Chapter 515: The Hour of the Dog and Wolf - 3
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 515: The Hour of the Dog and Wolf - 3
That was the day the dog and the wolf would wage their proxy war. A day when the will to kill humanity would clash with the will to save it. A day when a promise, long broken, would finally be fulfilled after an eternity of waiting.
Yet even on such a historic day, the morning began as it always did. The sun rose in the east, roosters crowed, and humans, waking from their slumber, cursed the morning as they dragged themselves from bed. The only slight difference was that their curses were far deeper and lasted much longer than usual.
Against the swift-footed wolves, Ende had delayed its response for too long. The front line, riddled with traps, had been pushed back again and again until it nearly touched the city itself.
But a retreat is not always a bad thing. A retreat that narrows the front and draws the enemy in is shameful, but helpful. Countless generals had died in kill zones for failing to accept this fact, yet people still pointed fingers at the mere mention of the word.
“The losses were heavy. But, thanks to that… our forces have gathered.”
Freedom was another word for indulgence. Ende, lacking any real system, had conscripted the beastkin by simply handing them a weapon and calling it a day. The beastkin, clustered by clan, stood in formation with whatever equipment they were used to.
Some didn't want to fight; some wanted to run. But the wolves’ attack on Ende had eliminated the option of not fighting. It was better to face the wolf pack alongside the city than to be caught by them on the open plains.
“‘If I hide behind the walls, at least someone will protect me’… That must be their hope.”
Even freedom could not forsaken the sense of security that walls provided. Grul nodded at Sapien’s words and replied.
“A shame. That we have to betray that hope.”
“Grul. Are you really going with that excuse for a plan? His plan isn't a plan at all. He has no real achievements to his name. There's no reason to follow him.”
Sapien offered his earnest advice, but Grul just laughed it off.
“It seemed fine to me. What's the problem?”
“What's the problem? How is ‘I’ll leave it to the discretion of the field commanders’ a plan?”
Sapien recalled the absurd strategy meeting from the day before.
‘Everyone. Unfortunately, we don't know the details of their plan or their strength. We aren't stronger, we aren't faster, and we're even lacking in preparation. Any clever trick we try to pull here will just lead to us slowly losing our chips until we're ruined.’
An unhelpful truth. Sapien had been furious. He knew they were unprepared. But if they had to fight anyway, it was a commander's duty to come up with a better plan, not crush their morale.
‘So, aside from the most critical part, I will leave everything to the discretion of the field commanders. Until a certain event occurs, do your best to survive on your own. Just maintain your communication lines.’
But for some reason, the magician who had appointed himself as their strategist offered no plan at all. Annoyed, Sapien had retorted.
‘If you have no plan, is there any reason for us to follow your command?’
‘Just one. The only advantage we can choose is the one I'm holding.’
‘And what's that?’
‘When, where, and how Azzy will fight. Only I can decide that.’
Sapien couldn't argue. They were the ones who had brought the Dog King, and they clearly had a much closer relationship. It was better for someone familiar to give the orders.
Besides, their opponent wasn't weak enough that they could just take the Dog King by force.
‘This battle will be a game of moving our pieces until the Dog King and the Wolf King finally meet. So please, move your pieces well. I'll be in touch.’
It wasn't a plan; it was a notification. To follow it, you had to move as you pleased, and if you ignored it and moved as you pleased, you were still following it. Caught in a frustrating checkmate, Sapien had complained, but Grul had been pleased.
“Isn't it fine? I'd rather do as I please than follow a crappy plan and complain about it.”
“A crappy plan? And your better idea is to just charge? What if that goes wrong?”
“I am the strongest in Ende. So whether things go well or poorly, it's my responsibility. And if it's going to be my responsibility, I'd rather do it my way.”
Arguing with him wouldn't produce a better solution. Unable to offer an alternative, Sapien decided to respect Grul's judgment, for a moment setting aside the thought that this, too, was in accordance with the magician's will.
“I will stay here. Leaving the base empty only increases the risk with no benefit.”
“I will move. Sitting here with a heavy ass will only get me picked apart and hunted.”
In the end, the two went in the directions they believed were right. As he watched the warriors of the Beast Faction move out with the orc mercenaries, Sapien was contemplating whether he should build more outposts.
“Lord Sapien. A group of dog beastkin has arrived from outside the city. They say they fled the wolves and wish to fight alongside us.”
