The Wolf's Challenge
While Kaisent was busy taming Priscilla's asshole, an incident that could only be called inevitable was already unfolding.
"What!? These bastards!"
"Who the hell do you think you're picking a fight with!"
The Wolf Mercenary Group, noisily tearing into drinks and side dishes at a tavern, found themselves on the receiving end of a challenge from another mercenary company.
"Did we say anything wrong?"
"A bunch of guys who only hunt rotting corpses, and you act like you're something special?"
They had endured this kind of provocation more than once before, but the ones picking the fight this time were different from the usual rabble.
"Our Coralrez Mercenary Group has racked up major achievements for the Second Prince's faction more times than we can count. We don't go around scraping by hunting rotten corpses like you lot."
"I heard that during the civil war you ran off outside because you were too scared to fight. Don't go around calling yourselves a mercenary group. It's embarrassing."
The Coralrez Mercenary Group.
They were a company of roughly the same scale as the old Linol Mercenary Group that had once tried to recruit Kaisent. During the civil war they had thrown in with the Second Prince's faction and, through sheer shrewdness, secured military weapon permits at a bargain price.
In reputation, scale, and every other measure, the Wolf Mercenary Group came up short.
Under ordinary circumstances, a small company would swallow the humiliation and back down in a contest of pride—that was how small mercenary groups survived.
But the members of the Wolf Mercenary Group did not see it that way.
"Bullshit!"
"You're nothing but a pack of meatheads who only know how to throw numbers around!"
They had witnessed Kaisent's power more than once—power that casually chewed through numerical superiority. On top of that, the powerful undead they had encountered on commissions had been dominated and folded into their own fighting strength. Having fought alongside those undead, a mere disadvantage of two or three thousand men meant nothing to them.
As the argument grew louder and the atmosphere turned ugly, a mercenary who had clearly trained in mana stepped forward from the Coralrez side, his presence swelling.
"I've been listening quietly, but your arrogance has gone too far. What was that? 'Nothing but meatheads who only know how to throw numbers around'?"
"Kh… And who the hell are you!"
"Hans, third vice-captain of the Coralrez Mercenary Group—the one with nothing but numbers, apparently."
Having introduced himself, Hans strode toward the Wolf mercenaries.
"You dare belittle our company as nothing more than a pack of warm bodies?"
He pressed them with his presence, clearly convinced he had found the perfect excuse. As befitting a vice-captain of a famous company, he possessed considerable skill; the way he projected his mana-backed aura was smooth and natural.
Normally the Wolf mercenaries should have been forced back by that pressure.
"Looking at the level of a so-called vice-captain, yeah—you're nothing but numbers!"
"Exactly! If you'd joined our company you'd still be the junior running errands! Hahaha!"
"Puhahahaha!"
"You bastards!"
"How dare you in front of me!"
Even under the crushing weight of his aura, they only laughed at Hans.
What? They're laughing even while taking my pressure head-on?
Hans had originally planned to let them tuck their tails at this point, mock them a little, and end it. Orders from above had been clear: if friction arose with the Wolf Mercenary Group, break their spirit just enough and leave it at that.
Yet here they were, taking the full aura of a Standard 2nd-to-3rd-class fighter and laughing in his face?
I can feel the pressure, but this much I can handle.
Fighting alongside undead must have toughened us without us noticing.
The reason the Wolf mercenaries could stand firm against a Standard-class aura was simple: they had endured the soul-crushing presence of undead that pressed living beings again and again. And every one of them present had survived the despair of the Dead Moon. Something this mild would never break them.
We answered boldly like the captain ordered…
But we're still going to get beaten, aren't we…?
Their captain had ordered them to hit back whenever another company picked a fight—and if they got thrashed for it, to come find her afterward.
"A tiny company like you!"
"Know your place, you bastards!"
"Bullshit! Just because you've got numbers doesn't make you a real mercenary group!"
"You fucking dogs!"
In the end it escalated into open violence between the two companies. Naturally the Coralrez side had the numbers, so the beating was one-sided. Still, Hans—who had not earned his vice-captaincy on raw strength alone—found himself puzzled by their response.
Are they just idiots? Or do they have something to rely on?
Eventually the city guards, responding to the report, broke them up. Both sides were locked up for minor offenses and would only be released after paying fines.
