Eyes of the Wolf King
In the new wolf king encampment, Bessimer heard a strange rumor from the tribal folk who had joined them. Hell wolves were still lingering around Binvelt.
The wolf king, their central figure, was undoubtedly dead. Now the hell wolves were fully dominated by their feral instincts, no different from ordinary mana beasts. For such creatures, the most important thing was ultimately prey. Mana beasts devoured any living being that contained mana, without discrimination. If they were eating something, it was to absorb the mana contained within that lifeform. Thus, if they devoured human flesh, it would be from someone who had accumulated mana in their body; if it was an animal, that animal would likewise be a mana beast.
For those wolves, Binvelt didn't offer particularly good prey. Most of the soldiers here couldn't handle mana. Bessimer himself harbored powerful mana, but he was far too strong for a mere mana beast to hunt. With the wolf king dead and their pack already shattered, it was impossible for the hell wolves to target him in an organized way. Like wild wolves, they had likely splintered into separate groups by now, fighting over territory and turning on their own kind. Once that was over, they would move toward areas abundant in prey. There was no reason for them to keep prowling around Binvelt.
That was plain common sense. So why hadn't they left the area yet? It needed investigating. Carlson and Bessimer had reached that conclusion.
“Why didn't you report it to me?”
“You were obsessed with that stone, ya know.”
Bessimer answered bluntly. The stone he meant was the wolf king's magic stone—or rather, the rune stone it had become after passing through Isaac's hands.
“I already reported it once. Looks like you didn't hear a word.”
“……Did I?”
Isaac scratched his head.
The wolf king's magic stone was unique, even across Isaac's entire previous life. It retained a warmth like human body heat while harboring mana as wild and fierce as Isaac's own. Yet it showed no distinctive effects like a frost stone. Either it had no special traits, or they simply hadn't been discovered yet. Either way, it was worth studying. In hindsight, Isaac had been a bit excited. A lifelong devotee to magical research—willing or not—he'd never seen a magic stone like this one.
“Ahem. So, what have you figured out in the meantime?”
“Nothin' special.”
“They haven't raided any other tribal villages?”
“Doesn't seem like it. They don't need the meat—they need the mana inside it.”
“That's a relief. Carlson……”
“No.”
Carlson answered before Isaac could even finish calling his name.
“I haven't even said anything yet.”
“You planning to send the captain out on patrol?”
“Nah. Can't sleep, so just thought we'd take a light nighttime stroll.”
“What lunatic goes for a nighttime stroll in the Black Forest?”
“You and me.”
Isaac pointed at Carlson with his index finger, then at himself.
“Hold up, boss. You sayin' we're headin' into the forest now?”
“Yeah. Need to clear my head a bit.”
Isaac ran a hand through his tangled ash-gray hair. Cooped up in the barracks for ten straight days, he desperately needed fresh air. His research on the wolf king's rune stone had hit a wall, and he figured a little outing might spark something. Of course, it wasn't what anyone would call a sensible outing.
“You really as crazy as the kid says? Fightin' mana beasts in the Black Forest ain't nothin' like doin' it out here in the open.”
Bessimer spat as he explained just how dangerous the Black Forest was at night. Mana grew denser, beasts more aggressive, even veterans could lose their way in the dark woods, and you never knew what might lunge out. He spoke with such fervor that veins bulged clearly on his bald scalp.
Unfortunately, Isaac let it go in one ear and out the other. To him right now, the Black Forest wasn't some dangerous place—it was an object of curiosity.
I always wanted to check it out at night.
To turn Binvelt into a proper city, they needed a trade route through the Black Forest. For exchange with Oton's port city on the border. A road where merchants could travel day or night without fear. How could that be possible? One corner of Isaac's mind was already pondering the answer.
“You even listenin' to me?”
“Yeah, I heard. Thanks for worryin'. Hans, get two horses ready—ones that've had plenty of rest, not the ones just back from patrol. Easy to handle.”
“Yes, sir.”
Hans scurried off toward the temporary stables on quick feet.
“You really goin'?”
“Yeah.”
Bessimer glanced at Carlson, who shook his head. This brat'll drop dead if he doesn't get his way, his eyes said.
“Hah.”
The two burly men sighed almost in unison.
“I'll come too.”
“You just got back.”
“Ain't nobody more expert on hell wolves than me.”
“Fine by me if you tag along—won't be so lonely. Captain can rest then.”
“……I'll go. His Excellency won't forgive me if anything happens to you, young master.”
Carlson looked thoroughly annoyed but fetched his canteen and rations from the barracks anyway.
“Captain, me too……”
Hans said innocently, leading two horses.
“Stay put, kid.”
“Don't push it, Hans.”
The two men answered in near unison again. They wanted to lighten the load even a little.
“Why's this turning into a real nighttime stroll?”
Carlson grumbled.
“Beats me.”
Isaac shrugged. He'd originally planned to ride. Secretly, he'd been looking forward to handling the reins himself. Thanks to the rune stone—or maybe his growth spurt—his height had increased enough that his feet should reach the stirrups. He'd imagined galloping through the cool night air. Sadly, that plan fell through.
“What the hell got the horses so spooked?”
Bessimer shook his head, axe handle slung over his shoulder. His massive frame made even sturdy horses look pitiful just carrying him. Yet they submitted to him readily enough. But when Isaac—who barely reached Bessimer's side—approached, the horses panicked and reared, kicking wildly as if fleeing a natural predator.
“You put some nasty spell on 'em or somethin'?”
“Why would I? They're my property.”
“Still, you look a bit taller.”
Bessimer noted the change.
“Yeah, growth spurt probably.”
