The End of the Lupus
Vesta straightened, swaying for a moment before he forced his body upright.
The battlefield around him was nothing short of spectacular.
Orc and horse corpses lay scattered across the churned mud, their limbs twisted in grotesque angles.
Vesta had contributed to it, and the Khan had witnessed the aftermath.
“Khan…?”
Vesta scanned the chaos for the one figure whose presence he could feel even now.
She stood beside the fallen body of a single orc, staring down at it with unreadable eyes.
Narinhoon Ibahtar—the only orc Vesta could ever remember by name.
The warlord’s condition was dire beyond words.
One arm had been torn clean off, the other hanging by threads of sinew and skin.
His legs had been shredded in places, one knee crushed into jelly.
Burn scars still raged across his torso, glowing red as though freshly branded, refusing to cool.
The final blow had clearly been meant to finish him—every strike landing with a warrior’s precision.
Breathing was shallow, ragged, but hope was gone.
*
Narinhoon lifted his hazy gaze to the Khan.
The young elf queen who commanded the fear of every orc and wolf in the wastes.
[Legends really do exist.]
Narinhoon had witnessed two living legends today.
The Arrow Princess who walked among swarming wolves.
And the boy who wielded spirit swords like they were extensions of his own fury.
Narinhoon spoke in the guttural elf tongue he had slowly learned.
“Kill me.”
It was the single word elves always spat when they looked upon orcs.
And the only elf word Narinhoon had ever mastered.
The Khan’s gaze was cold as she regarded him.
“Why are you telling me? Do you think my life is worth your last breath?”
Narinhoon could not read the emotions in her eyes.
—Did she even see him as a living thing at all?
She neither mocked him nor pitied him.
As though no emotion could be spared on such a creature.
“I would enjoy ending you myself,” she said, voice flat.
“But I won’t.”
“You fought my daughter and lost.
Your life and soul now belong to her.
I wonder what she will choose…”
Narinhoon never understood a single word she said.
He could not grasp the thoughts behind her eyes or the calculations running behind them.
Vesta stepped forward.
The Khan’s tone softened slightly.
“His fate rests entirely with you, Vesta.”
She placed the orc’s life into the human’s hands.
She was the kind of being who weighed every death with utmost care.
No matter what Vesta chose, she would not interfere.
‘Though I have no intention of letting him go.’
Vesta did not hate Narinhoon.
He had come from a world where people killed each other for freedom.
He had been ambushed more times than he could count.
Special hatred was unnecessary.
It was simply a matter of survival.
Who stood last decided the end.
Vesta reached for his sword.
“……?”
The blade refused to leave its sheath.
He tried to draw it anyway, but it felt welded to the scabbard.
‘It’s jammed.’
Vesta looked around for a replacement.
Any broken orc sword would do.
“Is there a proper funeral for an orc?”
“A wolf-man eats him—death is the only ceremony they know.”
“Are you talking about those things over there?”
Vesta pointed at the spotted werewolves charging across the field.
“Exactly.”
“They’re swarming in a pack.”
“You spilled too much blood.
This isn’t even half.
The whole pack within range will be here soon.”
He didn’t sound worried.
“Do as you wish.”
Vesta nodded.
*
The elves and centaurs left with the Khan.
Narinhoon exhaled harshly.
[You came to take my defeat…]
It was the same growl the werewolves had screamed when they saw him.
They had come to devour the orc and horse carcasses.
—They must see me as mere prey.
Among the dozens of wolves, one stood out—massive, jet-black, and watching him with obvious hunger.
He might be the one trying to usurp Narinhoon’s position.
—Doesn’t matter anymore.
He was already dead.
The boy who had defeated him had shown mercy.
He had allowed Narinhoon to die with some dignity.
The humiliations he had suffered in life would be torn apart by the wolves.
—If that is your way, then die that way.
The boy had spoken, then drove an orc’s sword straight through Narinhoon’s body.
As though it were a stake.
—He returned my blade.
He didn’t finish the fight with the centaur.
He even stepped in to protect me from an arrow.
Now, with my body pierced, I would die being eaten by wolves.
—So I’ll make sure you die like one.
That was the boy’s sentence—both punishment and kindness.
One werewolf clamped its jaws on Narinhoon’s ankle.
