The Hunter of Hawk and Wolf-Chapter 43 : Chapter 43

Clang…
Only the sound of striking steel echoed.
Clang.
The men swinging the steel were alive, and yet…
CLANG!
A crescent moon hung over the meadow.
Wordlessly, Sevha swung his handaxe at Tataka.
Tataka deflected it with his butcher's cleaver.
Sevha immediately fell back, creating distance.
The difference in strength is so great that one misstep means death. I can’t win a direct confrontation.
A gulf in strength, born from the difference in their races.
Sevha knew a single mistake would mean defeat. He needed a stroke of genius.
Just then…
“So dull.” Tataka twirled his cleaver, his expression bored. “It’s so meaningless I feel as though I’m conversing with a wall… no, with steel.”
Sevha assumed Tataka was trying to unnerve him.
But Tataka stopped the twirling cleaver with a tight grip and, as if to prove he truly meant it, spoke with sudden passion.
“You want my strength. I see no reason to lend it to you. So, we are now… negotiating! Why aren't you saying what needs to be said for this negotiation!”
Tataka pointed his cleaver at Sevha.
“Who are you! What do you want! What reason have I to lend you my strength!”
Sevha could sense that Tataka was genuinely bored by this fight.
But to Sevha, a hunt was only about the result.
He could not understand Tataka, who sought enjoyment in the process.
Noticing Sevha’s lack of understanding, Tataka heaved a deep sigh.
“If you do not know… I will show you.”
Then he howled, his voice booming across the meadow.
“Comrades! Sing!”
Sevha, the Blanc Knights, and the conscripts were bewildered by Tataka’s bizarre command.
But the Broken Tusk Tribe, as though their chief were as amusing as ever, guffawed and began to stamp their feet.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
The sound of stamping feet filled the moonlit meadow. Then, the Broken Tusk Tribe began to sing as one.
“Comrade, swing your pickaxe!”
“Find three iron ores!”
The werewolves followed, howling in harmony.
Awoooo!
The Broken Tusk Tribe swayed their bodies, delighted they could sing so freely even while surrounded.
“Two ores for the master!”
“One for the pocket, one comrade’s life to the master!”
Theirs was the song of slaves.
“With iron ore, break your chains!”
“Break free and pickaxe the master! Mourn the fallen!”
Not a song of the Tusk Tribe, but of slaves.
“I never knew my father’s face! My mother was beheaded and her head stuffed for being laughably ugly! I was raised by a friend of my mother’s—a human mercenary slave!”
Tataka howled over their song.
“Before that human died, he told me! Do not despair in the face of trials! Enjoy the challenge! For a greater joy lies beyond it!”
He declared his identity.
“Following his last words, I led my comrades and joyfully slaughtered the humans who played at being masters! Then I began a journey in search of greater joy!”
And his desire.
“This is who I am! Neither Tusk Tribe nor human, but Tataka of the Broken Tusk Tribe! Tataka, son of the human Gerha!”
Eyes fixed on Sevha, Tataka roared, his mouth gaping wide like a wolf’s.
“I am Tataka, the Wolf of Challenge and Greed! I will become greater than the Wolf of Slaughter and Greed!”
Tataka surged toward Sevha.
“Now, it is your turn! Show me who you truly are! Prove that you are a trial worthy of being challenged! If you can, I will chase you until the day I surpass you!”
Tataka swung his cleaver again and again, as if in time with the stamping feet of his tribe.
THUMP!
His swings were heavy, a testament to the Tusk Tribe blood in his veins.
THUMP!
They were systematic, a skill learned not from his birth parents, but from a human mercenary.
THUMP!
Sevha could not withstand the fierce, methodical barrage and was forced to retreat.
His stance broke, but Tataka did not press his advantage.
As he had said, it was now Sevha’s turn.
Sevha watched him, his mind racing.
It’s just a taunt.
Whether Tataka's words were true or not, they were a taunt. To respond was to reveal an opening.
But it was a taunt he had to answer.
As Tataka had said, this was not a battle for victory, but an act of persuasion.
Really, the world outside Anse is filled with all sorts of strange and wearisome bastards who live as they please…
Sevha lamented his fate, gazing toward the moon.
Show me who you truly are, he says…
What Tataka demanded was difficult for Sevha. For one of the Anse Tribe, restraint was a virtue.
But now was the moment to cast that virtue aside.
“Asking such philosophical questions in the middle of a fight… you truly are more human than Tusk.”
And so, Sevha decided to grant Tataka his wish.
“If anything…
I
am closer to the Tusk Tribe than you.”
Sevha's voice grew savage, and a chill ran down Tataka's spine.
“My mother died giving birth to me. My father died defending his lands.”
Tataka stared at Sevha, searching for the source of the chill.
A cloud passed slowly before the moon, gradually cloaking Sevha in darkness.
“I lived my whole life for my brother, but he died too.”
The darkness blanketing Sevha was like a jet-black hide being pulled over him.
Or perhaps, the jet-black flesh beneath being revealed.
“My friend died protecting me.”
His voice, growing ever more savage, was like the growl of a beast.
“My comrades, my men, my neighbors… all of them.
All of them
. Everything I was meant to protect is dead.”
The cloud passed, the darkness lifted, and Sevha’s form was revealed once more.
“And for that, I want vengeance.”
Sevha’s mouth split into a savage snarl, like the maw of a beast. His pupils had dilated like an animal’s.
“And for that, I need you to follow me.”
The face of a wolf, radiating pure hatred and rage.
Seeing it, Tataka asked, “Isn’t it difficult, hiding a face like that?”
“Not when everyone who could see through my lies is dead.”
