Ch.148Chapter 148

Facing the king’s army while relying solely on walls and gates, Berman was truly incompe… well, not incompetent.

Dencan wasn’t a ruler generous enough to tolerate such a person either.

Besides his obsession with worshipping ancestors he’d never met, Berman was a seasoned commander who had traveled the Empire as a mercenary in his youth, gaining diverse experience.

The reason he wasn’t particularly alarmed even when Wendigo personally led an army was because sieges were inherently difficult.

Even the Emperor of the Empire, living for his own pride, would often just stamp his feet in frustration and surround a castle, waiting for surrender when an elector prince barricaded himself.

Moreover, most Manheimr nobles had no siege experience.

To conduct a siege, one needed a castle first… and just a bit north, there was only poverty-stricken land dotted with wooden palisades instead of castles.

Even when visiting the Empire for plunder, they had no reason to attack castles.

Why would anyone be foolish enough to attack a castle they couldn’t keep when raiding villages and merchants alone would yield wealth far exceeding a tribe’s annual production?

So…

“Send the swiftest to order the reserves to deploy immediately! Lord Arnold, pour the boiling oil we prepared on the wall over the gate debris and set it on fire!”

By not losing his composure when the gate collapsed, Berman had proven himself a capable knight with firm resolve.

It was a remarkably composed response considering a lifetime of wisdom and lessons had crumbled in an instant. But rational action didn’t mean his emotions weren’t boiling.

Frantically issuing orders, Berman grabbed a servant by the collar and shouted.

“Where is my armor?! How lazy and stupid must you be to fail bringing armor in this critical situation!!!”

“I-I’m sorry, master! If you could wait just a moment…”

“Useless fools! Do you think I’m asking for excuses?!”

The unfortunate servant caught in Berman’s wrath became a bloody mess from his powerful fist.

The fist of a knight who had devoted his life to killing was more than enough to kill a man on its own.

Throwing the dead servant to the floor, Berman glared at the others and roared.

“Are you all deaf? Relay my orders immediately. Block the gate by any means necessary!!!”

“Yes, sir!”

Fearing their skulls might be crushed by Berman’s fists, they pushed past each other to leave the room.

The servants who had gone to fetch armor and sword made miserable faces seeing this. How unfortunate that they couldn’t escape from the bloodthirsty Berman because of the armor…

They began dressing Berman with trembling hands. Gelman, a summoner—or magician in Imperial terms—watched and clicked his tongue.

“I told you the King of Manheimr was special even from a distance. The mysterious paths flowing through his body like blood vessels clearly indicate he’s a Djin that has existed since ancient times.”

Crunch.

As the old magician stroked his beard and spoke as if it wasn’t his concern, Berman’s teeth ground involuntarily.

If he was so knowledgeable and wise, how helpful it would have been if he’d warned that the King of Manheimr would break down the gate!

While changing into his armor, Berman expressed his frustration to Gelman.

“Lord Gelman, you seem quite relaxed. My castle gate was made of sturdy wood reinforced with quality steel, yet it collapsed with a single blow from the King of Manheimr!”

“Well, I honestly didn’t expect the King of Manheimr to exert his power directly. Djin who have lived long ages are typically arrogant and lazy, rarely using their strength for such trivial matters.”

Berman struggled to suppress the urge to ask if Gelman was describing himself. Now was the time for cooperation, not arguments.

Gelman cackled with a cunning smile as if reading Berman’s thoughts.

“This old man has teased the lord too much. But don’t worry too much. I anticipated something like this might happen and sent my disciples to the walls in advance.”

“Are they reliable?”

“Ho ho… Have you forgotten what our specialty is? Creating barriers, binding with spells, and suppressing spirits are our strengths passed down from our ancestors.”

Though Gelman was a cunning, devious, and malicious magician, his pride in his clan’s secret arts was genuine.

Legend had it that the powerful and mysterious arts founded by the first Dencan to control spirits and beasts and elevate humans above them were truly powerful and mysterious.