Each man paid his fine from his own pocket and left, and for a moment it seemed the whole affair would end as a minor scuffle. Then Lillian, upon hearing the news, headed straight for the Coralrez Mercenary Group's encampment.
A force of two or three thousand mercenaries could not be allowed inside the capital all at once, so large companies like theirs had no choice but to pitch camp outside the walls.
"I am the captain of the Wolf Mercenary Group—Wolf!"
Lillian's mana-laced voice thundered across the Coralrez camp.
"The Coralrez Mercenary Group insulted my men and beat them one-sidedly! I heard a vice-captain named Hans was present! Bring out Hans, who can't even control his own subordinates and who beat my men! I will have his apology!"
"Hwah!?"
"What? What's going on?"
"Looks like Coralrez is about to clash with another company."
From the neighboring camps, mercenaries spilled out to watch the sudden uproar.
If Coralrez gave no answer now, everyone would take it as them tucking their tails. In the end the captain of the Coralrez Mercenary Group himself had to step forward.
"Coralrez. What's this about us insulting and beating your men?"
An Expert-class prana user with a bear-like build and a rough face—Coralrez himself—appeared.
"As I just said, your subordinates insulted and beat my men. That Hans fellow who was there clearly can't manage his own people."
"What?"
Coralrez scowled at Lillian, who was sweeping both Hans and the entire company into her condemnation.
"Ha. Not even funny. So what are you going to do about it?"
As captain of a major company he assumed she was up to some scheme, yet he could not afford to lose the contest of presence, so his reply was harsh.
"I will have an apology."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I'll take it by force."
Lillian's eyes, gleaming from within her helmet, locked with Coralrez's.
She's plotting something. But I can't tell what.
A mage was the first possibility that came to mind, yet if a mage entered a full-scale fight it would become a slaughter with both sides killing each other. The eyes shining behind that helmet, however, carried no killing intent.
Of course not—if mercenary companies started butchering each other near the capital, the Halrot Kingdom would never sit idle.
Unable to find an answer, Coralrez chose the only response left to him: meet force with force.
"Hey. You got lucky and snagged one decent mage, so now the world's looking easy to you?"
"You think I'm doing this because I only have one mage to rely on? I can only applaud that poverty of imagination."
"You little—!"
Neither side yielded an inch, and the atmosphere turned vicious in an instant.
Normally both parties would give a little ground, but pride and tangled circumstances sometimes drove these things straight into open war.
"Looks like they're actually going to fight?"
"Nah, no way. The Wolf Mercenary Group's been making noise lately, but the weight class is completely different."
"A mage is exactly what can overcome a weight-class difference."
"If a mage shows up it turns into a mutual slaughter. You think the capital defense force is going to just watch a fight like that near the city?"
The watching companies felt the tension rising between the two and offered their own theories.
When the contest of wills refused to break and compromise became impossible, Lillian spoke again as though she had been waiting for precisely this moment.
"If I cannot have an apology, then we will settle it by force."
"Heh. By force? You want to fight?"
"But if mercenary companies clash near the capital, the capital defense force will simply wipe both of us out together. So I have a proposal."
Lillian proposed that each side gather twenty skilled fighters and settle it that way.
Weapons free.
The side that still had combatants standing at the end would be the victor.
"Why should I follow your rules? Your men were the ones who started the insults in the first place."
"You refuse? Then my men were right after all. Without the numbers, you're nothing."
"Kh…!"
Coralrez instinctively understood the provocation was designed to force the match into existence. Lillian's method was indeed a way to fight with force without inviting the capital defense force's wrath—but being led by the nose irritated him, so he pushed back at first.
"Is Coralrez backing down?"
"Looks that way."
"Maybe he's scared?"
"No way. Coralrez is famous for being a pure combat company."
"Nothing else explains him dodging like that."
Lillian's mana-amplified voice carried clearly even to those far away. To the mercenaries who had been watching since she first shouted, it looked as though Wolf was shoving her head forward demanding a fight while Coralrez was trying to slip aside.
That fucking bitch…!
As an Expert-realm powerhouse, Coralrez read the mood of the other companies and nearly accepted on the spot out of pure rage.
Wait. Is this what she was after?