Sapien furrowed his brow at the sudden report.
“Dog beastkin? At a time like this? Who are they?”
“I don't know, sir. I've never seen them before. Could they be from the Beast Faction?”
“How should I know? If they were, Grul would know them.”
Had a tribe pursued by the wolf pack drifted all the way to Ende? He could learn nothing from speculation alone. Sapien began to walk as he spoke.
“Were there any other distinguishing features?”
“They all had short, glossy black fur. Their ears were pointed and triangular, and their tails were very short.”
It was a description focused on fur, ears, and tail, as was typical for a beastkin. For another beastkin to describe them that way, their features must have been very distinctive. As he pictured them in his mind, a memory surfaced, and Sapien muttered.
“Sounds like the Baskerville family.”
“The Baskerville family?”
“You wouldn't know them. They're the most famous family of hounds in the Empire. They are dog beastkin born only to hunt, and it's said that a groomer visits them at birth to crop their ears and tails short.”
The beastkin who had made the report hastily covered his own ears and tail.
“Eek, it hurts just imagining it! Why would they do such a thing!”
“Because long, drooping ears and tails can be a weakness in a fight. The idea is to cut them off beforehand.”
“What? By that logic, do humans shave their heads bald so no one can grab their hair in a fight?”
“I've heard some humans actually do that. It's the same principle… But that's an old story. These days, it's probably just that the nobles prefer short ears and tails.”
“They cut their ears and tails just to look good to humans? Why on earth cut them, and why do people like that?”
“It's the Empire's taste. How should I know?”
“I just can't understand it!”
“Don't try to understand it, just accept it. That's the Empire for you. Though I hear things have been changing a little recently…”
If the Baskerville family had really come to help, they would be a tremendous asset. Indulging in the foolish fantasy, Sapien let out a bitter laugh.
‘No way. Am I that cornered that I'm resorting to fantasy?’
It was surely just some dog beastkin tribe seeking help from Ende. Lost in thought, Sapien followed his subordinate's lead.
‘Come to think of it, he also said they were distinguished by blue eyes that seemed to hold a ghostly fire. I'd like to see them. If I still have a chance left…’
But Sapien did not know. That this chance would arrive in the worst possible form.
*
Grul and the Beast Faction advanced slowly. The warriors of the Beast Faction walked across the plain as casually as if they were out for a stroll. After crossing a couple of hills, the familiar terrain vanished, replaced by a strange, open field. And around them, wolves began to gather, one by one.
A warrior from the Beast Faction, briefly tense, glanced around.
“Hmm, they're not attacking.”
“They know we're not prey they can handle. They're just scouts, watching us until a larger pack arrives.”
“I know, but… even as an army, the wolves fight the same way. I guess a wolf is a wolf.”
Wolves do not use tight formations. They always keep their distance from one another as they corner their prey. They apply constant pressure, draining the animal of its will to fight, then, at the most critical moment, they tear out its throat.
A multi-pronged assault on the city. Intimidating their target to break up the herd and picking off the stragglers. It was certainly the way of the wolf.
But Grul denied the warrior's assumption.
“They're different.”
“Sir?”
“The wolves are an army now, not a pack. Their prey is a city, not an animal. The scale has changed, yet they're using the exact same battle tactics? That itself is proof that this isn't just the work of wolves.”
…However, deceiving the shepherd, striking at a moment of carelessness, and overrunning the outpost in a single blow—that would be impossible without an understanding of the city.
“The wolves have someone behind them. We couldn't discuss it further because we didn't know who, but… now I see.”
Shadows flickered around the wolves, and figures emerged. Humans in tunics walked through the pack as if they were shepherds. The wolves, which should have been tearing the humans apart, instead wagged their tails submissively and made way.
The humans, their skin tanned dark under the sun, stood before Grul. Among them, a bearded old man slammed his staff on the ground and pointed it at Grul.
“Grul! You wretched fool. Have you, who should be the glory of all beastkin, decided to side with the hypocrites after all?”
“Who are you to point fingers at me, you ghosts of a fallen kingdom.”
Just as they knew Grul, Grul knew who they were.
The term ‘Beast Faction’ was often used synonymously with ‘barbarian.’ But they were called a faction not only because they were beastkin, but because they had once been a political faction of a nation.
Manguo. A land of savagery, coexisting with wild beasts, and the nation of Muhu Agartha's sin.
