Chapter 953: Duel

“I say… are you alright?” Rein stood on the trunk of a fallen tree, looking down at Markus, who was clutching a wound in his stomach and gasping for breath. There was no emotion in Rein’s eyes, as if he were looking at something insignificant.

Yes, at this very moment, Markus was far from being a comrade to Rein. He didn’t even have an equal standing. The way Rein looked at Markus was like a child watching ants on a windowsill.

“You know, in this wilderness slaughter training, only one person gets to walk out alive. So you can only die here in peace,” Rein said softly to the despairing Markus. After speaking, he carefully prepared to leave.

“Wait!” Markus threw his dagger to Rein. It was one of the props that had been placed in the forest for these people who were killing each other. “Rein, I know you probably don’t remember my name, and I don’t expect you to. But… it hurts… but I can’t stand to die here like this… watch out for that handsome-looking Soviet, the one… called the Wolf King… he… he’s the one who did this to me.”

Rein picked up the dagger from the ground and, with a deft flick, made it disappear into his palm. This time, he didn’t hurry to leave but stared at Markus with interest, as if waiting for him to say more.

“Get out of here. I’m no longer combat-effective… follow the blood trail. That dangerous guy will be here soon,” Markus said, his face pale. His youthful face lacked the cynical expression of his later years. He gave a bitter smile and barely held on, as if unwilling to just lie here and wait for death. But he was helpless, because everything now indicated that he was destined to die in this damn place.

“Stay here and don’t move. Maybe I can let you see that Soviet who killed you die here with your own eyes,” Rein suddenly said. “I’ll kill him for you, as a thank you for giving me the dagger.”

After speaking, he disappeared behind the tree trunk. Then Markus heard a faint breathing sound coming from behind the trees. A handsome Cossack youth appeared out of nowhere in this seemingly deserted patch of woods. He gently pushed aside the branches and then, with a smile on his face and a pistol in his hand, walked up to Markus.

“Oh… isn’t it my little prey? The stupid little German whelp who thought he could run rampant just because he found a dagger,” the young Soviet youth said with a contemptuous expression, mocking the poor enemy he had been tormenting for so long in familiar Russian.

He smiled and waved the pistol in his hand, proudly showing off his great killer. “You see, my sense of smell is much more sensitive than yours… I found a pistol, so you are destined to die here. If you have to blame someone, blame yourself for being born in Germany. When I kill Soviets, I’m a little softer, and I generally don’t deliberately torture them.”

Suddenly, the Soviet youth’s expression changed dramatically. He then bent forward in a very clumsy posture and, after rolling a few times, was barely able to see the figure behind him, as agile as a leopard. Rein held the dagger in a reverse grip, his sharp eyes fixed on the Soviet youth. The sharp blade had cut off a lock of the Soviet youth’s hair, and the strands were now drifting in the wind on the grass.

Crack! The Soviet youth raised his hand and fired a shot. The bullet grazed Rein’s face and embedded itself in the trunk of a large tree a few meters behind him. And to avoid the threat of this shot, Rein also had to stop his pursuit. The distance between the two of them was instantly pulled apart by seven or eight meters.

Rein seemed a little surprised. He had approached the other from behind so stealthily and had delivered a fatal blow so securely, yet the other had still easily dodged it. It seemed this opponent was a little more skilled than the enemies he had encountered before.

The Soviet youth also seemed to be surprised. Although his posture was not good, the accuracy of his shot was not affected in the slightest. This backhanded shot was the move that had successfully and seriously wounded Markus, but this was the first time it had missed its target. So he had to re-evaluate this enemy. It seemed this enemy was very troublesome.

Rein took a step to the left and hid behind a large tree. The Soviet youth’s reaction was also not slow. His second shot struck the edge of the tree Rein was hiding behind. The bullet cut through the tree trunk, turning a piece of bark into splinters.

“Hey! My name is Wolf! You’re very good! If you had a gun, maybe we could have a proper fight,” Wolf shouted to Rein, staring at the large tree. As for Markus, who was gasping in pain not far from him, he seemed to have lost all interest.

He circled the large tree bit by bit, adjusting his angle, trying to find a suitable position to continue firing. But after a slight adjustment, he discovered the problem—Rein had run, run without a backward glance, run with absolute determination.

“Doesn’t this bastard have a shred of chivalry?” Wolf really wanted to curse out loud. Just now he had felt a sense of kinship and had wanted to have a thrilling great battle. But the result was that the damn guy had just fled in such a wretched state, without even a moment’s hesitation.

Rein was no knight; he wasn’t even a warrior. After all the training in this demonic den, everything Rein did was just to survive. He desperately tried to evade death, because he had seen too much of that commonplace death. He didn’t want to die here, at least he shouldn’t die in such a nameless place.

The two of them seemed to represent two countries. One was fleeing for his life in front, and one was chasing behind with a pistol. At a moment when an opportunity that could not be better appeared, Wolf fired the last bullet in his gun. And this bullet hit its target. Rein’s shoulder was pierced, affecting his running speed.

