Chapter 250: “Baumann the Bloodied”

Corpses lay scattered across the battlefield.

Not a single body was without wounds.

Limbs were missing, arteries ruptured, and blood poured forth in torrents.

A monstrous creature, like a raging bear, had lashed out with unrelenting brute strength, leaving behind a bloody mountain of corpses and rivers of gore.

That was all there was to it—just an unflinching truth.

“……”

It was futile.

Everything had been in vain.

The small community of the Landsknechts had been trampled, crushed into the muck like soggy earth beneath an iron boot.

Look at him.

Lord Faust von Polydoro didn’t even seem fatigued.

Even the wounds inflicted by their desperate, life-risking attacks might have already healed—or so it appeared.

So overwhelming was his power, it felt almost like an illusion.

“Baumann.”

I was here only as a witness to this duel.

I had once been the standard-bearer of the Landsknechts.

Now, I stood here, torn and unsure of what to do next.

Surely, this was enough.

“…Do you intend to continue?”

The Landsknechts’ purpose had already been fulfilled.

They had taken responsibility for their insult to Lord Polydoro, publicly offering their lives in reparation.

Their sacrifice had proven that he had defeated Lady Claudia von Reckenber in a duel, settling the score in the eyes of the world.

It had shown that we, the Landsknechts, were wanderers now, with no path left to tread.

And it had demonstrated the defiance of old warriors, as Landsknechts, against Lord Polydoro.

Surely, this was enough.

What lay ahead now was a battle concerning only Baumann’s personal honor.

If she chose to retreat, that would be acceptable.

To acknowledge the impossibility of victory and decline the duel would not be shameful.

Of course.

I knew full well that Baumann would never accept such a suggestion.

“I didn’t care before.”

Baumann spoke.

She didn’t care—about anything.

And I believed her.

She hadn’t cared about the resolve of her fallen comrades lying around her.

She didn’t even care about her own life.

That much was evident.

“I didn’t care about anything. Whether I killed Lord Polydoro or he killed me—it didn’t matter. But…”

She extended her hand.

It reached for the flag I carried.

With raw force, she tore the flag itself from the pole I had raised.

“I am a Landsknecht too. I cannot abandon those who fell before me to pave the way and retreat here.”

Baumann gripped the war flag, The Rose Banner.

Its ornaments, crafted from white thread, depicted flowers in death.

The torn flag was laid over the bodies of the fallen warriors.

Naturally, it soaked up their blood.

The white flowers, stained with dark red blood, slowly turned crimson.

“…Once, we all dreamed of making this flower bloom.”

Baumann spoke.

The phrase “to make the flower bloom” referred to the ambition to crown Lady Claudia von Reckenber as Emperor.

We had believed we could make the withered petals bloom once more.

But reality had proven otherwise.

“Even if this banner absorbs the blood of all us Landsknechts, the flower will never bloom again. Withered petals cannot bloom anew. That is the way of things.”

The dark red petals remained wilted.

As the standard-bearer, I found this deeply sorrowful.

In the end, without Reckenber, we Landsknechts were nothing more than a band of brigands.

Yet.

Beneath those petals, the fallen warriors rested.

At the very least, they had shown courage and resolve.

They had demonstrated the final pride of warriors who, despite being foolish Landsknechts, did not cower before even the mightiest of foes.

“Will you mourn the dead first? I can wait.”

A voice rang out, majestic and commanding.

Lord Polydoro had drawn his sword.

It was a massive greatsword.

Baumann wielded her custom-made Zweihander, crafted specifically for her, which was nearly the same size as the massive greatsword in Lord Polydoro’s hands.

Who else but Baumann could use such a sword practically in battle?

“It’s unnecessary! Once dead, they’re nothing but chunks of flesh and blood! If luck is on their side, even without burial, the souls of the fallen veterans will ascend to Valhalla!”

Baumann shouted back.

There was no need to clean up the corpses.

Those who had achieved their purpose—those blessed to fulfill their resolve—needed no further mercy.

Her words seemed to carry that implication.

In truth, the faces of the dead bore not expressions of agony but rather looks of peace, as though they had finally found release in death.

“Let’s get this over with, Lord Polydoro. There’s no need to wait.”

“…As you wish.”

The coliseum’s arena was stained with blood.

In the worst areas, entrails and fragments of bodies lay scattered.

But neither of them seemed bothered by the horrid conditions.

“Shall we exchange names? To be honest, I don’t know much about you.”

“Don’t worry, Lord Polydoro. I don’t know much about you either.”
…