Vol. 1 - Ch. 32 - The Battle of Flanders (13): Black and White

"Hahaha! It's burning, it's burning. How beautiful," Rudolph laughed as he watched Flanders burn. The mobile carriage even had a rooftop. Up there, he chuckled as if watching a comedy in the midst of that inferno.

"Fondling breasts while gazing at the sunset, what a luxurious treat. And such a rare, beautiful sunset too. Look, the sky is burning red."

Rudolph was satisfied. After all, the win or loss didn't matter much to him as long as he wasn't in the line of fire. It was true that William was dangerous, but he didn't seem worthy of serious caution yet. Volf was just a litmus test, a way to gauge William.

"I wonder what faces they're making over there? The 'Knight' Villibrand and the 'Demon Sword' Christoph - I can't wait to imagine the looks on Arcadia's face after losing those two. My 'Grim Reaper' did such a good job!"

The results showed that William wasn't as bad as imagined, and Volf was even worse than expected. Maybe this outcome wasn't so bad. It would be unwise to get too cocky about either of them since their bitter conclusions were mutual.

"...But I'll win next time."

The smile vanished from Rudolph's eyes. Even if it was just a sideshow, the fact remained that he had been tainted. William wasn't as dangerous as imagined, but he was still a considerable threat within expectations. Volf would likely grow stronger as well. Figures like Yuwain and Gilbert could also become shining stars. Someday, the white Arcadia and the black mercenary group might stand against Nederkus, against Rudolph.

When that time came, Rudolph thought, "White or black, they are powerless before the chosen blue."

He flicked a coin of his nation's currency skyward without even watching where it landed, turning his back on Flanders.

"—Powerless."

With that, Rudolph returned to his awaiting bosom.

The flicked coin fell from the carriage, standing upright on the ground. Neither heads nor tails. An ambiguous situation. The third blue, unmoved, towered there.

Few know the true power of Rudolph le Habsbourg, the 'Azure Scion' beloved by God. Even monsters dare not defy him, for no mortal can defeat a child of God. Promised victory in this world is his.

༺༻

"Of all the women I know, she is the strongest. In strength, speed, and technique, she is on a whole other level. The second is you, Lady Nika."

Nika kicked Yuwain's back, trying to hide her embarrassment. The 'Lion Marquis' face-planted into the ground. This time, she got nothing right.

"But that is merely her public persona, as a knight and model commander."

Anatole watched the burning Flanders with a sorrowful gaze.

"Her true self is different. Words like 'cruel' and 'heartless' seem too trite to describe how far she has deviated from humanity. An urge to slaughter, tearing her own flesh. Once she loses her sanity, she won't stop her massacre until everything is dead."

Anatole's mind conjured the image of a young girl, loathing her own lost sanity and desperately trying to become someone else. But in the end, one's true nature does not change. Her inborn talent was simply to kill.

"Rainberka li Palatzia. One of the 'Three Nobles' and the bearer of 'Black'. The 'Grim Reaper' Rainberka. In her battles, there are no people, only the urge to kill."

A genius, not at combat, but simply at taking lives. A monster that plucks away human lives.

"No one can defeat her."

Anatole declares with certainty. Even Rainberka, striving to be the paragon of nobility and knighthood, is strong. Stronger than himself. But Rainberka, clad in black armor and having withered herself to a Grim Reaper, is on another plane. It would be presumptuous to even compare strength.

"Who can defeat a monster that transcends humanity?"

For before death, humans are powerless.

༺༻

"Don't be ridiculous! I'll go out there!"

Gregor and Anselm desperately held back Gilbert. They quickly noticed the change in the heavy atmosphere. Even so, Gilbert didn't move because he trusted them. This time, that trust saved the two and Gilbert's life.

"There's no point in taking Flanders now! It's become a ruin. Even the main force that charged in won't be able to survive this. It's hell, this is."

Deaf to Anselm's words, Gilbert still tried to fight, thinking only of his fellow disciples. If left alone, Gilbert might have charged into the flames.

"Give it up, Gilbert. Who could possibly be alive in that fire?"

Tears welled up in Gilbert's eyes. He gritted his teeth, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.

"It's a shame. Such a shame."

Anselm shook his head, his voice sad.

"Damn it all!"

Gilbert's anguished roar was swallowed by the sorrowful, red sunset.

No one saw the strange, distorted smile on Anselm's lips as he watched Gilbert and the hellish scenery.

༺༻

In a sea of blood and entrails, the burning corpses, Rainberka wept.

The monstrous figure that had danced through the slaughter, reaping people with a twisted smile like a scytheman, was gone. What remained was a profound remorse, a loathing and hatred for herself. A fear of having killed even the innocent.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Rainberka cried, trembling.

Rainberka could not control the Reaper she had become.

Rainberka was raised in an executioner's household. For the clan that had made a living of it since the founding of the kingdom, death was a familiar thing, not an object of fear.

It was precisely because she was their descendant that the royal family deemed her fit to host the 'Reaper' as a counterpart to the Child of God, and performed a certain ritual. They had resurrected a myth in a world bereft of gods, before the Child of God.

The first time her vessel lost control was when she was five years old. She woke to find her beloved younger brother torn apart, his body parts strewn about as if used as playthings. Her hands gripped a bloodied scythe, its edge notched from severing bone, they said.

"Father, he has stopped moving."

Rainberka had said it so calmly that even those who made their living with death feared her.

After that, Rainberka was confined, but the gruesome incidents continued - meals delivered with entrails scattered about her room, people cleanly dismembered despite the lack of sharp objects.