Especially their ability to bind and weaken naturally mystical beings was said to reach the heavens…

“Look over there!”

“How dare you interrupt an old man’s speech! Did you eat your manners along with battlefield rations? When discussing the greatness of our ancestors, what—”

“Shut up and look! All those disciples you were boasting about are dying!”

“Huh?”

When Berman shouted with a red face, Gelman blinked and looked outside.

His loyal disciples were trying to defend the gate as instructed. Their effort was so great they were throwing themselves to the wolves as food.

However, their numbers—just over ten—were insufficient to feed all the incoming wolves. The wolf riders swept in like a wave, trampling Gelman’s disciples and entering the castle.

“……”

“Incompetent old man… This must be why Lord Dencan values knights and mercenaries over summoner nonsense.”

Berman muttered just loud enough for Gelman to hear as he left the room.

As the servants hurriedly slipped out after noticing the mood, Gelman, left alone, was furious about his disciples’ deaths.

“These stupid fools… If you’re going to die, at least block the gate for my reputation’s sake! I took you in despite your pathetic talents!”

… To clarify, Gelman was angry that his incompetent disciples had embarrassed him.

He wanted to tear their corpses apart and feed them to dogs, but unfortunately, those corpses had already become wolf food.

His pride wouldn’t allow him to leave things this way.

Yes, he needed to inflict the same humiliation on the King of Manheimr…

“…Come to think of it, there’s a perfect creature. That one could ruin the king’s dignity.”

The wicked are happiest when plotting evil.

Gelman hurried toward the castle’s basement with a disgustingly gleeful grin.

* * *

Berman’s castle quickly became a feast for wolves. Not only those waiting to defend the gate but also soldiers on the walls couldn’t escape the wolves’ fangs.

“Grrrr!”

“This is insane… The wolves are climbing the stairs! Everyone, block them!!!”

“Aaaagh! My hand, grab my hand! A wolf has my leg and is pulling… Aaaaargh!!!”

Wolves were naturally better at climbing stairs than horses, more skilled at killing with their teeth and claws, and fearless in the face of spears and swords.

No wonder even the horse-loving plainsmen of the steppes abandoned old lovers for wolves!

The wolf riders, moving as one with their soul companions, slaughtered the soldiers blocking the stairs.

Witnessing this horrific scene, soldiers on the walls frantically tried to block the stairs to save themselves, but…

“Are your ancestors protecting us from those climbing ladders?! We’re busy too… Gack!”

“We can’t let those wolf riders take all the glory. Climb the walls and kill them all!”

Wolf riders weren’t the only ones attacking the walls. The castle’s confused soldiers were literally torn apart between glory-hungry warriors and wolf riders.

Boiling oil and fire arrows? The ballistas painstakingly imported from the Empire?

Everything prepared to stop Wendigo’s advance became useless the moment the wolf riders breached the defenses.

Berman found this fact unbearably shameful and unjust.

“My castle… the castle Lord Dencan bestowed upon me, lost in a moment of hesitation!!!”

“Look, there’s someone in fancy armor!”

“He’s being escorted by knights. Must be a nobleman. If we capture him and present him to His Majesty, the reward will be—”

Though the castle had fallen due to Wendigo’s unconventional tactics, Berman’s skills were not lacking.

He swung his sword fiercely at the glory-hungry warriors. His blade cut through their armor, cleaving them in half.

Five or six were instantly split in two, which would normally inspire fear, but…

“Judging by his skill, he must be high-ranking. Surround him with spears so he can’t escape and cause trouble for His Majesty!”

“Bring bows! Besides him, there’s no one remarkable, so shoot them all dead!”

The warriors calmly formed ranks and moved to pressure Berman. The truly foolish ones had already been filtered out during the nobles’ selection of elites.

Berman tried to cut through with his mighty strength, slashing spears and arrows, but the warriors adjusted their distance like hunters stalking prey, continuously firing arrows.

