannibalism. The weight of that word was not lost on anyone present. The orcs who had been voicing their discontent were now silent, focused entirely on her words.

They’d been complacent.

They’d been arrogant.

They’d thought their strength could conquer anything.

But the Wendigo, more cunning and malevolent than they could have imagined, had intentionally lured them deep into the fortress, surrounding it.

Day or night, the attacks didn’t stop.

And the soldiers on watch were captured by the Wendigo one by one. Wolfgang vividly recalled the helplessness and defeat she’d felt.

“Do you know why they left those words? Because the Wendigo’s main food source is humans.”

Rather than being devoured by a despised Wendigo, they chose to be sustenance for their comrades. They became the food for their surviving friends.

It was bloody, tough, and revolting, but…

Wolfgang forced herself to chew and swallow.

With that strength, they managed to break through the siege.

Some would never understand. Some would condemn them for cannibalism. But there was a reason they’d had to.

“Do you know why we did it

? Because to lose meant to lose everything.”

The cigarette in Wolfgang’s hand had already burned down to the butt. Clenching the burnt-out cigarette, she looked at them.

Her message was clear. The Winter War had been brutal enough to defy reason, and undead were no exception.

Because everyone agreed on one thing.

Even in death, they would fight for their families.

Wolfgang summarized their resolve in a single sentence.

“Do not belittle our determination to win in that horrid and unforgiving war.”