Ultimately, the clan decided to execute Rainberka, deeming her beyond human control. They carried out the execution in secret, without the knowledge of the royal family. And then -

"Wow, how beautiful. Ah, my masterpiece, perfection in itself!"

The clan of Rainberka was wiped out. Those who had tried to execute her were, in turn, killed in a more horrific, more cruel manner. A scene of unparalleled depravity and malice had unfolded. It was hell.

"Kill her."

Afterward, Rainberka was found by Rudolph and taught reason and propriety, becoming known as one of the Three Nobles. Her martial talents were exceptionally high, and with Rudolph as her guardian, she rose through the ranks to become the youngest ever.

But the core of who she was remained unchanged. Rudolph thought there was no need for her to change. Rather, what he desired was the 'Reaper' - the monster born only to kill, and that was a painful truth for her.

"No matter where I go, I will still be myself."

Rainberka said, self-deprecatingly, looking at the full-face helm she had discarded. This was Rainberka's switch. Donning this armor and helm transformed her into the Reaper.

"Good work, Lady Rainberka."

Thanks to years of training, she no longer lashed out at those who wore similar equipment. This allowed her to function within the military.

"It's time to head back, Lady Rainberka. Lord Rudolph is waiting." said one of the people clad in black armor.

They were the Reaper's underlings, the hands and feet that created hell. They had stoked the flames, poured the oil, and burned Flanders. They had assisted in the slaughter where the Reaper's reach did not extend.

"Ah, yes, let's go."

Rainberka rose with a hollow smile, wiping away her tears.

In the flames of hell, only the Reapers survived. The Three Nobles of Nederkus, the 'Black' Army, were despised because they were not human, but monsters who served the Reapers.

༺༻

William and Volf fought to their hearts' content. Each was determined to be the last one standing, to kill the other. The survivor would be the victor.

Clang. Sparks flew. They pushed against each other as if in a silent agreement. Then, they both leaped back, creating distance. And then -

"C-c'mon, stop this. We can't keep going like this in this situation."

Volf was the first to lower his sword. Seeing William panting, Volf still had energy to spare. If they continued, Volf would win.

"Don't be ridiculous. I can still fight."

William roared, feeling insulted by Volf's mercy.

"I'd love to kill you, but Flanders is in such a mess, we can't even collect our fees. We're already losing as it is. Who's gonna pay us now?"

Volf shook his head wearily.

"And another thing. I never imagined that one of the Three Nobles would be such a monster. I don't think I can handle that young lord."

Volf's assignment was to kill William in exchange for Rainberka. But now that he knew her true nature, that desire had completely vanished.

"Look, it's a waste, isn't it? The ultimate genius and his supposed rival fighting it out like this in some forgotten corner of the battlefield. It'd be much more interesting if we could gather a big crowd and have a real showdown. So I'm putting my sword away."

Volf sheathed his sword, turning his back on William.

"That's why you should back off too. The situation we're in is pretty simple, isn't it? Just about who's stronger. No tactics or anything. Yeah, it's a waste, really."

If they continued, William would lose. They both understood that. Simple and straightforward. That's why Volf thought it was a waste.

He had finally found an opponent worthy of a complex, intricate 'war', and if he killed William here, the stain of that defeat would never be erased.

Volf couldn't accept that.

"You'll never get another chance to kill me."

"Don't be stupid. I'll kill you next time. Completely and utterly."

William watched Volf's retreating back with a disturbing expression. No matter how he tried to justify it, he had been shown mercy, and William was not gracious enough to accept that.

"Next time, I'll kill you, no matter if it's one-on-one or with an entire army."

William, too, departed.

The only remnants were the marks of their fierce battle, etched into the ground and trees. The traces of the clash between two prodigies.

The legends of black and white had only just begun.

༺༻

"Oi, why'd you let the bastard live?"

"I had no reason to kill him."

"That's not enough, you dumbass. You know how many of our guys he's killed?"

"We've killed plenty of their guys too, in the heat of battle. Can't expect them not to hold a grudge."

Volf spoke matter-of-factly. Nika was thoroughly disgruntled. Her language was foul as usual, but she still retained a lingering sweetness that Volf didn't see as a bad thing. There was room for such people.

"Hey, Yuwain. Turns out I'm pretty strong, huh?"

"Yes, I knew that from the moment we first met."

Volf gazed up at the distant battlefield. The red sky burning, the overwhelming stench of blood still clinging to his nose.

"But being strong alone ain't enough. Gotta know how to use people's right to win."

This time, Volf had gained something more valuable than gold or glory. This sacrifice was an investment. The wolf had finally lifted its eyes to the ground.

"People are idiots, hopeless creatures. Gotta learn how to use 'em right. Man, this was really enlightening. Now I got no weaknesses."

Yuwain smiled, seeing the greed in Volf's eyes. The one he had mainly chosen was indeed covetous, but also proud without being stubborn, able to absorb better things. The wolf would grow even further, surpassing even Yuwain -

"Alright, next stop is the Southern Sea! Vacation time with the busty beauties!"

"Where the hell do you think we're gonna get that kind of money, you moron? Learn something for once!"

The familiar skit of Volf and Nika's marital comedy, complete with flying knives and spatters of blood, but business as usual. Everyone present laughed.

'Next time, let's gather a big crowd and settle it for real from the start. Then we can truly decide who's stronger.'

As Nika's uppercut sent his head snapping back, Volf gazed up at the night sky. The twinkling stars. Somewhere out there, stars were being born and dying, over and over.

Whether they would end in a fleeting flash of light or shine as a giant illuminating the vast sky,

'That's what it means to be 'strong'.'

The world, beware. Even in this hellhole, there is one, a lone star shining in obscurity, one that can swallow you in whole.

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