With his answer, Sevha hurled his handaxe to the ground.
Tataka laughed just as savagely and threw down his cleaver.
“Come, Sevha. It is time for the real negotiation.”
Sevha and Tataka walked toward each other, bare-handed.
Eshu cried out in shock from afar. “W-what are they saying? He’s going to fight a Tusk with his bare hands? Is he mad?”
While Teresse remained silent, Legra replied calmly, “You still don’t know Lord Sevha well.”
“What?”
“Without their weapons, Lord Sevha has the advantage.”
Legra finished speaking just as Sevha and Tataka stood face-to-face.
“The Anse never had claws to begin with.”
Tataka threw a massive punch. A blow that would shatter a skull on impact.
Sevha narrowly dodged, then raked his elbow across Tataka's outstretched arm.
Skin tore. Blood spurted.
“Tataka. In their lifetime, the Anse kill more two-legged beasts than four-legged ones.”
Sevha pressed his attack. He dodged Tataka’s heavy blows, closed in on his massive body, and swung his elbows again and again.
Each time, Tataka’s flesh was sliced open and blood burst forth.
Staggering from the blood loss, Tataka kicked wildly at Sevha’s stomach.
Sevha rolled backward and dropped into a low, bestial stance.
Tataka swallowed hard.
Such difference in skill… This is nothing like the clumsy mercenary techniques I learned.
The Anse Tribe. Lunatics who had done nothing but hunt since the end of the Mythical Age, who had perfected the art of killing instead of the art of prospering.
Tataka was now facing a history of slaughter made flesh.
“I admit it. You’re more of a wolf than I am. So to defeat you… I suppose I must become more of a wolf myself.”
As if in agreement, Sevha grinned savagely. Tataka grinned savagely back.
The next instant, they surged toward each other and clashed.
When Sevha swung his elbow, Tataka didn’t dodge, but swung his fist.
Sevha’s elbow tore flesh as Tataka’s fist grazed his face.
They both knew.
It was foolish to fight a battle where a single hit meant defeat.
It was foolish to fight a battle without dodging.
But Sevha and Tataka gave no ground, continuing to swing elbows and fists at one another.
“Isn’t this joy!”
Sevha’s elbow draws blood.
Tataka’s fist splits the air.
Sevha, splattered with Tataka’s blood, grins savagely.
Tataka, shattering beads of Sevha’s sweat, grins savagely back.
A fight of the wild, of beasts, of wolves—devoid of footwork or petty tricks.
Watching from afar, Teresse sighed. “You never stop lying, do you, Sevha.”
At that moment, Tataka—drunk on blood, on wildness, on joy—let out a monstrous yell and threw a mighty blow.
Just then, something in Sevha’s hand glinted in the moonlight.
Tataka hastily threw himself back, but the glint had already grazed his right arm.
Shhlick!
Blood burst from Tataka’s right arm, and it fell limp.
He stared blankly at Sevha.
Sevha was holding an arrowhead.
His expression was cold, devoid of all savagery.
Tataka burst into laughter.
Where the wolf had stood a moment ago, now only a hawk was perched.
“That wolf’s face, yearning for revenge… was it real, or was it false? Were you wearing the hide of a wolf? Or had you just shed the skin of a hawk?”
Sevha had not been excited for a single moment.
His talk of revenge, discarding his axe, fighting head-on like a beast… all of it was a lie.
A lie to excite Tataka and create an opening.
“Right. Real or false, it doesn’t matter to me.”
The thought of being tricked so thoroughly made Tataka’s laughter grow louder.
“For the one before me now is a hawk.”
He sounded as if nothing could be more joyful.
“Sevha! Eirang must have loved Diaka more than the Moon Princess! It was because of Diaka that he could never reach the moon, and so could run for eternity!”
Without a word, Sevha threw the arrowhead to the ground and approached.
Tataka knew another trap was being set.
But the joy was in challenging that trap, so he roared and charged.
Sevha continued his approach toward the rushing Tusk.
The moment they drew close, Tataka swung his left fist, and Sevha clenched his right.
“You trickster.” Tataka chuckled.
Instead of punching, Sevha kicked Tataka in the jaw with his left foot.
With his right arm useless, Tataka couldn't block it.
THWACK!
The kick connected, and Tataka fell to his knees with a thud.
Sevha let out a light breath and looked around. The Blanc Knights and conscripts, staring blankly, erupted in cheers.
The Broken Tusk Tribe simply laughed, as if a fun loss was better than a boring win.
Sevha shook his head, as if they were a tribe he would never understand, and spoke to the kneeling Tataka.
“Tataka. Are you ready for your leash?”
Tataka answered immediately, “When did I say I’d wear a leash if I lost?”
“What?”
“I said I would
chase
you, not that I would
follow
you.”
This time, it was Sevha’s turn to laugh.
“You trickster.”
After laughing his fill, Sevha extended a hand to Tataka.
“You’re free to chase me, but not for free. So… a temporary alliance.”
Tataka took Sevha’s hand and rose to his feet. He immediately slung an arm around Sevha’s shoulders.
“Good. Shall we drink now? You bring the liquor. As I said, the Tusk Tribe’s drink is truly awful.”
Sevha sighed, dumbfounded by the brazen friendliness of the man he had just been fighting to the death.
He replied, “You prepare the food.”
“Can’t your people prepare the food, too?”
“Why?”
“Well… my wife’s cooking is worse than Tusk Tribe liquor. Ah! But don’t tell my wife I said that!”
As Tataka laughed boisterously, Sevha lamented to the moon.
“It's no wonder people keep dogs instead of wolves… They’re so damn disobedient.”
The moon gave no answer, as if to say there was no point.