Yet a man who had built a company of thousands knew that raw strength alone was never enough. Despite the bear-like frame that suggested he would simply smash first and think later, he recovered his cool the moment the realization struck.
They have a black mage. And I've heard rumors that he commands several powerful undead. That's what she was aiming for.
Limiting both sides to twenty was so she could smash them with the undead the black mage controlled.
Having seen through her intent, Coralrez now made a counter-proposal she would have no choice but to accept.
"Fine. I accept the match."
"Then—"
"But I won't be dragged into whatever rules you set without question."
"What?"
"No mages, no undead. Purely the warriors of each mercenary company."
The sudden counterattack left her expression hidden behind the helmet, but it must have been painted with shock.
"…"
Proof came when the one who had been spouting off so freely a moment ago suddenly found herself at a loss for words.
Just as he thought—she had been relying on the mage, or on the undead the mage had tamed.
Heh heh heh. How do you like that? Took a hit, didn't you?
Demanding a fight between warriors alone, without mages or undead, was not an outrageous demand.
"…Very well. We will settle it with the warriors of each company alone. Both sides will need time to select their fighters, so let us set the time for after noon tomorrow."
"The place can be anywhere empty enough."
Coralrez jerked his chin toward a stretch of open plain.
"Then I will return tomorrow."
"I'll be looking forward to seeing just how impressive the ones you bring are. Hahahahaha!"
Watching Lillian head back toward the city, Coralrez returned to his camp and bellowed with confidence.
"Gather the men!"
"Yes, sir! Have you already decided roughly who to send?"
"We need to hunt Expert-class fighters, so start with the ones good at driving game."
The only known powerhouses in the Wolf Mercenary Group were the captain, the vice-captain, and the mage. Even if skilled veterans filled the rest of the slots, Coralrez's side was packed with late-stage Beginners who needed only a little more training or a single breakthrough to reach Standard.
Coralrez himself could not personally step out against a mere company like the Wolves. He decided to fill his twenty with strong fighters who could pin down the enemy captain and vice-captain, plus those skilled in group combat who could clean up the rest and then hunt the strong ones.
"If you'd tucked your tail and bowed your head, I would have let it slide. You brought this on yourself, Wolf."
The other companies had heard the uproar. If Coralrez did not want to look ridiculous, they would have to win with overwhelming force. So he carefully selected the best, spent the rest of the day drilling them so their hands and feet would move together, and waited.
The next day, other mercenary companies that had caught wind of the affair flocked to watch the match. This was no drunken brawl—it was a contest of pride between companies, and many found that interesting.
"They should be here any moment."
"Why aren't they coming? Did lunch not sit well with them?"
The Coralrez Mercenary Group, already camped outside, had their twenty warriors ready and waiting. Every one of them could use mana; more than half carried hooked ropes or weighted nets at their belts.
—Even if victory is clear, don't finish it right away! Make them regret daring to pick a fight above their station—roll them and roll them again! Keep tormenting them until they crawl and beg you to stop! Understood?—
Having received that special "order" from their captain, they smiled at the thought of cutting short the recent fame of the Wolf Mercenary Group.
After a while, figures carrying the banner of the Wolf Mercenary Group appeared.
"It's the Wolf Mercenary Group!"
When the entire company came into view, the watching mercenaries eagerly wondered which twenty warriors would step forward from among them.
"We will settle it over there! Bring out those twenty warriors you're so proud of!"
Coralrez pointed with a confident smile toward the plain where his men waited.
Naturally the captain and vice-captain began walking toward that place—
"Huh?"
"What?"
"Why isn't anyone else moving?"
—yet aside from those two, not a single person moved.
Not one, even after the pair reached the plain prepared for the match.
"Are you joking with me! You're the one who said twenty!"
"And I also said the side that still has fighters standing at the end wins."
"Wha—!"
When Coralrez shouted in irritation, Lillian left those words hanging and simply stopped at a suitable distance from the enemy side.
"Shall we begin, then."
"Mm."
Lillian and Priscilla drew their swords—
Bwoooooooom—!!
"Th-that's—!"
—and not translucent mana, but vividly colored blue mana wrapped their weapons without a single gap.
The exclusive privilege of those called Masters revealed itself through the blades of the two women.
And the result of the match was a one-sided trampling.