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Sigh, there’s nothing here, I don’t have any interesting story to tell you in this chap… Maybe later. (╯︿╰)
"―Am, William, William!"
"...Hmm?"
When William opened his eyes, he was met with Carl's tear-streaked face. Around him were the members of the squad to which William belonged. The presence of a ceiling meant they were inside the tent.
"What... happened to me?"
"It's nothing serious! You just suddenly ran off, climbed up the wall, and we chased after you desperately, but there were too many people, and when you fell from the outer wall, it was so confusing we all panicked!"
Faced with Carl's rare angry expression, William felt an odd sense of relief. Putting aside Carl's continued shouting for a moment, William began to assess the situation.
'This time, I've truly lost. I have a faint memory of it. What's seared into my mind is a black and enormous sheep. I can't quite recall its face, but the weight of the final blow... it's imprinted on my hand.'
The numbness in his palm had yet to fade, serving as a clue to his memory.
'A beast, truly a beast. The reflection of myself in the enemy's eyes was that of a grotesque creature.'
William recalled the image of himself reflected in the eyes of the one he had killed. Dripping with blood-mixed saliva, his face twisted grotesquely, and his eyes bloodshot. Hopelessly, William was hideous.
'After that, I... met my sister, as if it was completely normal... No, was I talking to something that was pretending to be her? That's absurd'
Yet, the numbness in William's hand and the memories in his head distinctly retained the monologue of William, regressed to infancy, and his sister. It was hard to believe, but faced with the enemy, William had completely lost control of himself.
'That man's aura, it influenced me, made me forget myself, and even dared to pick a fight with someone far superior... Ha, haha...'
William couldn't suppress the laughter welling up inside him.
"Hahahahahahahahaha!"
The others around him jumped in surprise.
"What's wrong, William? Did you get angry? Did I say too much?"
"Haha, no, Carl, you did nothing wrong. It's just that I've realized how utterly useless I am. I thought I was thoughtful, I thought I was calm, but when it came down to it... this is the result. Laughable, isn't it?"
William was burning with anger at himself. He wanted to punch the overconfident person he had been until recently. He wasn't superior at all. He had just been mistaken. He believed everything he learned from books was correct, and he thought he had embodied that knowledge. He had been mistaken.
"William, you're amazing enough. I'm nothing compared to you."
Carl's consolation was precious to William at that moment. To receive comfort from Carl, who was overwhelmingly inferior, was an immense humiliation. Yet now, it was strangely comforting. He must not let go of this anger, this pathetic feeling, all the negative emotions he was experiencing.
"Thank you, Carl. It helps to hear you say that."
That was William's driving force. Anger at himself kept welling up within him.
"I'm sorry, everyone. I've caused you trouble."
Why should he bow his head to nobodies not even worth remembering their names? It was all because of his own blunders, his defeat, that he had to bow. To lose meant just that.
'Never again... I refuse to be defeated.'
If he couldn't accept defeat, then he had no choice but to keep winning. To keep winning, to seize a position where he wouldn't have to bow to anyone. To surpass everyone, to reach greater heights...
'I will not lose. I will keep winning.'
William made an absolute vow to himself— A vow to keep winning.
༺༻
The Kingdom of Ostberg. A nation located southeast of Arcadia. Its territory is almost the same size as Arcadia's, and the climate is similar, if not a bit warmer. Furthermore, it borders the superpower Garius to the south, and as a martial nation known for repelling its invasions multiple times, it is a great country crowned with seven kingdoms.
"Ga-ha-ha, congratulations, Your Majesty!"
A change was coming to that great nation. The hero of Ostberg, "Black Gold" Stracles, bowed his head to―
"No, it's nothing significant. Stracles, you've worked hard. I truly feel sorry for making a hero like you fight a losing battle so soon after Garius' meddling."
The boy was fifteen, slender. With jade-colored hair and gentle drooping eyes, he exuded an aura of a good person, one that could even melt away any guard. In short, he was a boy who was easy to like, and no one would feel wary around him.
When the boy bowed to Stracles, the room erupted into a buzz.
"...Your Majesty. As king, you mustn't bow so carelessly; it sets a bad example for everyone."
Hearing Stracles' admonition, the boy's expression turned to one of realization.
"But, as you say, grandpa―"
"Cough!"
"I mean, as you say, Stracles. The fault lies with me for imposing an unwelcome task. I can't stand tall and ignore that."
The boy's grin relaxed the tension in the room. Stracles sighed and smiled back at the boy, who deepened his smile in response. Just like that, the room, despite being a royal court, took on the air of a casual gathering.
"The former king has passed away, and the country is likely to become unstable. Now, more than ever, we must be vigilant."
