Chapter 139 - Clash (3)

Sigmund, who had been struggling for some time to bring the chaos under control, felt a black shadow sweep swiftly past his side.

Blond hair and blue eyes.

That striking impression was enough to bring to mind a name he had heard well, even without anyone beside him explaining it.

"Th-That..."

Vlad of Soara.

That northern brat who had dared steal my son's sword.

"What kind of crazy bastard is that!"

And the one now doing something insane.

No matter how much of a mess the formation was, this was still the middle of enemy lines, yet that damned brat was merely racing through, slipping into the gaps with uncanny skill.

If he had not been an enemy, Sigmund might have wanted to watch those acrobatic movements in a daze, but he could not, because every time that bastard moved, the formation he had worked so hard to stitch back together was being torn apart.

"Hah..."

Sigmund was more shocked by Vlad's current behavior than by the Bayezid cavalry that had just charged in.

That attack, at least, had been something he could have anticipated, but this mad act was the first bizarre thing of its kind he had ever seen in his life.

-What the hell is that... He just popped out from behind us!

-Did the gate open? Is this really all right?

The Bayezid knight had appeared like lightning, as if to say he could tear through the likes of them as much as he pleased, and then vanished.

Though he had not intended it, Vlad's bizarre act was like throwing a stone into the unease Sigmund had worked so hard to calm.

Like ripples spreading quietly across a lake, the soldiers' anxious murmurs slowly spread through Gaidar's army.

* * *

Vlad raced across the blue grassland after bursting out of the enemy lines alone.

The wide-open space between Gaidar and Bayezid, a place no one had yet reached, gave Vlad an inexplicable sense of liberation.

"...!"

But the smile brought on by that liberation lasted only a moment.

Soon Vlad had to press himself tight against Noir's back and hold his breath.

Because an ominous smell had begun to drift from the far edge of the sky.

"Shoot! If not now, we will never get another chance like this!"

Along with someone's shout, black arrows began to fill the sky.

Vlad gritted his teeth as he felt those malicious things pass over his head and fall behind his back.

The subtle gap Vlad had opened once again bought Bayezid time, and Peter's sharp eyes did not miss it.

"Aaaagh!"

"Raise your shields! Shields!"

The ground was blue, but the sky was pitch-black, and where the black rain passed, someone's blood gathered into crimson pools.

The world beyond that narrow gap was certainly vast, but it was still cruel.

"Identify yourself!"

"Bayezid! I am Vlad, a knight of Bayezid! I carry a message from Lord Joseph!"

The arrows fell fiercely, as though they had been waiting for him to emerge.

Having crossed over them together with Noir, Vlad held out a sealed letter toward the soldiers shouting for him to identify himself.

The letter, written personally by Joseph, contained valuable information that could not be entrusted to magical telegrams and raven messengers alone.

"Let him in."

The sentence written in the letter proved his affiliation, and the direction from which he had cut through the gap proved Vlad's loyalty.

For such a man, strict verification of identity was nothing but a waste of time.

"Please follow me."

He moved to the center of the formation under the soldier's guidance.

There, the first thing that reached Vlad's eyes was Bayezid's flag fluttering in the wind.

The strong walls of Sturma were welcoming Vlad.

"Lord Joseph sent me. My name is Vlad."

It was an open field where not even a tent had been pitched, yet the atmosphere there was graver than anywhere else.

Like that time when he had entered while walking over a red carpet, countless knights were looking at him.

Between the path they slowly opened, familiar black eyes began to look at Vlad.

"You have done well, Vlad, knight of Joseph."

Peter carefully looked over the knight his son had sent.

His shoulders, which were trembling slightly though he was trying to steady himself with his breathing.

On top of that, his badly crumpled armor clearly proved that this young knight had been in the midst of a fierce battlefield until now.

"You, and Joseph as well... Was anyone hurt?"

"No. He is in good health."

At Vlad's answer, which came without the slightest hesitation, Peter was finally able to feel no small amount of relief.

Though he did not show it.

"That is good."

A noble's blue blood made Peter choose the most efficient course, but that did not mean even his heart had grown cold.

He had certainly worried for his sickly son, and he was also proud of him.

"Five hundred, then."

After confirming his son's safety through the vigorous handwriting, Peter handed the letter Vlad had brought to Antalas, the Captain.

It was a report sent not as his son, but as Joseph, commander of Deirmar.

That report stated that only five hundred soldiers would be able to come out through the castle gate.

"Hm."

