Omniscient First-Person’s Viewpoint-Chapter 515: Time of Dogs and Wolves (3)

That day was the day when dogs and wolves fought their proxy war. A day when the will to kill humans clashed with the will to save them. A day when long-broken promises were finally fulfilled after years of waiting.

And yet, even on such a historic day, the morning began like any other. The sun rose in the east, the roosters crowed, and humans, waking from sleep, cursed the start of another day.

The only difference was that the curses were heavier and lasted longer than usual.

Against the swift wolves, Ende had delayed its response for too long. The front line, where traps had been set, had been pushed back again and again—until it was nearly touching the city itself.

But retreat wasn’t always a bad thing. A retreat that narrowed the front line and drew the enemy in was shameful, but also useful.

Many generals throughout history had died on the battlefield because they refused to accept this fact.

Yet still, people were so fixated on the word "retreat" that they pointed fingers at anyone who dared suggest it.

“The damage was heavy. But because of that... our forces have gathered.”

Another word for "freedom" was "lawlessness."

Ende, lacking a structured system, had drafted beastmen into battle but had done little more than hand them weapons.

They stood in formation, grouped by their respective clans, each wielding whatever weapons they were most familiar with.

Some didn’t want to fight.

Some wanted to run away.

But the wolves had attacked Ende, stripping them of that choice.

Fighting alongside the city was better than facing the wolves alone in the open plains.

“Hiding behind the walls, they must be thinking... ‘At the very least, someone will protect me.’”

Even those who prided themselves on their freedom still couldn’t give up the sense of security that walls provided.

Grull nodded at Sapien’s words and said,

“It’s a shame. That expectation will have to be broken.”

“Grull. Are you seriously going through with that plan? His plan isn’t even a plan. There’s no real strategy, no merit to following it.”

Sapien spoke seriously, trying to dissuade him, but Grull only grinned and shrugged it off.

“I don’t see the problem. It seems fine to me.”

“You don’t see the problem? Since when is ‘leave it up to the field commanders’ considered a strategy?”

Sapien recalled the absurd strategy meeting from the day before.

"Everyone. Unfortunately, we don’t know the enemy’s exact plans or full strength. We’re neither stronger nor faster than them, and to make matters worse, we’re also underprepared. If we try to force a solution, we’ll just gradually lose everything and collapse."

Not exactly the most helpful truth.

Sapien had been furious.

He already knew they were underprepared.

But if they had to fight anyway, wasn’t it the commander’s job to propose a better plan rather than kill morale?

"So, aside from the most important parts, I’ll leave everything up to the field commanders. Do whatever it takes to survive until something actually happens. Just stay in contact with each other."

And yet, for some reason, the self-proclaimed strategist—the magician—had offered no real plan.

Feeling deeply irritated, Sapien had asked,

"If there’s no real strategy, why should we follow your lead?"

"One reason. I hold the only key advantage we can rely on."

"And what would that be?"

"I decide when, where, and how Azzy fights. That’s something only I can control."

Sapien had been left speechless.

It was true.

They were the ones who had brought the King of Dogs, but this man was the one who seemed to understand her best.

It was only natural for the one most familiar with her to take command.

And there was no way they could forcefully wrest control of the King of Dogs away from him.

"This battle will be a game of moving our pieces before the Kings of Dogs and Wolves meet. Do what you need to do. I’ll stay in touch."

That wasn’t a strategy—it was just a statement.

If they followed it, they would be acting freely.

If they ignored it, they would still be following it.

It was an unpleasant, inescapable trap.

Sapien had complained, but Grull had liked it.

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“It’s not so bad, is it? Better than having to follow some shitty strategy while whining about it.”

“A shitty strategy? And your brilliant alternative is just charging forward? What if it goes wrong?”

“I’m the strongest in Ende. Whether it goes right or wrong, I will bear the responsibility. And if it’s my responsibility either way, then I’d rather do things my way.”

There was no point trying to convince him.

Sapien had no better alternative to offer, so he simply decided to respect Grull’s decision.

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At least for now, he set aside the fact that this ultimately meant following the magician’s lead.

“I’ll stay here. Leaving the base empty will only increase the risk without offering any real benefit.”

“I’ll move. If I just sit around, I’ll end up getting picked apart and hunted down like an animal.”

In the end, they each chose the path they believed was right.

As Sapien watched the warriors of the Beast Faction march forward with the orc mercenaries, he wondered if he should build more outposts.

Then, an unexpected report arrived.

“Lord Sapien. A group of dog beastmen has arrived from outside the city. They claim to have fled from the wolves and wish to fight alongside us.”

Sapien furrowed his brows.

“Dog beastmen? Now? Who are they?”

“We don’t know. Their faces are unfamiliar. Could they be part of the Beast Faction?”

“How the hell should I know? If they are, then Grull would recognize them.”

Had a tribe, chased by the wolves, wandered all the way to Ende?

Speculation wouldn’t give them any answers.

Sapien began moving as he asked,

“Do they have any distinguishing features?”

“They all have short, sleek black fur. Their ears are pointed and triangular, and their tails are extremely short.”

The description focused entirely on fur, ears, and tails—fitting for a beastman.

If even another beastman described them that way, it meant their features were highly distinct.

As Sapien tried to visualize them in his mind, a memory suddenly surfaced, and he muttered to himself.

“They sound just like the Baskerville family.”

“The Baskerville family?”

“You wouldn’t know. They’re the most famous hunting hound lineage in the Empire. They are dog beastmen bred solely for hunting. It’s said that the moment they’re born, a groomer comes and trims their ears and tails short.”

The beastman who had been reporting immediately clutched their own ears and tail in alarm.

“Ugh, even just imagining it hurts! Why would they do that?!”