"Uh, sorry, Kimon. I'm unreliable."
"...If you make that face, I'll end up being the villain."
Stracles' deputy, Kimon, had intended to be firm, but he was easily charmed.
"Well, anticipating that things might become unstable, we've cut off the unstable elements. It was a region of little benefit anyway. There's nothing to regret other than the loss of face."
They had deliberately let go of Laconia. That was the common understanding among everyone present.
There was no need to attack originally, but the former king's last command forced them to reclaim Laconia, resulting in a significant battle. Even if they had taken Laconia, the newly changed Ostberg couldn't afford the burden. So they lost. They took great care to not appear weak or unstable―
"The former king was a good man. He carefully chose his successor and paid attention to ensure there were no disputes over the throne. The last invasion of Laconia may have been a wasted effort, but it was all for Your Majesty."
"I understand, Stracles. My father wanted to give me the prestige of having taken Laconia for my sake. How could I resent the last act of love from my father?"
Kimon listened to this conversation with a chill in his heart.
The former king was not foolish, but he was certainly not wise. The invasion of Laconia was to leave his name in history. There was no love for his son; it was only through the efforts of Stracles and Kimon that the current boy was raised as the successor. If Stracles had remained neutral, the boy would never have sat on the throne, and the succession dispute would still be mired in controversy.
"Besides, if we're talking about a father, then all of you are here for me. You all are like fathers to me. I'm counting on everyone. Let's all work together to build up Ostberg!"
The call to action lacked vigor, but the morale of everyone present soared. Such was the boy's personal charm. His unique and greatest weapon.
"By the way, I have some sweets. Shall we all eat together?"
The charmer.
Stracles, who had a policy of not participating in politics, had bent his rules to support the boy as king.
There were no political enemies left for the current king. No, there were, but all had been absorbed by the current king. Not intentionally, but simply by naturally becoming friends, he absorbed all political enemies, turning them into allies. There was no calculation in it, and that made it all the more powerful.
Without enemies, he was invincible.
The eighteenth king of Ostberg, Ernst da Ostberg. The future great ruler admired by the hero. His jade-colored smile had no adversaries.
༺༻
"By the way, Kimon. That boy—did you let him live or did you kill him?"
After reporting to Ernst in his presence, Stracles and Kimon walked through the palace corridors. Out of respect for Stracles, Kimon walked a little behind.
"He survived on his own."
Kimon stated the outcome succinctly, to which Stracles reacted with mild surprise.
"So he escaped the grasp of your 'Black Sheep.' Gahahaha!"
Stracles, seemingly satisfied with the report, smiled and pondered the upcoming battlefield—
"...I regret it."
Kimon, emitting an unusual aura, expressed a rare hesitation.
"Perhaps, eventually, he will become a poison to His Majesty, to Your Excellency. I have this feeling. It's something that grows day by day, almost like a certainty."
Kimon's words were unusually vague for his typically concise manner.
"Irresistible, truly irresistible! To think, at my age... I can still taste something new! That's why wars are unending! Guhaha, truly irresistible!"
Kimon's concerns were instantly dismissed. The monster before him, a creature born of the battlefield, was not something that greenhorn could handle. At least, not while Stracles was still around. That conviction sank deep into Kimon's heart.
"The black lad from Garias, the white lad from Arcadia, and His Majesty. The knights of the burgeoning Arcland, too, reach their zenith, and though the Seven Kingdoms remain, the state of the world is unreadable. Therefore, it's good. Very good!"
The presence of this man was too significant. Even if the world was in turmoil, could it sway this man—
"Will he be devoured by me, or will he devour me... Guha, it's getting interesting!"
The hero, still reigning supreme in his old age.
༺༻
Snow piled up. The thickly falling snow, which blocked the wind and never extinguished the hearth's light, might seem like a beautiful scene from within a warm house. But for the boys, it was a white reaper. Gradually, stealthily, it sapped their strength, their warmth, and eventually, it would bring death.
"Big brother. The blanket that Nieka gave us is so warm."
"Yeah. Rich folks can be useful sometimes."
"Don't ever say that, okay? About Nieka and big brother."
"I don't like the rich. I'm only playing with her because she's your friend."
"...You're just not honest."
Wrapped in a beautiful blanket, the dirtied siblings, especially the brother, seemed to hate the snow, the visible warmth from outside, the world itself.
"I wish winter would end soon."
"Stick close to me and sleep. If we sleep, spring will come eventually."
"Okay."
Why did they lack parents, a home, money? Why did others have parents, homes, money? Why was the world so unjust and unequal?
"Listen, Lirya, someday, I'll definitely feed you till you're full. Meat, fish, anything. We'll have mountains of salt. So just wait a little longer. When I grow up, I'll earn a lot, build a castle, and become a king."
