Ch.611The Man Who Catches Daughters

“Ludwig’s scheme, such a cunning trick…!”

Poisira gritted his teeth and cursed at their main enemy as he understood—no, was convinced he understood—what Haschal was plotting.

Using his own forces’ elite troops as bait to lure Orhan near the Wall, then naturally inducing a war of attrition to break down the Unyielding Flesh.

The Haschal he remembered wasn’t intelligent enough to devise such a strategy, so this must be Ludwig’s plan. That’s what Poisira thought.

If he had noticed before engaging, he could have responded, but now that he’d discovered their scheme, he had no good options besides confronting them head-on or retreating.

‘Dangerous. How much time remains for maintaining the Unyielding Flesh…?’

No matter how much he racked his brain, Poisira couldn’t know. He wasn’t Orhan, after all.

Gauging the remaining strength of someone else—especially someone overwhelmingly stronger than himself—was beyond the capabilities of a mere Champion.

Poisira was certain of only one thing: if this was Ludwig’s trap, they hadn’t gained an opportunity to punish the worst traitor of the steppes…

Instead, despite having tens of thousands of troops at their disposal, they might end up as fools who rushed in with only a small force and fell into a trap.

…Yet he couldn’t simply withdraw either.

What if all of this was just Poisira’s imagination?

What if Ludwig’s scheme was merely an illusion, and stupid Haschal was simply rampaging like a burning buffalo, unable to even flee?

In that case, withdrawing now would be like releasing a monster they had cornered at the cost of thousands of casualties, only for it to return stronger.

That would make him remembered as the greatest fool in steppe history.

In the end, Poisira could only issue an ambiguous order to deploy one thousand-man unit for reconnaissance to observe the enemy’s movements.

If the scouts sent westward discovered Ludwig’s forces and reported back, he could be certain they needed to abandon everything and withdraw.

—-

Haschal, who was engaged in fierce combat with Orhan, noticed one of the Blue Banner’s thousand-man units heading west… and simply ignored it.

‘…That should be fine.’

If the advancing thousand-man unit had been moving as a single mass, Haschal would have had no choice but to charge and block them, even at the risk of exposing a weakness to Orhan.

With only 170 men in his detachment, it would be difficult to face a pursuit force of a thousand.

However, the thousand-man unit advancing toward the Wall was divided into groups of less than a hundred, sweeping forward across a wide area.

Understanding their intention wasn’t particularly difficult for Haschal.

They weren’t trying to pursue and annihilate the detachment, but rather conducting wide-area reconnaissance of the entire western region.

And for Haschal, that wasn’t something worth risking a direct hit from Orhan’s attack to prevent.

Even if the Blue Banner’s Champion figured out her intention and sent scouts to confirm Ludwig’s movements… nothing would change at this point.

So Haschal ignored the movement of the Blue Banner’s 6th Thousand-Man Unit and continued her bloody battle with Orhan.

For a full forty minutes more.

======[ Haschal ]======

“Tsk!”

I bit my lip as I felt the Karma flames beneath my feet gradually weakening.

It had been a full hour since I started fighting Orhan. Even by my own assessment, I couldn’t have held out any better, but I was reaching my limit.

The vast lake of Murder Karma was revealing its bottom, becoming depleted. How much longer could I last? Even fighting with minimal movement, I’d likely fall helplessly in about ten minutes.

[ …You already know this, but this moment is the final line where you can choose life. If you fight any longer, you won’t have the strength left to flee. ]

‘That’s unexpected. Saying something like that. I thought the Ka’har never turn their backs on enemies?’

I gathered myself, my body aching like an old person’s joints with every movement after being thoroughly beaten.

For Hersella, who so despised Orhan, to suggest I flee if I didn’t want to die—it meant she too saw I had no chance of winning anymore.

[ “I” don’t. But you’re not Ka’har, are you? ]

Not wrong. I wiped the blood trickling from my mouth with the back of my hand, smirking.

Fleeing. It was a tempting suggestion, but I couldn’t follow it.

Even if I tried to fly away now, Orhan wouldn’t just watch me leave. And while a strategic retreat might be different, fleeing because I couldn’t win would clearly trigger Durandal’s constraints, significantly weakening my capabilities.

Besides…

‘I already told you. I won’t run away.’

I readjusted my stance, gripping Durandal, which remained pristine and unscratched unlike my twisted and broken winter armor.

It was truly an irrational feeling, but… I didn’t want to flee.

‘My body aches all over, but my legs and arms are still intact—how can I talk about dying already?’

Let’s hold out a bit longer. Trust in Ludwig.

[ Ha, how stubborn. ]

Hersella let out a hollow laugh and delivered what wasn’t quite mockery.