However, what caught Peter's eye more than the number five hundred was the single line of addendum written at the very bottom of the report.

Though his second son usually never added unnecessary remarks, this time he had specially written one more line for the sake of his knight.

"... He wants a duel with Godin?"

"Yes."

At Peter's low voice, the eyes of the knights attending him began to twitch.

If he said Godin, did he mean Godin, Captain of Gaidar's knights?

"I do not wish to belittle you, but the gap between you and him should be difficult to overcome."

It was such a faint sign that Vlad did not notice it, but the Bayezid knights who had served Peter for a long time could tell.

Their lord was smiling now.

"Do as you please. I cannot say you lack the qualification."

It was the spirit of the North, encountered again after a truly long time.

Now that Bayezid's brilliant golden generation had passed, there was no reason not to be pleased by a young knight who said he would challenge a high wall once more.

Possibility was a beautiful thing, and young ones who sought to make it bloom were always precious beings.

* * *

"You son of a bitch!"

Gaidar's soldiers climbed the muddy hill.

Though they had somehow formed ranks, the reality of having to crawl back into chaos on their own feet made Sigmund finally let loose a curse filled with venom.

"Peter Bayezid! You bastard, even chewing you up wouldn't be enough!"

The lord of the North had used Deirmar as bait to induce chaos, then thoroughly exploited that opening to carve a deep wound.

Now he was firmly positioned atop the hill, forcing Sigmund to choose.

You come in first.

Though I will be fully prepared.

Peter had blocked the supply route, cut off the retreat, and now driven him all the way to a dead end, forcing sacrifices from Sigmund to the very last.

The cold, vicious cruelty he displayed was enough to make even Sigmund, the usurper of the West, shudder.

"Damn barbarian bastards!"

Even if it was disadvantageous, they still had to go up.

Because as time passed, it would be Gaidar who was at a disadvantage.

Since this was not a situation where they could possibly hold out, Sigmund had to break through the army before him somehow and create a way back to the West.

"Spearmen, forward!"

And so the soldiers of the North finally clashed with them.

Beyond the firmly stacked shield wall, blue axes flashed.

They looked as though they had inherited, unchanged, the habits of barbarians who once came down along the rivers and plundered cities.

"Damn it! My spear broke!"

"Those who lost their weapons, fall back!"

"Aaaagh! Those mad bastards are throwing axes!"

A fight with equal numbers.

However, the gap in exhausted stamina and fallen morale was already irreversible, so the screams that rang out could only belong to Gaidar.

"Bayezid! Forward!"

Those with the blood of barbarians mixed in them.

It was an expression filled with discrimination and contempt, but the reason one could not dare deny it must have been because there truly was a ferocity passed down through their blood.

"Where the hell do you bastards think you're pushing in!"

"Die! I said die!"

The temperament of men who had to keep themselves hot even in the bitter northern snowstorm was certainly more barbaric and brutal than that of people from any other region.

The madness of the North, difficult to express through tactics and strategy alone, was being conveyed through their axes.

'As expected!'

Sigmund, who had been tirelessly encouraging the soldiers, gritted his teeth as he watched blood burst at the front.

As expected, it was impossible for western spearmen alone to face northern infantry.

In an infantry-versus-infantry battle, it would be difficult to find any branch of troops in the Empire capable of breaking them.

"Hold on just a little longer! The moment will surely come!"

Even so, there was a reason Sigmund was tirelessly pushing soldiers toward the front line.

If the North had vicious axemen, then the West had cavalry that crossed the rough wasteland.

"If we just hold against these bastards, the flow will come back to us!"

Given the nature of the western region, it was only natural that the level of its cavalry had developed.

On top of that, the western heavy cavalry, equipped even with gear seized from the dwarves, was certainly an existence the northern cavalry would have trouble opposing.

The reason Peter had deliberately taken position on the muddy grassland was also because he was wary of their charge.

'One strike is enough!'

In this current situation where everything was collapsing, what he had to rely on was the most certain method.

That was why Sigmund decided to overcome this difficulty through selection and concentration.

Through the lance tips of the cavalry that were Gaidar's pride.

* * *

The ground was muddy, and the horses' hooves were growing heavy.

The Deirmar grasslands, sticky with the summer weather, were certainly an unfamiliar battlefield for the knights of the West.

"The enemy is responding!"

Godin clicked his tongue inwardly, thinking they had chosen one hell of a battlefield.

Their speed was gradually dying.

But it should still be possible.

Because they had put everything into this attack.