“Droopy ears and long tails can be weaknesses in battle. The idea is to remove them preemptively.”

“Hah? So what, do humans shave their heads before fighting so no one can grab their hair?”

“There are humans who do that, actually. It’s probably the same reasoning... but that was in the past. Nowadays, nobles simply prefer the look of short ears and tails.”

“They do it just because nobles like it? What kind of nonsense—why would they cut them, and why would anyone like that?”

“It’s just the Empire’s taste. Don’t ask me.”

“I will never understand this!”

“Don’t try to understand. Just accept it. That’s the Empire for you.”

Sapien sighed and shook his head.

“Though... I did hear things are changing lately.”

If the Baskerville family had really come to help, that would be incredible.

Sapien let his imagination run wild for a moment—then scoffed at himself.

‘Yeah, right. Am I really so desperate that I’m resorting to wishful thinking?’

More likely, they were simply a dog beastman tribe seeking aid in Ende.

As he followed his subordinate’s lead, he mused to himself.

‘They say the Baskervilles have eyes as blue as a lake holding the sky... I’d like to see them just once. If I have the chance...’

But Sapien did not know.

That chance would come—in the worst possible way.

Grull and the Beast Faction advanced slowly.

The warriors moved as if they were merely out for a stroll across the plains.

After crossing a few hills, the familiar landscape gave way to an unfamiliar field.

And one by one, wolves began to gather around them.

One of the warriors tensed slightly and scanned their surroundings.

“Hm. They’re not charging in.”

“They know we’re not prey they can take down. They’re just scouts, keeping watch until a larger pack arrives.”

“I know that, but... even when wolves form armies, their fighting style stays the same. Are they still just wolves?”

Wolves never fought in tight formations.

They always kept some distance from one another, gradually driving their prey to exhaustion before tearing out their throat at the most fatal moment.

The city was under attack from every direction—meant to spread fear, divide groups, and pick off the stragglers.

That was clearly a wolf’s way of fighting.

But Grull shook his head.

“No. It’s different.”

“Huh?”

“The wolves are no longer a pack. They’re an army. Their prey isn’t beasts—it’s a city. If the scale of the battle has changed, yet they’re still fighting the same way, that’s proof that they’re not really wolves anymore.”

...And yet.

The fact that they had tricked a shepherd, caught them off guard, and launched a direct assault on an outpost—

That was something impossible without an understanding of cities and their defenses.

“There’s someone behind these wolves.”

Grull’s gaze darkened.

“We haven’t known who until now, but... now, it’s clear.”

A ripple passed through the wolves.

A moment later, figures began to emerge from among them.

Humans, clad in tunics, stepped forward like shepherds parting their flock.

The wolves, who should have torn these men apart, instead wagged their tails and stepped aside.

Under the sun, their skin was dark, tanned by the wild.

They came to a halt in front of Grull.

An old man with a thick beard slammed his staff into the ground and pointed at him.

“Grull! You foolish wretch. Even you, who should have been the glory of beastmen, have chosen to stand with the hypocrites?”

“What’s with the finger-pointing? We’ve barely met, you damned ghosts of a fallen nation.”

The way they spoke as if they knew him—

The way he instantly recognized them in return—

They were familiar enemies.

The Beast Faction was often lumped together with "savages."

But they weren’t called "Beast Faction" just because they were beastmen.

It was because they had once been a political faction of a fallen nation.

The Lost Nation.

A land of wild beasts and lawlessness—

A land drowned in the sins of Mu-hu Agartha.

A nation where humans and beastmen had once lived together—

Now shattered and scattered.

But its remnants still endured.

Even after Agartha’s death, his followers still clung to survival, even in the inhospitable jungles of the south.

And now, these remnants had chosen to align themselves with the wolves to regain power.

“I had my suspicions. If anyone was crazy enough to pull something like this, it had to be you lot. But you’re too weak to actually do anything on your own. Acting without knowing your own limitations—that’s real madness.”

The old priest burst into laughter.

“Ha-ha-ha! But sometimes, madness is the only thing that pulls a man from the depths of despair!”

“Madness is still madness. You didn’t climb out of the abyss. The abyss spat you out.”

“Spat out or crawled out—what does it matter? The important thing is, we’ve found a chance to end this wretched existence! Whether it’s the wretchedness or the existence that ends, well—”

Mu-hu Agartha had committed madness beyond imagination.

The fact that beastmen even existed was proof enough.

It had all happened long before Grull was even born.

He didn’t know the details.

But he did know one thing.

Even though beastmen carried Agartha’s blood, they were never welcomed by his followers.

“You’re no different. How long will you let them treat you like pigs waiting for slaughter? Join us. At least then you won’t live like cattle.”

The priests of the Lost Nation had always seen beastmen as mere tools.

That was why so many beastmen had joined the Beast Faction after their homeland fell—because they had suffered under that very discrimination.

Of course, Grull despised them.

He had simply endured out of the wisdom of the plains, which taught not to hold grudges lightly.

But now, they had crossed the line.

And the plains also taught—

That once a grudge was made, it had to be crushed beyond recovery.

“Do you really think siding with the King of Wolves will let you defeat the Principalities and the Empire?”

Grull ran his foot across the dirt.

The movement was small—just enough to look like hesitation.

So the priests let their guard down and answered.

“Of course not. A beast’s power has its limits.”

“Then who’s ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) backing you?”

“The Archdruid protects the forests and plains. The Grand Witch whispers the most forbidden knowledge. The Founder has sworn a blood oath of vengeance. The King of Beasts bares his fangs at mankind.

All these forces will converge—

And civilization will be destroyed.”

Grull listened impassively, one foot still shifting the earth.

And then—

In an instant, his qi exploded.

The ground surged—

And the priest’s body was torn into hundreds of pieces, scattered like leaves in the wind.