Isaac brushed it off. But Bessimer's eyes gleamed. It wasn't just height. His whole body had developed evenly. Broader shoulders, longer limbs. To a stranger, it might seem like the boy had simply matured a touch, but Bessimer saw differently. Isaac's body was growing into that of a warrior. Over an hour of brisk walking through hills and rough terrain—up and down slopes—and he showed no fatigue. Child's play for Bessimer and Carlson, sure, but just months ago, Isaac had been a manor-raised flower.
Were the Goetes a knightly house?
Bessimer tilted his head. It hadn't been raw power that made him kneel. It was the count's merciful nature—his eldest brother. And the count wasn't some born warrior either. Isaac's growth must owe much to his mother, Adel.
“Boss, ever think about learnin' axe work?”
Baitur blood boiled at innate talent. They revered strength above all.
“Later.”
“Tch.”
Bessimer smacked his lips at Isaac's indifferent reply.
The Black Forest at night was utter darkness. Dense foliage blocked the sky. Carlson lit a torch with flint, but it did little for visibility—the dense mana in the air absorbed the light.
“How about we turn back now?”
The thick mana permeating the air made Carlson uneasy. A sticky sensation on his skin, far worse than humid air. He hated this atmosphere. As a ranger, he'd lost half his squad to a demon realm scout. With his current skill, he could protect them now—but the past didn't return. That's what made him irritable and angry.
“Turn back if you want. I'm not scared.”
“……”
Carlson glared, but Isaac ignored him and pressed on. His steps were strangely light.
Beast cries echoed near and far. Something rustled in the underbrush. The Black Forest's darkness was deeper, thicker than any ordinary woods. The dense mana clashed endlessly with internal mana flows, wearing down body and mind. It was a degraded version of the Demon Realm, stirring primal fear.
But Isaac felt something entirely different. Déjà vu. An eerily familiar, strangely nostalgic sensation.
“You okay?”
“Hm? Yeah.”
Isaac nodded blankly at Bessimer's worried question.
“Let's rest a bit.”
“I'm fine.”
“This isn't the time to be stubborn. Dense external mana affects your internal flow—twists it, causes reflux, or worse, rampage.”
Carlson spoke with rare firmness. Normally he'd grudgingly follow Isaac's whims, but not now. He looked ready to force the issue with strength if needed.
The soldiers have it rough. This pressure……
Isaac stifled a chuckle at Carlson's intensity. One arm broken easy if you don't listen, it said.
“You know meditation, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Focus on your breathing.”
Half-forced, Isaac sat on a rock, closed his eyes, and took deep breaths. But not because the forest's mana threatened him. His current vessel's mana density surpassed even the Demon Realm's. The Black Forest couldn't touch him. He just wanted to feel it more clearly.
"Come with us! To the eternal battlefield!"
It began with the memory of raising the final cup during a ritual incantation. At first, entering the Black Forest, he'd chalked it up to overactive imagination from excessive research. A hallucination born of immersion in the wolf king's rune stone. But the deeper they went, the more vivid the memories became.
They weren't Isaac's. They were the wolf king's.
The terrain of the Black Forest as a wolf: caves, valleys, waterfalls, unique eroded zones, swamps, ravines, ponds, cliffs…… Where mana beasts lurked. Where to drink, where to hunt best. Wind brushing fur, air temperature, mana scent, blood wetting jaws, grass and flower smells, scents of the living, earth, roots, and stone under paws.
To that memory, the Black Forest wasn't dangerous. It was nostalgic. Like homeland soil. Like home.
It stirred peaceful sensations in Isaac. But more than memory—what made him gaze at the forest with longing—was a connection beyond senses. Vague yet clear, distant yet close. Utterly alien to Isaac.
He knew without seeing or hearing. Firmly bound somewhere.
"In Balaka's name, we swear! We are warriors from one root. We fight together, triumph together—or go together to the land of fate!"
The oath the wolf king swore upon becoming chieftain. A vow of unbreakable bonds among great warriors. It lingered, undissolved. The wolf king's dying will, transmitted through the rune stone. And the instinctual bond etched into the hell wolves.
“Boss, boss!”
Bessimer shook Isaac. He opened his eyes calmly.
“I know. No need to panic.”
“Not the time to act cool. Hell wolves here are way trickier than the ones at camp—several times over.”
“Couldn't agree more. Get up quick. Me and him'll clear the path.”
Carlson spoke, Bessimer nodding along.
Rustling filled the darkness as silhouettes darker than the night emerged one by one. Their eyes—having absorbed daylight—glowed red without fail.
Not open camp or wasteland, but dense woods offering cover everywhere. No telling where threats might spring from. Harsh beast breaths and presences echoed. The mana-saturated air was poison to those without resistance—but elixir to mana beasts, making them stronger, swifter.
Bessimer and Carlson knew this firsthand. Seemed Isaac was the only one not grasping the danger.
“You two couldn't even guess what I saw.”
“Don't matter what you saw—get ready to run. Count of three, this'll be a bloodbath.”
Bessimer ignored Isaac entirely. Natural enough. To him, Isaac was someone worth dying to protect. Anyone could see he was the most vulnerable here. Frost demon or whatever—no mana control meant no real use of it.
But Bessimer had to retract that thought seconds later.
“Kneel.”
“What nonsense?”
“Pardon?”
Isaac's tone was utterly normal, leaving Bessimer and Carlson doubting their ears. No clue who the command was for.
“Not you two.”
“……?”
The two men could only doubt their eyes.
A shrill whine! Dozens of massive wolves appeared before them. Overwhelming bulk, feral eyes, pitch-black fur. Every one lowered its body, baring its throat.
Submission.
“Wh-what……”
Overwhelmed by the surreal sight, Bessimer looked at Isaac—and was shocked anew.
“Boss, your eyes……”
Isaac's eyes gleamed yellow. Just like the wolf king's.