"Bayezid cavalry is coming from the right!"

"Ignore them!"

A cavalry charge is like an arrow.

From the moment it leaves until it reaches the enemy, it must not stop.

Knowing this, the Gaidar cavalry began to charge toward the soldiers thrusting out their shields without the slightest hesitation.

CRUNCH!

"Aaaagh!"

The sound of shields breaking was thunderous.

The screams that followed were all too familiar to them.

'As expected!'

There are attacks that cannot be stopped even when one knows they are coming.

For Gaidar, the charge of cavalry had always been a reliable formula that brought victory, and that was why Sigmund believed without doubt that he could pierce open a way through this single strike.

'...?'

However, Godin, who was actually carrying out the charge, felt his fingertips gradually grow cold at the strange sensation reaching him through the tip of his lance.

'It's not enough!'

It was certainly making contact, but something felt lacking.

He should have thrust far deeper, but the lance tip he drove forward somehow felt hollow.

"You damned...!"

Godin, who had been looking not at the tip of his lance but into the distance, realized where that strange sensation had come from.

An angle cleverly hidden by the curving hill.

The formation that could not be recognized from below only now revealed itself when they had met head-on.

'An oblique formation!'

He had thought they stood in a straight line, but Bayezid's soldiers had in fact been arrayed diagonally.

Only an accurate point of impact could deliver a certain shock, but Gaidar's charge, bent at an angle, had no choice but to continue along the slowly raised shield wall in the direction it guided them.

"Wheel around at once...!"

Because they were most confident in it, it could be countered most certainly.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"...!"

The Bayezid cavalry, which had already closed in tight, became another wall and began to rob Gaidar of any space to circle around.

"You've been running wild all this time, haven't you."

A red world was flowing out from between his closed left eye.

Rutiger Bayezid.

A man almost certain to become the next Family Head.

"Press them! Do not give them space!"

"Damn it!"

On the right was the shield wall of the infantry.

On the left was the Bayezid cavalry, clinging firmly to them.

And in that place, which was gradually narrowing like the mouth of a funnel, waiting for the Gaidar cavalry were the Bayezid knights, scattering an extraordinary aura.

Every single one of them had their left eye closed.

"Bring them to me! Knights!"

The tip of Peter's sword, lord and knight, was pointing toward the charging cavalry.

"Their heads! The end of those who insulted Bayezid!"

A charge rushing toward destruction.

The knights of the West also hurried to oppose them with their own worlds, but the Bayezid knights were not aiming for them.

NEIGH!

"Aaaagh!"

The screams of horses that had lost their legs began to ring noisily across the grassland hill.

Knees that had been severed kicked helplessly toward ground they could no longer reach.

"Urgh!"

With heavy sounds, the horses collapsed to the ground.

The bodies of the knights flailing atop them were launched high into the sky.

The western charge, having lost its momentum, began to stop before the knights of the North.

"Bayezid knights!"

A cavalryman who has lost his horse can no longer be called cavalry.

Before those who had been forcibly dismounted, the bitter snowstorm of the cold north wind began to rage.

"Forward!"

Their gazes met upon the halted ground.

From this moment on, it was the knights' time.

The moon sets.

I remember the look in Jorge's eyes as they swayed weakly, having lost their focus.

Even the sound of the sobbing prostitutes, and the smell of the rank lump of meat that had fallen onto my head.

The man who destroyed my nest like that left without even looking back.

Yes.

I was the one who brought that man all the way here.

"Godin."

Through the gap the knights opened, I saw the familiar figure of a man.

His appearance was a mess, but even so, the sword he held still shone.

"You finally made it all the way here, brat."

Godin, now facing him up close at last, was smiling faintly.

Just like that time when he had introduced himself with a false name.

But unlike before, the sword he raised was pointing exactly at him.

"State your name, knight of Gaidar."

"... What?"

The man now stood not as a boy of the back alleys, but as a knight.

Toward the blue moon he was finally facing, Vlad spoke the words he had kept inside for a long time.

"Your name. Say it. Here, in front of me."

The anger he had held for too long, until it had become a long-cherished wish, was escaping.

He wanted the true name, not the false name of that day.

Now that they faced each other on equal ground, he was someone who deserved to hear those words from him.

"Yes. I suppose so."

Godin looked at Vlad's eyes, which were filled with a strange yearning, and nodded as though he understood everything.

Though their meeting had been brief, he had liked this side of the boy.

As expected, it would have been better if he had taken him back then.

"I am Godin of Gaidar."