The country where beasts and humans had lived together had fractured and scattered. But its remnants still lingered. After Agartha's death, these ghosts of a fallen kingdom had barely managed to survive in the southern jungles, a harsh environment for humans.
The descendants of the priests were now trying to expand their influence, even if it meant siding with wolves.
“I had a feeling. You're the only ones crazy enough to pull a stunt like this, but I thought you were too weak to actually do anything. Then again, acting without knowing your own limits is the definition of true madness.”
“Khahaha! Sometimes, only madness can pull a life out of the mire!”
“Madness is madness. You weren't pulled out of the mire; it spat you out.”
“Spat out or pulled out, we've been given a chance to end this miserable existence! Whether it's the misery or the existence itself!”
Long ago, Muhu Agartha had committed an act of madness. The fact that beastkin were the result of that madness was enough to guess at what she had done.
It was long before Grul was born. He didn't know what had happened. But one thing was certain: even though beastkin carried Agartha's bloodline, they had never been treated with respect.
“You're the same. How long will you live as a pig? Join us. We'll make sure you escape your fate as livestock!”
The priests who clung to the traditions of Manguo had always seen beastkin as tools. The reason the Beast Faction had so many beastkin was that after Manguo's fall, the beastkin who remained in that land could not endure the discrimination and joined the nomadic tribes.
Naturally, Grul despised them. He had only tolerated them out of adherence to the prairie teaching not to make enemies carelessly. But now, it was time to follow another teaching: once an enemy is made, crush them so thoroughly they can never seek revenge.
“Do you really think you can defeat the vassal states and the Empire with the Wolf King at your back?”
Grul casually scraped his foot against the ground. The movement was so small it looked like he was merely contemplating. The priests answered without any particular caution.
“Of course not. The power of beasts has its limits.”
“Who is behind you?”
“The Great Druid protects the forests and plains. The Great Witch whispers the most wicked knowledge. The Progenitor swears an oath of bloody vengeance. The Beast King reveals his ferocity to humanity. All these wills shall converge to lead this arrogant civilization to ruin!”
The story was so grand it sounded absurd. Grul continued to ask questions calmly, all while still smoothing the ground with one foot.
“Have they all promised to lend you their strength? What makes you so sure?”
“Foolish child. You're not even a horse, yet your vision is so narrow. Where else would they use the immense power they have gathered?”
“So they haven't actually promised you anything.”
“Can you trust a promise? We believe in the natural course of things, not promises!”
“True, beings that great would never make a grand promise to the likes of you. You're just clinging to their coattails after being ignored.”
“…You'd be wise to grab those coattails while you can, Grul. No matter what you do… the ears and tail attached to you will never disappear.”
A beastkin is always a beastkin. They can never be the same as humans. In his heart, Grul agreed with him.
But what the pig beastkin wanted was not the collapse of order. To climb the ladder of order and reign supreme—that was what the pig beastkin truly desired. Grul had come to realize this with painful clarity in Ende.
Even Grul himself, though he hadn't wanted it, was now acting as a commander of Ende. All to create an outcome that pleased him.
“Do I have to pick a side? I can just kill the bastards who keep trying to remind me about my ears and tail first.”
Grul stopped smoothing the ground.
Geon Qi Art was the power to grasp the world. Gon Qi Art was the power to push and pull the ground. Because they both involved controlling something outside the body, Heaven and Earth were usually grouped together.
But there was a vast difference between Heaven and Earth.
Heaven moves the world with the ‘self’ at the center. Earth moves the ‘self’ with the world at the center. The two were in fact the same, yet they felt completely different. The difference seemed trivial at a glance, but for a long time, it had remained a great wall.
Grul had been stuck at that stage for a long time. For a pig beastkin who had lived a simple life, enlightenment was far too difficult.
But… his struggle to break free from it had granted him an opportunity. An accidental encounter with a rhinoceros, the sight of its overwhelming charge, had given Grul an inspiration, and he had attained enlightenment, touching the axiom.
Ground Shift.
The ground he smoothed fell under his control. He could freely push and pull his body across the area he had prepared.
And during their conversation, Grul had prepared the ground for the exact distance needed to reach the priest.
The moment Grul flared his Qi and unleashed his axiom, the world itself recoiled, and the priest’s body was torn into hundreds of pieces, scattering to the winds.