‘Who knows? Orhan may not have any wounds, but he seems quite tired too. Even the invincible Unyielding Flesh must be approaching its limit.’

[ Such grand dreams. ]

Yes, it’s an excessive hope.

Instead of answering, I pulled up the corners of my mouth and glared at Orhan, who was catching his breath about ten meters away.

His blade was chipped and cracked. His clothes had been reduced to little more than rags, yet his bronze-colored flesh still boasted not a single wound.

—-

“…You seem quite exhausted, Haschal. Is this your limit?”

Orhan met my gaze, feeling my glare.

His sharp, knife-like eyes with their triple black irises exuded pressure just from looking at them. His neatly arranged hair was now disheveled and soaked with sweat.

“Limit? Me? You must be getting old-age vision problems. Your eyes have become quite blurry. Why not pluck them out and replace them with something else?”

“Disrespectful words, and pitiful bluster.”

Orhan rushed toward me with a grin that revealed his canines, shattering the air as he charged. He swung his blade, now ragged and worn down from failing to withstand Durandal’s hardness.

I took a defensive stance, supporting Durandal’s blade with my left arm.

“Clang!”

A clear metallic sound. The two blades met and sparked, and the momentum of his charge pushed me back relentlessly. I was pushed back several meters without resistance while our swords remained locked.

Rather than resisting by expending Karma flames to hold my ground, it was far better to let myself be pushed back and dissipate the impact if I wanted to fight longer.

“Look. It’s so clear that your strength is failing.”

“Ha, the same goes for you, doesn’t it?”

It was true that I chose to yield rather than resist because my strength was failing, but Orhan’s force pushing me was also considerably weaker than at the beginning.

When we first started fighting, if I had defended against his attack like this, I would have crashed to the ground like a comet… but now I was only pushed back about ten meters.

“True. As you say, my strength is nearly spent as well. You should be proud. You’re the first to push me this far.”

“Oh, is that so?”

We continued our close-quarters combat even while conversing.

My Frosting strike aimed at his eyes was deflected by his left arm, and even my knee thrust toward his groin was blocked, caught in his hand.

His vise-like grip squeezed my knee as if to crush it.

“Let go!”

Using my trapped left leg as an axis, I spun my entire body and kicked Orhan’s head with my right foot.

“Clang!”

My kick, powerful enough to shatter rock, failed to crush a human head and was blocked. Orhan tilted his head to the side and looked at me, rolling only his eyeballs.

“You stone-headed bastard…!”

“You asked me to let go? Very well, I’ll let go.”

With those words, Orhan released my knee and gripped his blade with both hands, swinging it like lightning.

A strike too powerful to defend against head-on. I expelled Karma flames from my elbow to rotate quickly, tilting Durandal’s blade to deflect his sword.

“Crack-crack-crack!”

The edge of his blade scattered fragments as it was ground down.

I bounced away through the air with Durandal pressed tightly against my shoulder. I had perfectly deflected the slash itself, but its remaining force was still enough to send my body flying.

“Haa… haa…”

I exhaled heated breaths as I spun to regain my posture. The distance between us had widened again. Instead of charging at me again, Orhan maintained the same altitude and spoke.

“Impressive. Such Karma at the age of nineteen. An unusually robust physique and perfectly honed skills. Powerful sorcery and ultra-fast mental techniques. Without the Unyielding Flesh, even I couldn’t guarantee victory.”

…Praising the enemy now? Must be the confidence of someone who’s already won.

I twisted my lips in disgust, a feeling that surpassed even my accumulated fatigue and bodily pain.

“Right. You’re so great. Is toughness all you have to brag about at fifty?”

It was a sarcastic remark, but surprisingly, Orhan acknowledged my words with a slight nod.

“The Unyielding Flesh is indeed among the more modest mental techniques… However, that modesty is what defeated you. The simpler something is, the more powerful it can be. Surely you understand that continuing this fight offers no chance of victory?”

Well, I’m not so sure about that.

I raised Durandal, pointing it at him while cracking my stiff neck from side to side.

“Blah, blah, blah. I thought you were the taciturn type, but you talk more than I expected. What, are you going to let me go if I admit defeat?”

“Of course not. Rather, the opposite.”

…The opposite?

What’s he saying, that he’ll kill me cleanly if I quietly admit defeat?

“What do you mean?”

I tilted my head in confusion at his incomprehensible statement.

With a raised corner of his mouth, Orhan rested his nearly broken blade on his shoulder and spoke in a low, solemn voice.

“Return to the steppes and become the Khagan after me, Haschal. You have the strength and the right. Among the five children who bear the name Aishan-Gioro, only you have inherited the blood of the wolf.”

“…What?”

I was so shocked I almost dropped Durandal.