Berman’s elite guards resisted to the death, but one by one they fell to arrows and spear tips…

“L-Lord Berman… forgive me for failing to stay by your side until the end.”

“Lord Adel!”

Finally, as even his knight escort drew his last breath, Berman called his loyal friend’s name with an anguished expression.

Berman’s condition was far from good. He was bleeding heavily from multiple arrows and had no time to rest, leaving his stamina nearly depleted.

Yet his fighting spirit remained intact as he raised his sword with burning determination.

“I, Berman of House Lukarf, will never surrender nor beg for my life. Any fool who wishes to join me on my journey, come forth!”

“I thought southerners were all weak and pathetic…”

“A true exemplar of warriors.”

The warriors nodded as if impressed by Berman’s struggle.

How could anyone call themselves a warrior if they didn’t respect the final moments of a fearless fighter?

“……”

Of course, Wendigo, being a king rather than a warrior, did not lament Berman’s death.

Having entered the castle after receiving news of its fall through a messenger… what kind of farce was this?

After all, these wicked, petty men who had thrown the peaceful north into chaos had the audacity to speak of honor…

Barely clinging to consciousness, Berman used his sword as a cane to stand. He thanked his ancestors for bringing the King of Manheimr before him.

“Seeing you appear before me, I know the great ancestors have blessed me. King of Manheimr, if you truly know honor, draw your sword!”

“I wish you’d speak properly. I came here on my own feet, so shouldn’t you be thanking me instead?”

Berman didn’t flinch at Wendigo’s biting remark. His clouded mind prevented him from understanding Wendigo’s words clearly.

Wendigo clicked his tongue at this brazen attitude. Honestly, the situation was absurd.

How could these petty men who started a war for their own greed think they had any right to speak of honor?

Surprisingly, they did. Such “minor” issues resonated with the northern warriors when it came to honor.

“Your Majesty! Please grant this honorable warrior his final moment!”

“When I return to my homeland, I’ll tell my siblings the story of this warrior!”

‘This is truly the first man I’ve been so reluctant to kill…’

Wendigo prayed that Berman would just die from blood loss. He didn’t want to grant Berman glory by his own hand.

Did some malicious god hear Wendigo’s prayer?

CRASH!!!

Something massive burst through the inner tower and lunged toward Wendigo. It landed right in front of him, directly on top of Berman.

The impact made Berman cough blood as he painfully turned to look at what had pounced on him.

The creature had a living snake for a tail and a lion’s body, but its upper body was covered with snake scales and eagle wings. As if that wasn’t bizarre enough, the most repulsive part was its head.

Three heads—lion, eagle, and goat—seemed forcibly attached to a single neck, dripping saliva and writhing.

Recognizing this horrifying appearance, one warrior exclaimed in shock:

“Ch-Chimera! Why is this cursed monster here now?!”

“■■■■■■■…”

The Chimera made a sound close to the wailing of beasts as it savored Berman’s blood with its three tongues. The taste of blood infused with powerful strength was enough to excite the Chimera.

The Chimera let out an even louder cry of pleasure, and understanding its meaning, Berman screamed in outrage:

“Gelman, that dog-dick spellcaster has—!”

“■■!!!”

CRUNCH!

Berman’s curse remained unfinished. Crazed by the rare delicacy, the Chimera’s three heads tore off Berman’s head and both arms.

The warriors were disgusted by this terrible end. Being eaten by a beast was not considered a good death in northern customs.

“Ugh… I don’t want to die like that.”

“No matter what, becoming beast food is just… wrong.”

And so, what could have been an epic tale of Berman’s death became an ignoble end.

Grateful to the Chimera for killing Berman in his place, Wendigo concentrated the mysteries in his arms. He intended to gift the Chimera a painless death out of gratitude.

But perhaps the Chimera also wanted to express its thanks for the nutritious meal?

“■■■■■■■!!!!!”

After devouring Berman, the Chimera let out a monstrous roar and hurled itself toward Wendigo.