"Vlad of Soara."

A true name he could finally hear through that man's mouth.

As he heard that name, Vlad clenched his hand tightly.

He had finally come.

All the way here.

The man who had been as distant as the moon in the sky was now before his eyes.

"You said knights take only rightful payment, didn't you, Godin?"

The two now faced each other not as a boy of the back alleys and a false knight, but under their true names.

Having exchanged their names, Godin and Vlad closed their left eyes at the same time, as if by promise.

"There is still something I have yet to receive from you."

A broken nest does not return whole.

So today, I will break the moon.

By killing you, Godin.

Because that will be my rightful payment for that day.

* * *

BOOM!

In the middle of the battlefield where countless knights clashed.

But even among them, there was a place where the most brilliant duel was unfolding.

It was where a blue bursting out like an explosion and a white resembling that color were glaring at each other.

'He's fast!'

A speed that surpassed prediction.

The path was certainly as simple as could be, yet Vlad's strike was fast enough to fluster Godin.

"Hraaaap!"

Seize the initiative brilliantly.

And never let go of the momentum once taken.

As the voice had taught him, Vlad, who had succeeded with the first strike, began to rush at Godin while freely swinging the initiative he had seized.

'He's grown again.'

His smoothly stepping feet hid countless possibilities, but the sword he brought down was simple and clear.

A single strike containing definite intent, unlike his unpredictable movements.

He was an existence that was truly like a contradiction.

There was not even a trace left now of his old childish overhead strikes.

"...!"

From Godin's closed left eye, his world could be seen.

Where he was looking, and what he was aiming for.

'Now!'

And even where he was open.

The sharp insight he had learned from the sword of the Empire was showing him a path toward the space where the blue moonlight did not reach.

CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

"Urgh!"

A charge without hesitation because he was certain.

Along with it, traces of aura burst out noisily.

Everyone in this place was fighting a life-and-death battle, yet it was a light that made them unable to turn away.

"I told you back then."

"...!"

The sword he held was a fang, and what glared back was a beast.

The two swords cried out with harsh, clacking sounds.

In those blue eyes, so close before him, a strange madness that no human should dare possess began to bloom.

"That I would definitely kill you!"

Vlad's shout seemed to cry out for him to look.

Because the opponent he faced was Godin, Vlad was able to sink deeper into the Deep World than ever before and focus on the battle.

"Die!"

His exhausted body drew ragged breaths, but the steps he took were light.

Because the opponent before him was Godin, Vlad was able to sink deeper into his world than ever before and concentrate on the battle.

So much so that he did not notice the light gathering at the tip of his sword was gradually changing from blue into another color.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Rough sparks were flying between a sword that held stars and a sword where moonlight rested.

A blond knight with no hesitation at all in burning himself away.

The world he had wanted, wished for, and sincerely longed to reach was now before him.

"Is this all you've got, brat!"

"Don't call me brat!"

Looking back now, what remained were only traces.

From the name given to him by a true priest to the sword he now held, everything had come from traces left by someone else.

"You, of all people, are not allowed to call me brat."

And among them, there was one trace carved deepest of all.

It was a wound and a scar, and a memory lodged most painfully in Vlad's world.

"Because now, we are facing each other."

"...!"

Rose's Smiles.

The boy's nest.

The crimson roses that had bloomed in abundance there.

I remember Burleigh's head rolling on the ground, and Jorge's gaze swaying weakly.

"Back then, I could do nothing."

A distinct form began to spread from Vlad's sword, facing him.

The world that had existed only inside me was going out into the world.

Now in a form that anyone could recognize.

Along with it, his left eye began to open slowly.

"But not now."

Through the world he now faced fully with both eyes, there was a single streak of aura flowing down like a tear.

Gold.

That color was the brilliantly shining gold the boy had carried since the moment he was born.

------!

It was a ray of light that forced even the knights fighting on their own battlefields.

And Peter, watching from far away, to open their eyes wide.

From the tip of his sword as he swung it wide, a golden wave began to surge.

"Dodge!"

"Everyone, lower your heads!"

Over the world he faced completely, Vlad's world began to manifest.

A splendid yet sharp wave.

A wave like the scene from that time when moonlight had spread.

I am here.

I, Vlad of Soara, toward you.

My world, now firmly raised, reaches even toward the moon that is you.

"Urgh!"

Before the unfolding golden wave, the world called Godin began to scatter crimson blood and bloom a single rose.

It was a wave like his own, but its color was clearly different.

"Khahahaha!"