"...As long as I'm with you, big brother, that's enough for me."
"Of course, we'll be together. Always, always, I'll protect you."
"Thank you, big brother. I love you."
"...Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep. It's okay if I'm with you, right?"
"Okay."
Around them lay the corpses of those who had frozen to death in the recent cold, discarded where they fell. The bodies of the poor could be found everywhere in the back alleys. The world breathed its cold breath on the destitute without mercy.
The boy held his sister tightly, refusing to let her be taken. The girl, comforted, drifted off to sleep peacefully. The boy smiled at her serene sleeping face. He had no intention of sleeping until morning. Until the sun rose and tomorrow came, he couldn't afford to feel safe.
He would protect her at all costs. He would survive, killing anything that bared its fangs at his sister.
"Cough."
From that small cough, everything—
"Hey, Volf! Booze, where's the booze? You asleep?"
"...I'm not asleep. I haven't had enough to drink, bring me more."
"Right away, boss."
It was an unpleasant memory. For some reason, he had gotten drunk on an amount that usually wouldn't affect him and had fallen asleep. A nasty sweat broke out on his back.
"Here you go, boss."
"What, this is water?!"
"It's watered-down. With water."
A silly joke, but it was hilarious to those who had been drinking. They laughed uproariously, clutching their bellies, and Volf joined in. After a bit of rowdy fun—
"So, Volf, where to next?"
The important question brought a brief silence to the group.
To the north lay Ostberg, to the south the vital trade sea of Mao, to the east the mountain ranges, and to the west, a string of small nations. In this era, the largest state in the world, the superpower Garias.
Near its western border was a group clad in black. A camp of about a hundred people. The night was lit by the red glow of the campfires.
"Well... first off, with the money we got from the last battle, I'll buy a pretty lady, then head to the southern islands floating in the Mao Sea for a paradise vacation."
Almost everyone cheered at the suggestion, but the person who had asked the question, indistinguishable as man or woman, smacked Volf on the head.
"Because of that last time, we've come all the way to Garias to make some quick cash! And, you even took the gang's money without asking!"
Volf, rubbing his head, looked away.
"...I can always escape from that slave girl."
"...My charm just didn't get through to her… Yeah, it was nonsense."
"Volf, you're too eager. And too soft on women. If I were there, I would've cut down that slave girl."
"That's why I did it alone, you dangerous guy."
"That's exactly why you're too soft!"
The two arguing were accepted by the others as 'just the usual' and 'let's drink, let's drink.' In reality, no one paid much attention, and everyone relaxed as they pleased.
"I can forgive being soft on women and letting your guard down... but almost dying is a no-go."
The tone dropped suddenly, and the mood sobered. Volf's face clouded over.
"...Sorry. I honestly got carried away. I had no idea there were such monsters in the world."
He was recalling a skirmish between Garias and Ostberg just a month ago. He didn't understand why it had happened then, but the war had suddenly broken out, and Volf and his men had been hired as mercenaries. They had achieved many victories, but suffered a painful defeat just once.
"Stracles of the 'Black Gold,' he's a monster. Stronger than anyone I've ever faced. In battle, in personal skill, I couldn't touch him. And he even let me go!"
All eyes, which had not been paying attention until now, focused on one point.
"The genius, strong, cool, and most handsome me!"
Normally, someone would have interjected at such a statement, but Volf's demeanor and the black aura that seemed to spill from his entire body intimidated those around him.
"I agree with the genius and strong part, but cool and handsome... and they mean the same thing."
Amidst this, one person remained calm,
"Shut up, Nieka. Anyway, I'm very upset. It's shocking enough that there's someone better than me, but even that vice-captain sheep guy is stronger. It's seriously depressing. Like, really depressing."
Nieka, referred to as such, ruffled their hair roughly. Another person, ignored in the corner, sipped their drink quietly, but let's not dwell on that.
"Because, the opponents are the top general and his vice of a country, of the Seven Kingdoms no less. It would be strange if you could win. How many times do I have to say it?"
Volf looked like he was about to cry at Nieka's exasperated words.
"But... I promised I wouldn't lose."
"To Lirya, right? I know that. But you know that if you die, it's all over, right? You need to live for a chance at revenge. If you die, I'll be alone. And that's, like, really lonely."
A small locket swayed at Volf's chest. Inside, the portrait of someone is perhaps only remembered by these two. To them, an irreplaceable being.
"I understand. I get it. I won't lose. And I won't die. I'll take risks, but I won't be reckless. That's fine, right, Nika?"