[No…]
Narinhoon kicked it away with his remaining foot.
His strength had run dry.
—Impossible.
He was impossible too.
Narinhoon bit the throat of the charging wolf.
The wolf sank its teeth into his side and bit his neck.
Another wolf raked its claws across his throat.
Narinhoon snarled.
[How could your kind take my defeat?]
Defeat belonged only to the one who delivered it.
He thrashed uselessly.
Because his wounds had already turned to fire, he no longer bled.
Though he no longer bled, the wolves were devouring him far more thoroughly.
His body reached its limit in an instant.
Narinhoon was crushed beneath the weight of the wolves.
[Not yet… not yet…!]
No one cared about his desperation.
He grabbed one wolf’s ankle.
—Desperate indeed.
Narinhoon rolled his eyes.
Nothing compared to this.
It was the same massive werewolf he had met at his own funeral.
—The wolf’s life is already hard enough—
—Hallucination?
Narinhoon did not understand.
—Life is this way.
When have I ever lived any other?
He had only ever known this life.
He had never imagined another.
—That is our life.
Hard.
Brutal.
Minutes passed before a reply came.
—I haven’t seen a wolf that still refuses to become a dog for a long time.
He made the other wolves back away.
[…Yes…]
The giant werewolf licked Narinhoon’s wounds.
—It is time a wolf also has a king.
Narinhoon’s body was covered in white foam.
*
The wolves spoke.
Because the hero gave the spirit a second chance,
his enemy should have one as well.
*
“Is this the right spot?”
“Ah, yeah. It is.”
“The orcs really cleared out?”
“How many times do I have to tell you? Yes, they did.”
Humans armed with weapons launched a sudden raid on the orc camp.
“It’s real! The big ones are all gone!”
“Only a few guards left—kill them!”
The prairie people who had suffered under the orcs were seeking revenge.
They smashed their way into the orc camp, uprooted every seed of life, and freed the captives who had been sold away.
Leah, taken here by Narinhoon, was among them.
“Wait—don’t hurt her!”
A woman pointed at Leah.
“What’s the problem?”
“She’s one of the orcs!”
“What?”
The crowd’s attention shifted.
Leah shrank back.
“I saw her making sweet talk with an orc!”
“No way.”
“Let’s look in her pouch!”
Leah stumbled.
Hands grabbed her.
What she had tried to hide spilled out—a bundle of wolf pups.
“What is this?”
From her pouch came baby werewolves.
“Look at this mutt! She directly handed the orcs these pups!”
The men’s faces hardened, believing they had proof.
“It’s definitely a wolf.”
“Don’t say that.”
No one listened to Leah.
“She’s an orc’s woman!”
Leah felt as though she had been thrown into the crowd that once persecuted heretics in the Empire.
“Hang her.”
Leah pulled the spotted one tighter and ran toward the corner.
Thousands of furious eyes pinned her down.
Leah hugged the pup and prayed.
Shadowy figures rushed in from the shadows.
“Aaaah!”
Screams rang out.
Leah’s eyes flew wide.
A colossal silhouette burst from the entrance, snapping a man’s neck.
Others raised weapons.
“Kill it!”
The giant caught arrows and spears with one hand, then began slaughtering the attackers one by one.
He swung a sword, snatched a spear, and felled men with bare fists and kicks.
He ignored the writhing bodies on the ground and strode straight toward Leah.
What Leah faced was a towering, burned, and terrifying orc.
Severe burns scarred every inch of his body.
Ripped wounds covered him like a map.
—How did he survive?
“Narinhoon.”
Even in his changed form, Leah recognized him.
It was his eyes.
[Teach me about humans.]
Leah did not understand.
Narinhoon gripped her shoulder.
[Teach me about humans.]
“Ugh… I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“Woman!”
“I can’t understand it!”
“…Teach me about humans.”
When Leah turned, an ordinary man stood there.
Ahak—the scholar who had once been Vesta’s master.
“…You’re from the Empire?”
The man coughed, clearly embarrassed.
Leah asked Narinhoon.
“What happened? Why are you suddenly talking about humans?”
Ahak translated.
Narinhoon, who understood the rough elf words, answered.
[I must understand my enemy.]
It sounded like a vital mission.
Narinhoon’s eyes gleamed.