Though they had met as enemies, Godin could not help but laugh loudly as he looked at the young world that had finally chased him down.

Because when he saw the world that had grown by following him, though he had not intended it, an unavoidable pride stirred within him.

"It is such a pity that we met as enemies."

From the tip of Godin's sword as he spoke with regret, blue aura began to gather.

The blue moonlight, which had been like the beginning of the story, was sorrowful just as it had been back then.

* * *

The battlefield had been filled with countless shouts, but now it was filled only with silence.

The mud mixed with scattered blood was sticky.

"Hah, hah..."

It was so sticky that he could not even lift his head, so Vlad merely knelt and breathed raggedly.

Even though a cold blade was touching the nape of his neck.

"But, brat. Did I not tell you back then?"

Though Vlad had told him not to call him brat, Godin was still calling him brat.

It was only natural.

Because Vlad had lost to him.

"I told you to check where you are before you move forward."

There was a lesson he had given to the boy running through the darkness of Soara.

Do not panic, and go slowly.

First, know where you are now, and how you will proceed.

"Only then can you find the right direction... can't you?"

Rather than speed, one must find the right direction.

Only then would he not miss, as he had now.

"Cough."

A dark-red stream of blood was running down the blade touching the nape of his neck.

The crimson blood that had slowly traveled along the sword slowly ran down Vlad's neck and reached his cold fingertips.

"For you... this is still only enough for a name, brat."

Like the trembling tip of his sword, the end of Godin's words was gradually fading.

Before Godin's words were swallowed completely into the darkness, Vlad hurriedly lifted his head and looked at the man standing before him.

"..."

Before he knew it, Bayezid knights surrounded Godin.

The swords embedded all over Godin's body were sealing off every single movement he made toward Vlad's neck.

Among them, the sword that had pierced precisely through his heart was engraved with a crest that only the Family Head of Bayezid could use.

"... Welcome, brat."

The moon that had been up in that sky was falling.

By the swords of others, not mine.

"To the world of knights."

CREAK.

Red blood began to gush from the wounds left by the swords slowly being pulled out.

Godin slowly collapsed along with the flowing blood.

But on his face as he looked at Vlad, there was only a faint smile, not pain or anger.

It was a smile only a victor could wear.

"... I lost. Godin of Gaidar."

Though he could not hear the words he was now uttering, Vlad still gave him the final words he had to say as a knight.

The blue moon he had hated, yet admired.

Looking at that moon he had so desperately wanted to reach, yet in the end had failed to surpass, Vlad only lowered his head once more.

The victor above, the defeated below.

And now, the blue moon he could no longer challenge forever above me.

Thus Vlad merely murmured quietly toward the moon that had fallen to the ground.

* * *

"Count Gaidar! Count Gaidar!"

"..."

The household knight shouted loudly beside him.

But even at his cry, Sigmund merely stood still with a mournful expression.

It was an empty expression, as though something had left him.

"You must get out at once! Deirmar's gate has opened behind us!"

Just as he said, there were soldiers slowly walking out from behind Gaidar.

The Heinal army had finally gathered its troops and thrown open the gate.

Together with the young man with dark shadows under his eyes, the force they brought as they emerged was as murderous as what they had endured until now.

"... Take care of my son. He is now the most valuable thing after me."

"Understood, Count Gaidar!"

The battle was lost, but the war was not yet over.

War was not decided by a single battle, so Sigmund had to promise himself the next opportunity.

"... Damn it."

Amid the battlefield where countless shouts rang out, Sigmund stood still and looked at the hill above.

The eagle flag, which had clearly been galloping proudly only moments ago, had stopped before he knew it.

As expected, the burden it carried must have been too great to entrust everything to that single flag.

"Everyone, retreat! Survive on your own, no matter what it takes!"

This battle was lost.

Life was a series of uncertainties, but he had never imagined it would flow like this.

"This hurts to the bone."

However, what tormented Sigmund more than a single defeat was surely his knight, now broken.

The knight of blue moonlight, who may not have been loyal, but had certainly shared the same dream.

It was because he had been with him that Sigmund had been able to climb this far.

"Count Gaidar!"

"... Let us go."

When he came in, he had not needed permission, but when leaving, he had to lay down many things.

That was Peter's demand, and now Sigmund had to hide himself pitifully so as not to lay down even his own life.

The resentment and curses of countless soldiers rang out behind him.

Leaving them behind as he hurriedly escaped, only a pitiful force of fewer than even one hundred men remained beside Sigmund.