Volf quietly opened the locket, gazing at the picture of the laughing girl inside. It was a remnant of memories from a distant northern land where they had lived before death claimed them. Unable to do anything, to save or entertain her. All they could do was preserve her memory like this. A reminder of their own powerlessness.
"Alright. Let's decide on the next battlefield. We're not weak anymore. But we're not so strong that we can afford to be careless. To get stronger... we need to rack up more experience! A paradise in the tropics? That's ten years too early."
Volf collapsed with a thud, a look of resignation on his face. In contrast, Nika, with a triumphant smile, left his side, her face beaming.
Nika sat down by the large bonfire at the center of the bustling night camp.
"Good job with the couple's comedy act."
"What?!"
Cheers erupted from the crowd: "Whistles!" "It's getting hot in here!" "I don't care if it's a man or a woman, let me join!"
Nika, addressing the person who mentioned a man and a woman, casually threw a knife she slid from her sleeve. "Eek!" The man tumbled in surprise.
"We're not a couple, nor a man and a woman! I'm a proper maiden, you idiot!"
Instead of silence, the crowd burst into laughter, clearly not taking things seriously. Nika snorted and sat down again.
"Ten years, huh? Can we catch up in ten years? To that monster?"
The man who had spoken to her earlier sighed and addressed her again.
"We can catch up. He may be like that, but he's a genius, strong, and a hard worker. There's no one who tries harder than him. So we'll just have to surpass him. Once we do, no one will be able to catch up. Yeah, Volf is an amazing guy."
Nika's cheeks were slightly red, whether from the bonfire or perhaps...
"Well, Volf is 'fast,' after all. We just have to run desperately so we don’t get left behind. If we keep chasing his back, that's at least a passing grade. And who knows, while we're desperately running, we might just overtake everyone. Then... 'Noir Garou,' the Black Mercenary Band, will be the strongest."
Noir Garou, the name of the mercenary band to which everyone here belonged. Volf was the leader, and Nika, along with another handsome man, was the vice-captain.
"Wolves hunt in packs. There's no creature that can defeat a pack of wolves."
The black wolves quietly sharpened their fangs and claws. For now, they were a small pack, but they trained and fought to one day bare their fangs to the world.
"Hey, can't I just buy one?"
"No way, you blockhead! Go kneel to the locket a hundred times, now!"
Under the starry sky, the pitch-black wolves stirred.
༺༻
Far to the west, across the sea, lay a large island. Once known as Garnia, it was now home to countless small nations, constantly rising and falling in a cycle of birth and death, reminiscent of a warring states period.
Among them shone a country as brilliant as a star, Arkland.
"Princess, the night air is poisonous to your health."
"Ah, wait a moment."
It had been only five years since its founding, and just three since it had changed its name to Arkland. Yet, in just two years, it had made its name known throughout Garnia, and after a change in leadership, in three years, it had become famous even beyond the sea, in the Seven Kingdoms.
"Beyond those mountains, across the sea, lies a battlefield larger than Garnia. Doesn't it stir you? Sir Baylin. I’m... I’m so stirred I can't help it."
The man called Baylin saw a raging inferno in the eyes of the young girl, not yet of age.
"I love war. Blood, iron, everything about it is dear to me. Am I mad? Is the flame that burns within me a curse?"
The beautiful red-haired girl tenderly stroked the sword at her waist.
"It's fine to be mad. As you wish, Princess, our battle maiden Apollonia of Arkland. We, the Ark Knights, will accept everything in the path you choose and show you the defeat of all our enemies."
Apollonia, the girl in question, seemed satisfied with the answer. Though her gaze was fixed on the stars and the land beyond the mountains, a soft smile graced her lips.
"Leave some for me to cut."
"Understood."
Apollonia of Arkland, not yet seventeen, was the key to Arkland's rise and the undisputed ruler of the nation.
"Also, I am no longer a princess. Stop calling me that, Sir Baylin."
"Yes, my apologies, Queen Apollonia."
"...It's rather irritating."
"Understood."
Three years ago, at the tender age of fourteen, Apollonia ascended to the throne. The king himself had abdicated, bestowing the crown upon her. All for the prosperity of Arkland, for only the strongest must be the king. And so Apollonia became queen, for she was the strongest and most fit to rule...
"For now, 'princess' is fine. Now, we have a battle tomorrow. Rest today, for tomorrow we conquer!"
"Understood!"
The land of Garnia burned with the great flame of Arkland. For now, the flame was contained within Garnia. But once it overflowed, not even the Seven Kingdoms might stop it. Such was the heat of the nation of Arkland that Queen Apollonia possessed.
"Ah, where is the battlefield that makes my heart leap?"
The flame named Apollonia grew fiercer, scorching the earth.