Wolf smiled. He knew his prey could no longer escape. He drew a bloody dagger, one he had taken from another Soviet youth. Clearly, that person no longer needed this dagger, because that youth’s throat had acquired a two-inch-long gash half an hour ago.

Rein was running alone in the woods, a helpless run. His arm was seriously injured, and the blood flowed down his arm, leaving a very clear trail for his enemy on the ground. And not far behind Rein, the young Cossack youth named Wolf was chasing his prey like a leopard.

When Rein fell, the handsome Cossack boy stood before him with a ferocious smile, the sharp dagger in his hand still showing traces of dried blood. Rein crawled to the base of a large tree and leaned against the trunk, panting heavily, as if every breath were a great luxury for him.

“Rein! You are the only one in this wilderness slaughter training who can threaten me, so I have decided to finish you off first! Goodbye!” The handsome Cossack boy raised the steel blade in his hand, as joyful as if he were inviting a friend to a game. Killing was a commonplace occurrence for everyone in this forest, as natural as sleeping.

“Is that so? You’re too confident…” Rein said, staring at Wolf, finally speaking his first words. “Remember the route I ran? You idiot!”

Wolf was taken aback. He then felt a great danger appear behind him. He instinctively dodged, and Markus’s desperate sneak attack missed. Wolf realized the mistake he had made: he had been too focused on chasing his prey, Rein, and had forgotten about the half-dead guy who was still around.

But he was too late in the end. Because he had dodged Markus’s desperate blow, but he could not dodge the dagger that Rein had swung from another direction. The sharp blade left a deep, bone-exposing wound on Wolf’s fair face.

That evening, under the setting sun, Rein’s abdomen was pierced by a dagger, and he had a gunshot wound on his shoulder. The blood from the three of them had stained a large patch of ground red. And not far opposite Rein, a boy, clutching his face and screaming, was writhing on the ground like a wild beast.

“This training… I don’t think it’s necessary to continue,” an SS general said, canceling the killing game just as an instructor was forcing Rein to kill Markus. “The Führer has read the report on the Wolf Knight project. He has ordered the termination of this experimental plan. All unfinished experimental subjects are to be transported back to Germany. The SS armored forces do not need killing machines. We need high-quality grassroots commanders for the armored forces.”

A few days later, Rein and Markus stood in the square, along with all the other orphans from Germany, attending their graduation ceremony. A total of 4,000 orphans had been sent to the secret training base in the Soviet Union. Now, all that was left were these 370-odd people before them.

Rein, for having finished off the Wolf King, Wolf, had become the new number one in the Wolf Knight Academy. Markus, because he had been lucky enough to survive to the end—the handsome Cossack youth from the Soviet Union, Wolf, due to the location of his injury, had not been able to make it to that year’s graduation.

“Do you hate me?” Akado asked softly in his office, looking at the boy who had just recovered from his injuries. “I can arrange for you to go home… at your age, you shouldn’t be involved in a war.”

“Can I not call you father? My Führer,” Rein finally spoke, and his first words were this.

“Of course…” Akado nodded, and then continued, “I can give you a sum of compensation in my private capacity. The painful experience you and your companions have been through was caused by my momentary negligence. I cannot make up for those who have died, but I can let those who have survived live in the sun.”

“My Führer, I have personally killed children and women. If there is anyone in this world who deserves to die in darkness, then I think it is a person like me,” Rein said calmly to Akado. “But you saved my life. No matter how it happened, you saved my life. And I have indeed sworn an oath to give my life for you—so, please send me to the place where a person like me is most needed. After the war is over, if I am still alive, then my life will be my own.”

“You don’t have to do this, because it was I who made you go through so much pain. Rein Hardt… between you and me, if we were to count, it is I who owe you more,” Akado said, staring at the little boy with the faint freckles on his face. “If you are willing, you can go home now. Your life will always belong only to yourself.”

Rein smiled, a very brilliant smile. “My Führer, I have spent several years learning how to kill, how to kill with a clear conscience. If I were to go home now, then in these past few years, all I have been doing is the meaningless and sinful act of killing. If I can fight for you, then at least my past sins will have some meaning, won’t they?”

“…” Akado looked at the stubborn little boy before him and finally gave in. “General Heydrich, send this Rein… to the 3rd Panzer Division. There is no need for any special treatment. He has had too much special treatment in these past few years. Give him a tank and let him fight for this country!”

“Yes, my Führer!” Reinhard Heydrich, who had just entered the room, stood at attention, raised his arm, and gave a German salute in reply. He then glanced at the little boy with his back to him and, with a thoughtful look, led the boy out of the Führer’s office.

Rein’s thoughts were interrupted here. Because right before his eyes, in the place that had been turned into a sea of fire by the Stuka II attack planes, in that black smoke, a Stalin tank had charged out. On its turret was emblazoned a black pentagram.

“Rein! Let’s fight!” Inside the turret of this Stalin tank, Wolf roared the thought in his heart through clenched teeth.

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