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Chapter 97 - Chapter 97 – The Name of the Enemy

Wulfgar moved through the bodies like a wolf through broken branches.

Mud covered him to the knees, and blood—Roman and German—ran down his bare chest. His breath burned. His right arm was numb from swinging the axe. And still, he did not stop.

This was his hour.There was no turning back.

Every step took him farther from the boy he had been. Every enemy he felled was another strike toward the right he had not yet earned: the neck tattoo, the mark of true warriors, the ones the gods remembered.

He hadn't earned it yet. But he would earn it now.

The Romans held like living walls. They locked together like carved stone. Cold, silent, disciplined. He hated them. But in his hate, there was respect. What he hated most was that they did not run.

And then, he saw him.

Him.

The one he had encountered weeks ago in the forest, leading a patrol. The one who fought as if born for war. The one whose mere presence had made his group fall back into the mist.

Now he fought in the center. His armor was torn, his face dirty, arms covered in blood. But his gaze was the same—calm, precise, dangerous.

Wulfgar paused for a moment. The world spun around him, but he didn't hear it. He didn't feel it.

Only that Roman existed.

His enemy.

His pulse quickened. Not from fear—he told himself—but from the fury burning in his chest. And yet, the old man's voice from the clan echoed in his mind:

"The true warrior does not seek vengeance. He seeks victory. Vengeance belongs to the heart. Victory belongs to the gods."

Wulfgar clenched his teeth. What if he failed? What if he died here, before earning his mark, without honor, without a name in his people's stories?

No. He couldn't.

He had to kill him.He had to do it in front of everyone.He had to do it with his own hands.No tricks. No help. No cowardice.

He pushed past his own men, dodging bodies, dodging spears. He moved as if guided by something older than hatred. Deeper than pride.

He didn't know his name.But he didn't need to.

He would find him. Face him. Kill him.

And then, the gods would see him.

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